by C. J. Duggan
I spat my tea across the glossy coffee table that divided us, coughing and earning a sour look from Penny. ‘Really?’ I wheezed, wiping tea from my chin.
‘Oh, yes, it’s almost like a ridiculous competition between them. Do you know how many au pairs they’ve had in four years?’
I shook my head, not wanting to know.
‘Five – that’s a new record.’ She nodded, as if almost impressed.
‘Poor Evie.’ These people who didn’t deserve to have children, to live in this world surrounded by nice things, infuriated me. I had gone from feeling sorry for Melissa to being disgusted by her and her husband.
‘Oh, don’t you worry about Evie, I don’t think there will be another au pair coming on board. Melissa has vowed to be a full-time parent, no more nannies or tennis lessons.’
I shook my head, barely believing what I was hearing. It felt like Penny was updating me on a plot of The Bold and the Beautiful. It made my little existence with Grace and Ben in Greenwich Village seem dull in comparison.
‘I suppose at least I can say that I am grateful to you, Sarah.’
Had I misheard Penny Worthington? Did she just say something nice again? ‘You are?’
‘Oh, very much so. I never have to worry about Ben being attracted to you, he assured me of that himself. What did he say to me last night? “Not in a million years”, and by my calculations I will be long gone from this earth by then.’ She laughed. ‘More tea?’
‘Um, no, thanks … I’m fine.’ If anything, I was too busy ripping the butter knife out of my heart that Penny had wedged there. Last night? He had said that last night? Probably around the dinner table as they chortled about the help.
‘Sarah, are you all right? You’re terribly pale – you look dreadful.’
Way to kick a girl when she’s down. The worrying thing was, when it came to Penny Worthington, I don’t think that she was deliberately being awful, it was just … her. And if that wasn’t bloody terrifying, I didn’t know what was.
‘Yeah, I think I might go home and lie down for a bit, I don’t feel too well. Ben’s out with Grace, so I’ll just have a nap.’
‘Oh yes, he’s gone across to Brooklyn to see Nikki, and the Irishman.’
I couldn’t help but find that a little amusing. I didn’t know how long Nikki had been with her husband – obviously at least long enough for five children – and Penny was still referring to him as the Irishman. No one was safe from offence.
‘Well, I’d see you out but …’
‘No, it’s okay … finish your tea, I can see myself out.’
Penny made herself comfy, like she had no intention of moving from her white-walled parlour. Personally I couldn’t wait to get out, the room felt like a Scotchgarded igloo.
‘I’ll call around next week and visit Grace,’ were her parting words.
‘Great,’ I said, hoping that the look on my face came across more as a smile than a grimace.
I couldn’t get through the foyer quick enough, wrestling with my bag and glasses, trying to keep my shit together by getting my shit together. I had come to Penny’s to mend a fence and, while I suppose I was kind of successful, it had resulted in me feeling worse. Penny’s words haunted me: I don’t have to worry about Ben being attracted to you, he told me himself last night.
‘Whoa! Look out, where’s the fire?’
I stopped so abruptly my sandals squeaked on the floor. I turned to see Alistair Worthington’s beaming smile as he descended the stairs.
‘People are going to start talking about us,’ he joked, and ordinarily I would have found it funny but, based on what Penny had just matter-of-factly told me, he was probably absolutely right. All I wanted to do was head back to the Village and sleep the weekend away.
‘So where are you off to then?’ he asked.
‘Just home, quiet weekend.’
‘Home?’ He looked horrified. ‘You’re in New York City, why would you want to do that?’
‘Oh, I’m really tired,’ I said, my voice breaking at the final word, stupid tears pooling in my eyes, betraying me. Something in Alistair’s cheery disposition made me feel even more hopeless.
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ he said, grabbing my arm and urging me to look at him.
I shook my head, trying to convince him that there was nothing wrong but, as the tears came, there was no use denying it.
‘Okay, come on,’ he said, glancing behind him and ushering me out the door. ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘Where?’ I blubbered.
Alistair directed me to the waiting car, where Dave looked at me with alarm.
‘Are you okay, Miss Williams?’
‘She’s fine, Dave. Not a word, yeah?’
Dave nodded; no doubt he was used to the code of silence when it came to the Worthingtons’ comings and goings.
Alistair got into the back seat next to me, and passed me a tissue to wipe my eyes. ‘The Blarney Rock on West 33rd Street,’ Alistair told Dave, looking at me warily as I blew my nose. ‘And make it snappy.’
I sat in an old Irish pub in the heart of Manhattan with Alistair Worthington on a Saturday afternoon, and in a few hours my cares washed away as quickly as the beer was going down. The rules were simple: there was to be no talk about Ben or family, and although I could see the curiosity in Alistair’s eyes, he didn’t press any further, which I was grateful for. Even with our lighthearted banter – my life in Australia, sports, painting, his life in Chicago, the city he considered his second home – my attempts to try to forget Ben became more difficult any time Alistair smiled, or creased his brow.
Even as I looked over the drinks menu, my eyes settled on something that reminded me of Ben – the ‘Dark and Stormy’: a long drink consisting of Gosling’s Black Seal Rum and Gosling’s Ginger Beer.
‘I’ll have one of those please.’ I pointed to the menu.
Alistair peered over my shoulder and grimaced. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’
‘Time to mix it up.’
Alistair didn’t seem as convinced, but knew better than to argue with a woman. ‘One Dark and Stormy coming up.’ He nodded at the barman.
I felt free, my spirits were lifted, I had even laughed with strangers in the bar, feasted on a bowl of nachos and collectively screamed with joy over a Rangers touchdown on the big screen, giving out high fives. I had never felt more like a New Yorker – I was one of them, just your average Joe, enjoying a Saturday arvo in the local, until Dave weaved his way through the crowd.
‘Dave, my main man, have a nacho,’ Alistair yelled above the chaos, slapping him on the shoulder.
Dave smiled. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve received word that I’m to pick Mr Worthington and Miss Grace up from Brooklyn, so if you want a lift back …’
‘Ah, I see, spoiler alert.’ Alistair laughed. ‘No trouble, Dave.’ He downed his last mouthful of beer and turned to me. ‘You ready?’
‘Aw, I don’t wanna,’ I pouted, sliding off my stool and realising the ground had moved since last time I was acquainted with it. I giggled. ‘Oops.’
Alistair caught me. ‘Yep, definitely time for home,’ he said, slinking my arm around his shoulder and helping me zig-zag out of the bar.
‘Aw, you’re the nice one,’ I slurred. ‘Not the nasty one.’
Alistair chuckled. ‘Thought we weren’t going to talk about that,’ he said, following Dave out of the bar. The cool air of the alley was welcome against my hot skin.
‘I didn’t mention any names,’ I insisted.
Dave opened the door and helped Alistair pile me into the car. ‘Watch your head,’ he said, and before I knew it, I had faceplanted onto the leather seat, Alistair attempting to stay out of the way of my flailing legs as he moved me along.
‘Don’t look at my undies,’ I mumbled, my eyes closed.
Alistair laughed. ‘I’ll try not to.’
‘Good,’ I said, sitting up, my eyes drooping, head bobbing, and before I knew it I
was falling, falling, falling, until I felt Alistair’s thigh against my cheek. It was the comfiest thigh ever, and just as I drifted off into an alcohol-inspired state of unconsciousness, I was soothed by the gentle strokes of fingers through my hair, pushing the strands away from my face, and what felt like a blanket being pulled over me. I stirred, and saw the silken interior of Alistair’s jacket.
Once I realised the car was moving and I was safely on my way back to the Village, I allowed sleep to claim me.
‘Come on, Sarah, you’re going to have to help me here.’ I heard the strain in Alistair’s voice, mainly because my head rested right next to his cheek, and I could feel his laboured breaths against my face. ‘Trust your room to be on the top floor,’ he groaned, readjusting me in his arms before he navigated the final flight of stairs.
‘I told you the couch was fine,’ I mumbled.
‘Oh yeah, Ben would love that as a welcome home.’
I glowered at Alistair’s profile. ‘I told you not to say his name.’ Hearing it was the equivalent of fingernails running down a chalkboard.
‘Oh well, here you go.’ Alistair twisted the handle and kicked the door open, dumping me on top of my bed. He bent over, hands to his kness, to catch his breath, then he straightened and stretched his back out.
I grabbed my pillow, hugging it close to me and snuggling into my mattress. ‘My hero,’ I said, smacking my lips together.
My bedroom door opened, and I looked up to see Alistair lingering in the doorway, getting ready to leave. ‘Thanks for making me forget,’ I said.
Alistair smiled. ‘Any time, although you never did manage to tell me what we were drinking to forget.’
My dopey smile slipped from my face as rolled onto my back, my blurry eyes focusing on the ceiling. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said before turning away from Alistair’s eyes, so much like Ben’s. ‘None of it matters.’ I drifted off to sleep, only to be haunted by Penny Worthington’s voice.
Not in a million years.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The only thing that dragged me from my sleep was the pounding of my head. I squinted into the dark, realising I hadn’t moved a muscle from the position Alistair had left me in. The pounding in my head amplified. No, wait. I twisted myself around, following the sound – it was coming from my door.
‘Sarah, you okay?’ Ben’s muffled voice came through the door. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Yep,’ I blurted without thinking. I sat bolt upright. Oh, bad idea. The room was spinning. I clutched my head as I sank down into my mattress.
The door opened and the light went on, blinding me. I whimpered and covered my eyes.
‘Oh, shit, sorry,’ he said, turning the light off straightaway. I felt the dip of the mattress as he sat on the edge. ‘Jesus, Sarah, are you all right?’ He placed his hand on my forehead, then my cheek. ‘Mom told me you left her place unwell. I came back as soon as I heard.’
I was unwell, deeply unwell, but not in the way he thought. ‘I’ll be all right, just a bit under the weather, nothing that some sleep won’t fix.’
‘You feel hot,’ he said, touching my face again with his large hands. He clearly didn’t realise that touching me like that was what was making me hot.
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked. His voice was all seriousness. I wanted to ask if nachos counted but thought better of it. I just shook my head carefully.
‘Do you think you could manage something, just something little?’
His voice rolled over me and my skin prickled. I pulled myself onto my elbows. ‘I could probably try something.’ I still felt a bit tipsy, and my stomach rumbled at the thought of food, but how long it would stay down was anyone’s guess.
Ben grabbed my forearm and squeezed. It was incredible that something so small could evoke such strange sensations in me. ‘Good girl,’ he said, and the lightness in his voice made me think he had smiled.
‘I might just grab a shower before I head down,’ I said, my voice gravelly, my lips dry.
‘Will you be okay?’
I had visions of Ben giving me a sponge bath and foot massage and as much as I was lapping up this softer, dare I say, caring side of him, I knew I couldn’t push my luck.
‘I think I can manage.’
I let the hot water fall around my neck and shoulders as I pressed my forehead against the marble wall. I was trying to think of the positive: tackle the hangover now and I wouldn’t have to face it tomorrow. I had popped two pills to ward off the headache and as much as I gagged when I brushed my teeth under the shower, I was relieved that, beyond that, I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up – I was just hungry.
Engulfed in my robe, I made my way to my room feeling almost human. My bed covers were half strewn over the floor, so I picked them up, pausing as I lifted a layer and spotted something black. I bent over to pick it up and recognized it from touch and then smell: cool, clean and crisp. Alistair’s jacket. Expensive purple silk lining, and no doubt tailor made.
I draped it over the back of my chair, making a note to give it to Dave to return. I couldn’t recall Alistair asking me to keep quiet about our outing, but after what Louisa had told me, I wouldn’t be announcing it.
I flicked through my clothes, thinking of nothing but comfort: my grey, three-quarter length yoga pants and my I NY T-shirt, the one I hadn’t worn since that infamous night. I couldn’t help but grin putting it on, thinking about the look on Ben’s face. It drooped off my shoulder. It didn’t take much for the cheap fabric to get stretched, and when I thought about how it got stretched I could feel my cheeks warm. I readjusted it to sit as best it could. Towel drying my hair, I pulled it into a ponytail, letting it fall over my bare shoulder.
Now I felt more like myself again, I carefully made my way down the stairs, skimming along the walls and concentrating on every single step.
But my grand entrance to the kitchen was wasted – Ben was on the phone, his back turned.
‘Yeah, she’s fine, just about to eat.’ He was looking down at a piece of paper, half distracted from the conversation as he agreed, ‘Yes, yes, I will … I will.’ It was then he turned to me. He quickly pushed the paper into his pocket. It had me thinking that whatever was on it was secret. That was soon forgotten as Ben’s eyes raked over my attire. He recognised it, of that I was sure, I could tell by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
‘Listen, I’ve got to go, I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Yes, yes, I will, okay, yep, right, bye … bye.’ He sighed deeply, and ended the call. ‘You must have given Mom quite the fright, this is her second call to check in on you.’
I breathed out a laugh. Yeah, so concerned she couldn’t even walk me to the door. Still Penny Worthington being concerned at all was pretty amazing. ‘That was thoughtful of her.’
‘As was your visit,’ Ben said, coming to stand nearer to me, and looking down into my eyes, a certain softness in them making me blush.
‘Oh, she told you then.’
‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘I know.’
‘But I’m grateful that you did.’
‘I just wanted to make sure that—’
‘You hungry?’
‘Starved!’
He smiled – small, but it was there. ‘Follow me.’
Ben opened the door to the basement level that I had forgotten existed. He flicked a switch, illuminating a lush, indulgent cinema room, with wood-panelled walls, a multilevel seating area filled with leather chairs, and the largest screen I had ever seen in a home. On the ceiling, small recessed lights shone through the black as if to replicate the night sky; in the corner was a fully stocked candy bar with a carnival theme. I could just imagine teenage Grace bringing her friends down here and hosting the most incredible slumber parties.
‘Do you want to know the best seat in the house?’
‘Okay.’
He pointed to the long, curved modular lounge on the top tier, the one covered in a plush chocolate-colou
red material. On the over-stuffed cushions sat a blanket and pillow. He guided me to sit directly in the middle. Without saying a word, he grabbed the blanket and threw it over me, engulfing my giggles, then he grabbed the pillow.
‘Up,’ he directed and I sat forward so he could place the pillow behind me. I couldn’t stop running my palms along the velvety fabric of the lounge, thinking if I had a room like this I would never, ever, leave it. And just before I could get settled, Ben reached down and pulled a lever, flinging my legs up so fast I yelped before breaking into another fit of giggles.
‘Sorry.’ He laughed. ‘I’m trying to be a gracious host and so far I’ve nearly smothered you with a blanket and given you whiplash; I clearly suck at playing nurse.’
I thought about the reason he was making me comfortable, pampering me, making me put my feet up: it was because he thought I was legitimately sick. Pangs of guilt engulfed me; if by some freak event lightning should pierce its way into this cinema room and strike me down, I swear, I’d deserve it.
‘Listen, I am feeling so much better, you don’t need to fuss.’
‘Sarah.’ He said my name like a warning, a non-negotiable command to sit down and not move. He handed me a remote that looked like it was made by NASA. My eyes widened as I held it, looking over it in horror.
‘I don’t know what to do with that.’ I shrugged, handing it back to him, and he laughed.
‘Okay, how about some music then?’
With my painkillers taking the edge off my headache, music sounded like a dream. ‘Perfect.’
Ben seemed pleased. With a quick nod, he headed for the stairs. It suddenly occurred to me how quiet it was.
‘Ben, where’s Grace?’
He looked at me. ‘When I heard you’d come home sick, I thought it might be best for Grace to stay in Brooklyn, give you a night’s sleep. I’m going to get her in the morning.’
Now I felt really bad; one phone call from Penny and not only was I getting the VIP experience but now there was quarantine. Oh boy.
I smiled weakly. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’
