Blind-Date Marriage

by Fiona Harper

  He grunted.

  She hummed a bar or two of a Viennese waltz.

  ‘Smile, Kevin, everybody’s watching.’

  ‘It’s Daddy K to you.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  She tucked her arm into his and they turned to face the gathering crowd, their smiles little more than bared teeth.

  A shiver crawled up Serena’s spine. Someone was watching her—which was an absurd thing to think. At least two hundred people had their eyes trained on her and the boy wonder, but it still felt as if, somewhere in the crowd, a pair of eyes was pinning her down.

  Her ivy earrings swung as she whipped her head around and met his stare.

  Jake.

  Her heart performed a perfect swan dive and burrowed into the toes of her boots. Never in a million years had she expected to see him here. The ghost of yesteryear, maybe, echoes of Jake that lurked in the stairwells and playground, but never the new, updated and improved version. She’d thought she’d be safe here.

  Why? Why was he here? It made no sense. He’d run away so fast from this place there were still skid marks on the pavement.

  Then she caught sight of Mel, looking from her to Jake and back again, and she knew why. What chance did they have against the combined forces of Cassie and Mel? Were they trying to set them up again, as if nothing had happened? Unbelievable! She was going to wipe that soppy look off Mel’s face the first opportunity she got.

  She looked back towards the door. It was still open. A couple of steps and she’d be out of there, running as fast as her high-heeled boots could take her.

  Kevin—she refused to call him by his ridiculous stage name—tugged her forward as he approached a man in a wrinkled suit. But her boots stayed glued to the floor. She recognised the man as a local councillor who’d suddenly decided to champion the project now he had the chance of seeing his face in the paper.

  Kevin took another step forward and her arm slid free of his, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the hall. The words sitting and duck came to mind.

  Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him!

  Oh, you spineless creature!

  Jake hadn’t moved a muscle. He was leaning against the wall, his brows crinkled together, giving Daddy K the evil eye.

  He’s jealous?

  That was rich, considering who had dumped who! She straightened and stared at him until he made eye contact. Once that small victory was accomplished, she nudged forward and slid her arm into Kevin’s again.

  One of the helpers brushed past her.

  ‘Michelle, could you shut that door for me, please? It’s letting all the cold air in.’

  The girl nodded and scurried away.

  No more Miss Puffy-Eyed Wimp! She dug her heels into the ancient lino and did her best to ignore the heat of Jake’s eyes boring into the back of her head.

  An hour later the music was still pumping. Kevin was performing a couple of songs, and Serena felt like a three-year-old without her security blanket. She jostled her way through the crowd to the non-alcoholic bar and grabbed a bottle of mineral water. Then, just as she was elbowing her way out of the crush, she came face to face with the man she’d been doing her best to avoid.

  Why did he have to look so gorgeous? Couldn’t he have grown an extra head or broken out in boils in the last couple of months?

  ‘Hello, Serena.’ That much was easy to lip-read.

  Hello, worm.

  ‘Hello, Jake,’ she shouted back.

  He said something else, but she couldn’t make half of it out through the throbbing music.

  ‘Pardon?’

  He leant in close to speak into her ear. After eight weeks and five days of no contact, he was pushing her into sensory overload. Not only was his breath warming her cheek, but he smelled so good! Like crisp clean shirts with a hint of aftershave.

  ‘How have you been?’

  It was just as well his questions were as inane as the answers that whirred through her head. He was far too close to make sparkling repartee a possibility. She would just be happy if her mouth moved and sound came out.

  ‘Fine. You?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Both their pants should be on fire, figuratively speaking. She’d never seen him look so tense. Where was the effortless charm? Had he checked it in at Customs when he returned?

  ‘We can’t talk here.’ His voice was just that little bit too loud in her ear and she pulled away.

  ‘Who says we’ve got anything left to say to each other?’

  She gave him what she hoped was a scorching look then wove her way over to the other side of the room. She undid the lid on her bottle of water and took a gulp.

  ‘I don’t want to leave things like this between us.’ They were now far enough from the speakers for her to decipher his yelling.

  She should have guessed he wouldn’t give up that easily. On some level she’d wanted him to follow her, wanted a chance to vent her anger. The imaginary conversations she’d been having with him since Christmas could now become a reality. Perhaps then the words would stop circuiting her head as if it were a racetrack.

  She screwed the lid back on her water bottle so tight the ridges burned her fingers. ‘Don’t pretend you care, Jake. You’re the one who ended it, remember? Just be glad I’m moving on instead of stalking you.’

  ‘Moving on?’ He flashed a quick look at Kevin and the heaving mass of girls trying to storm the makeshift stage. ‘You know it’s not that I didn’t like you—’

  Serena lifted her chin and stretched her lips into a smile. ‘Save it for someone who cares, Charlie.’

  His jaw clenched so tight she thought his teeth would shatter. She’d hit a nerve. Good!

  ‘You’re a fake. Do you know that, Jake?’

  She would swear she could actually hear his blood bubbling in response to that. Or perhaps it was the steady bass beat of Kevin’s song.

  ‘Me? A fake?’

  ‘Yes, you. You look like a decent, caring man, but—’ her voice was getting shrill ‘—but underneath you’re a commitment-phobic coward like the rest of your species!’ She finished her tirade and froze.

  Everyone was staring at them. At her. And the music had stopped. While her lips twitched and she wondered how to dissolve into nothing, Jake grabbed her arm and yanked her out through the door.

  He didn’t need to shout outside. The barely contained whisper he used next was far more lethal. Her confidence evaporated.

  ‘I didn’t ever pretend to be anything I’m not. What are us guys supposed to do? Wear little flashing neon signs saying “Husband Material”? You jumped to your happy-ever-after conclusions all on your own. You saw what you wanted to see.’

  Words tripped over her tongue and fell flat before they passed her teeth. What could she say? Jake smiled, but not one of his heart-melting ones. This one was cold and brittle, but his voice still came out even and normal. She hated the fact he could do that when all she could manage were squeaks and screeches.

  ‘Anyway, you seem to have moved on to new pastures—or should I say happy hunting grounds? I hope the poor sucker knows what he’s letting himself in for.’

  ‘You arrogant—’ She stopped herself before she said something really unladylike. ‘What’s so wrong with wanting a husband and a family? It’s hardly abnormal! Isn’t that what everyone’s searching for—a little love and happiness?’

  Jake stopped smiling and looked sheepish.

  All the rage was suddenly sucked out of her. Why couldn’t it have been him? Life was so unfair! She took a deep breath and tried to disguise her quivering lip by bowing her head.

  He gently tipped her face up again by lifting her chin with his finger. ‘Let’s not fight. It’s pointless. I’ve told you before that you’re a unique woman, Serena. You’re right, you deserve the love and happiness you’re looking for.’

  Oh, this was worse! His anger she could handle, but his pity…?

  ‘Just not with you.’

  ‘No.’<
br />
  ‘Why not?’ If she was going to embarrass herself past the point of no return, she might as well get the whole lot off her chest.

  ‘I wouldn’t make you happy. I’d break your heart.’

  Too late. It’s a done deal.

  ‘How do you know unless you try?’

  ‘I did try once. It was a complete disaster. I’m not about to mess up anyone else’s life like that.’

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of Jake with someone else, of him loving someone else. It wasn’t that he couldn’t commit, just that he wouldn’t with her.

  ‘There’s not much I can say to that, is there?’

  Jake ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Look, I’m taking time off work this week, to help with some of the workshops, and if we’re going to be around each other we’re going to have to find a way to co-exist harmoniously.’

  She sighed and nodded. He was right again, and it made her want to box his ears for being all reasonable and logical when her heart was fracturing into cold, solid lumps.

  ‘Okay. Truce.’ She offered him a hand and he took it, but instead of shaking it he just stood there looking at it, his fingers blistering her skin. Then his thumb brushed against the back of her hand, giving her a jolt of raw awareness.

  They both continued to look at their joined hands.

  He felt it too. He must do. For all his sane words, he was no more immune to the chemistry between them than she was. She looked up at him and saw the truth of it in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her.

  She knew she should push him away, but instead of resisting him with the hand that had flown to his chest, she slid it up behind his neck and pulled him closer.

  Once they started kissing, they couldn’t seem to stop. She’d kissed him many times in the few weeks they’d gone out, but this one had an edge to it. There was a hunger and a quiet desperation from him that had never been evident before. He kissed her like a drowning man gasping for air, as if he needed it to survive. Her foolish heart leapt at the knowledge.

  It was Jake who dragged himself away first. She rested her head against his shoulder, eyes still closed, and tasted him on her lips with her tongue. The courage to open her lids and look him in the face was nowhere to be found.

  ‘I’m sorry, Serena. I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong to let…’

  His voice was heavy with regret. If only the concrete slabs beneath her feet would open up and swallow her.

  ‘What I was trying to say…before…was that we should try to remain civil—be friends, even.’

  Oh, he really had no clue, did he?

  Still, she nodded, opened her eyes and stared resolutely at his chest. Her hand was pressed against it again. She snatched it away.

  ‘Of course. Friends.’

  Then he turned and walked back inside, leaving her to prop herself up against the rough-plastered wall and wonder why she hadn’t noticed sooner how cold it was outside.

  Serena looked at her watch for the fifteenth time. Eighteen minutes past eight, Monday morning, and she was at the community centre, setting up for the day ahead. Mel had nipped out to the local shop to buy some more coffee, so she unstacked the chairs in blissful silence.

  Come to think of it, Mel had been gone an awfully long time.

  She stuck her head out through the front door and did a quick scan of the surrounding area. Mel’s pink coat was visible some distance away. Her head was bobbing up and down furiously as she talked to a man in grey.

  A cold wave crashed in Serena’s tummy.

  A grey coat. Just like the man who had followed her the other day. What if Mel was in trouble? She was just about to shove the door wider and race over there when Mel gave the man a hug and headed back in her direction.

  Serena peered at the stranger. He had his back to her, and it was impossible to tell if it was the same person. This man wasn’t wearing a hat and scarf. The only similarities were the colour of his coat and his height.

  She shrugged and shook her head. Mel obviously wasn’t bothered by him. She was probably just imagining things. Her nerves were wire-tight. It was hardly surprising if she was dreaming up trouble where there was none.

  She let the door flap closed and returned to setting up the chairs and instruments for the ‘Guitar for Dummies’ workshop. Mel had shanghaied Jake into leading that one. She checked her watch again. Another thirty-eight minutes and he’d be here. She stood, chair held mid-air, and wished the sick feeling in her stomach away.

  The thup-thup of the swing door announced Mel’s return.

  ‘I can’t believe Mr Singh still runs the corner shop! I was always a little scared of him as a child, but he practically vaulted over the counter to shake my hand just now.’

  ‘You were a long time.’

  Mel paused. ‘Yes…well, like I said, I was catching up with Mr Singh.’

  ‘Who was the other man you were talking to?’

  ‘What man?’ Mel fiddled with her top button.

  ‘The one in the grey coat.’

  ‘Oh, him. That was no one. He was just asking for directions.’

  Serena raised an eyebrow as Mel shrugged off her coat and busied herself putting the jar of coffee away.

  Jake looked at the circle of faces in front of him and inwardly winced. A dozen or so teenage boys and girls were staring at him, waiting for him to impress them. He was having fantasies of making a break for it and leaving a Jake-shaped hole in the nearest wall. He’d been less terrified when Lord and Lady Balfour had summoned him to their castle to discuss streamlining their estate’s finances.

  Five hours of workshops this week—and there were four hours and fifty-six minutes left to go. The second hand of the badly hung clock couldn’t clunk through the seconds fast enough. Then he could get out of this hellhole and back to his real life.

  Knowing she was watching him didn’t help. She was trying to pretend she wasn’t watching, but she was. She was just as attuned to him as he was to her. He risked a look across at Serena. Her head was buried in a stack of registration forms. Then her pen stopped moving and she went still. A couple of seconds later she peered at him through her fringe.

  See? Attuned!

  The motley group in front of him began to get restless, and he turned his attention back to them. How did teenage girls manage that withering you’re-such-a-loser look? It must be something to do with their overly tight ponytails.

  When in doubt, he always fell back on his tried and trusted arsenal. He smiled, and the charm started to flow. It was like flicking a switch.

  A loud tut from the desk near the door almost made him falter, but he launched seamlessly into his memorised lesson plan, starting with the basics: which end of the guitar was up.

  Serena, meanwhile, sorted the registration forms into alphabetical order. Then into age order. Then by workshop choices. Anything to keep her eyes away from the far end of the hall.

  The strangling of guitar strings didn’t even register. All she could hear was Jake’s cool voice, carefully explaining basic chords. After their initial display of expected apathy, the workshop participants had settled down, and now hung on his every word. All but one.

  A boy of about fifteen slouched in his plastic chair and hardly bothered to pretend he was placing his fingers in the correct position for E minor. Max something. She flipped through the registration forms again and found his.

  Max Black. Age: fourteen. Address: Ellwood Green Council Estate.

  Why was he here if he wasn’t interested? Oh, right. Max had been recommended by his social worker in an attempt to keep him out of trouble.

  She glanced across at the boy. It was stupid to think this way, but it felt good to know that there was at least one human being immune to the charms of Charles Jacobs, Jr. She was tempted to go and high five Max for that very fine accomplishment, because she was doing a miserable job of being immune to him herself.

  With ten minutes of the workshop left, there was an outburst. Max had got fed up with
acting bored, and tried to join in with the simple tune the rest of the group were strumming. Since he hadn’t paid attention, his fingers tripped over the chord changes and he couldn’t keep up.

  Serena watched Max grind his teeth, then his face flushed deep pink—the only warning an explosion was imminent. He hurled his guitar on the floor, kicked his chair out of the way and stormed out.

  The rest of the group froze, eyes wide. The gentle reverberation of the chord they’d just played hung in the air. They all looked at Jake and waited for him to go ballistic.

  Of course he did nothing of the sort. He calmly righted the upturned chair, sat the dented guitar up against it, and carried on as if nothing had happened.

  From her vantage point near the door, she could still see Max. He was hovering in the shadow of one of the tower blocks. He was too far away to make out his expression, but even at that distance his anger radiated in waves towards them.

  She forgot to shuffle her papers and looked back at Jake. Damn him for being so totally in control of himself! She would love to see him lose it—really lose it—just once. And damn herself for wanting him more each passing day, despite his iron-clad bachelor status.

  Before she’d finished lecturing herself on the pointlessness of it all, Jake had wound up the workshop and the kids had trailed back outside. He’ll probably want a coffee, she thought to herself, and was just about to ask him, heart pulsating in the back of her throat, when he sprinted out through the front door, leaving her gaping.

  No more than five minutes later the door crashed open and he reappeared, frog-marching Max in front of him.

  ‘Well, Max, the damage done to the guitar is fixable, but you are going to have to work off the cost of the repairs by helping out here for the rest of the week.’

  Max grunted, and glared at Jake.

  Jake glared back, unmoved.

  ‘Forget it! I’m not sticking around this dump any longer than I have to. You can take your guitar and shove it—’