So, much to the dismay of my heart and my ovaries, I just continued to watch him and swoon from afar.
Fin
After plenty of encouragement from our parents, I proposed to Elise on her twenty-third birthday. We were in Paris, and as we sat there before the Eiffel Tower, eating pain au chocolat and drinking coffee from paper cups, I presented her with a cushion cut, diamond solitaire ring. Talk about cliché. But it seemed to make her happy, and so it all felt worth it. We agreed on a very long engagement, which eased my stress of being betrothed somewhat under duress. Although, our long engagement hadn’t gone down too well with the parents. They were getting antsy about us setting the date. There had been several tense conversations between my parents and me where I was accused of stalling, and I was informed that Elise’s parents were beginning to think I didn’t want to marry their precious daughter. But like the dutiful son I was, I kept my feelings bottled up and my mouth shut. After all, me marrying the right girl would make Dad happy, wouldn’t it? Hetty tried her best to encourage me to tell the truth. She insisted that marrying someone I didn’t love was crazy, and that I deserved to be truly happy. Bless her.
I think the real cracks began to appear in our relationship when Elise was sent to London to assist our office in a temporary partnership with another firm connected to an international fraud case. She was gone for a month, and honestly, I enjoyed the time alone. I know that makes me sound like a shit, but I felt free for a while. I could only presume Elise felt the same way.
Having the apartment to myself was great. I walked around in my undies. I sang along to my favourite music at the top of my voice, pretending to be on stage like I used to when I was a kid and Hetty was looking after me. I left the milk out on the counter top, didn’t shave on weekends, and slept in until lunch time on Sundays. All the luxuries that living with an anal, music-hating, clean freak didn’t afford me.
I began to wonder if perhaps I was better off alone.
♫♫♫
It was the night before Elise was due home, and I was walking around the apartment, trying to ensure everything was tidy to her standards. I had done nothing but think about our situation, and I had come to the conclusion that Hetty was right. This marriage would be a step too far to please a man whose love I had not yet earned by any other means. Why would marrying my friend make a positive difference? After all, she was just my friend. We weren’t in love. Our time apart had clarified that fact for me and I guessed it would be the same for her.
I was placing the last of my dirty plates into the dishwasher to ensure the place was spotless, when my phone rang with “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother”. It was supposed to be ironic, as middle-aged spread had already made itself known to Callum, and hearing his ringtone—knowing he was oblivious to my reasons for selecting it—usually brought a wry smile to my face. But this time when I picked up the call, I had a feeling in my gut that I couldn’t explain.
“Fin?” There was a distinct edge of worry to his voice that made my hairs stand up. He had uttered one word, but the fact that it wasn’t preceded by some rude name or a loud belch instantly told me something was amiss.
“Hi, Cal. What’s up? Why so serious?” For a split second, I held my breath, waiting for the joke.
“Hi, kid. It’s…it’s Dad. He’s had a heart attack.”
Oh, shit. He’s calling me kid. That’s really not good. Fuck. “Is he…did he…?” I swallowed hard as my own heart began a futile attempt at an escape through my ribcage.
“He’s not dead, no. But, it’s pretty serious. I think you should you get to the hospital as soon as you can.”
He gave me all the details I needed and I typed them, one-handed, into the memo pad on my phone.
When I arrived, Dad’s room was silent, aside from bleeping machinery, and we all sat around his bed, watching him sleep in his drug-induced slumber. According to the consultant, the heart attack had—thankfully—been mild, but of course, it didn’t stop us from worrying.
My mother looked pale, and I realised I hadn’t ever seen her looking her real age. Not until that occasion. She was usually fully made up, regardless of the time of day. Never a hair out of place. In fact, Isobel Hunter was like a WAG; a footballer’s wife of her day. In her teens, she’d been a fashion model with high society aspirations. She too was from a wealthy family, but it was her looks that propelled her forward. She’s beautiful. Tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, like my brother and me.
Once she married Dad, she gave up her modelling career and spent her time hosting dinner parties and adding to her ridiculous shoe collection. In all honesty, she was never cut out to be a mother, and regardless of how I tried to get her attention, I usually ended up feeling like an inconvenience. It’s my guess that she would have remained childless if she had met anyone but my father. You see, he’s of the old “keep the family line going” generation, and I’m pretty sure the fact that he had male children was a bonus for him. Shame he never showed it.
Without acknowledging me, my mother left the room to get coffee—I guessed it was at least her sixth cup judging by the empty cardboard receptacles beside her seat. Callum had left a while before to take his heavily pregnant wife home, and so when my father eventually awoke, I was alone with him. Campbell Hunter. My father, the force to be reckoned with. The man I had always tried in vain to please.
Should I tell him I won’t be marrying Elise whilst he’s in hospital? At least they’ll be able to look after him if my news brings on another attack. Ugh…such macabre thoughts…
“Finlay? Finlay, is that you?”
My father’s croaky voice dragged me from my thoughts, and I moved my chair closer. “Yes, Dad. I’m here.”
He wearily glanced around his surroundings. “Good…good. Where’s your mother? And your brother?”
“Mum has just gone for coffee. It’s quite late and I guess she wanted to stay awake. Callum’s taken Tori home. She was exhausted. But we’ve all been here. Even Hetty and Fred.”
He sighed. “She’s leaving, you know? Hetty, I mean. Thinks we don’t need her anymore. Pah!”
I smiled. “Well, you don’t really.”
His brow furrowed. “Your mother’s cooking is inedible, and mine’s even worse. Lord only knows what we’ll do for food.”
I couldn’t help chuckling at his comment. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”
Dad reached for me with the arm that wasn’t tied up to drips and gripped me weakly. “Finlay. I need you to promise me something.”
Oh God…here it comes. “Of course. What is it, Dad?”
He looked me straight in the eyes. “That you’ll set a date and marry Elise as soon as possible.”
My heart plummeted. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Dad…I can’t—”
“Pish tosh, Finlay. You can and you must. Promise me. I may not be around too much longer and I want to know that grandsons are at least on the horizon.”
Talk about a guilt trip. I took a deep breath, released myself from my father’s feeble grip, and rubbed my hands over my face. “Yes, Dad. I promise.”
Star
“Are you going out with Mick the prick tonight, Twinkle?” Alec’s voice called to me from the living room where he had papers spread all over the coffee table. I poured hot water into my herbal tea and rolled my eyes. He had never liked my latest beau, and I doubted he ever would.
I met Mick at the bar where he works. It was one time when I was out with some friends and we got split up. I was sitting at the bar texting around trying to locate the gang when I was approached by some douche who presumed I was an easy lay. Mick came to my rescue and pretended to be my boyfriend until the asshole got the message and left. I was really grateful for what he did and so when he asked me out just as some of the group arrived, I said yes. That had been almost a year ago and things were going okay, I guess. There were no fireworks, but he was a decent enough guy, and the sex wasn’t too bad. Nothing mind melting, but you know, it was okay.
Mick was skinny
with spiky hair and tattoos—some of which a five-year-old could’ve done better—and he had hazel eyes. He was no Adonis, but he was cute in his own quirky way. I guess that’s what attracted me to him, along with his chivalry. You see, I considered myself quirky. I wasn’t traditionally beautiful, but don’t get me wrong, I was no fugly girl.
I clipped the lid on my thermal mug and remembered Alec had asked me a question. “No, Al. I wish you wouldn’t call him that. Anyway, I think he has to work tonight. Why do you ask?”
Alec appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “I was going to suggest we grab a takeaway and have a movie night. Thought we could watch Magic Mike.” I turned to face him and the grin on his face accompanied a cheeky sparkle in his eye.
I couldn’t help laughing. “Okay. Sounds good to me. What time will you be in work today?”
He shrugged. “Oh, probably around eleven. I have to go to the wholesalers for some more of those caramel wafers. We seem to have had a run on them this week.”
I cringed, not daring to admit that the “run” had partly been thanks to me nibbling on them while I worked.
I walked through to where he sat, spectacles perched on the end of his nose so the vain guy wasn’t quite wearing them. Why he couldn’t just accept that his eyesight was beginning to worsen was lost on me.
I leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Okay. See you later then. I’m outta here.” I left the apartment, singing to my iPod as I walked. You can’t beat The Proclaimers to put you in a good mood for the day, and I found myself wondering if Mick would walk five hundred miles just to see me. Sadly, I kind of doubted it.
It was a bright but chilly April Wednesday, and the city I loved was buzzing to life as I walked along Princes Street to the coffee shop. All around me, shutters were being yanked up, lights were being flicked on, and each shop’s music could just be heard over the sound of “Letter From America” which was now bouncing around my noggin.
I always arrived a little early, but I loved my job. There was something satisfying about being the first person through the door of the empty shop. The aroma of coffee delighted my senses and made my mouth water. Herbal tea was always my first drink of the day, and in all honesty, I preferred the smell of the coffee to the taste. I loved the earthy, burnt aroma that made me think of hot climates and hot, tanned men.
Why was I living in Scotland again?
Once the machines were switched on and ready to go, the point of sale sundries were topped up, and the music was playing, I stood behind the counter waiting for the first customer of the day. I should’ve known better. I always lost myself in a good song, and today was no different. Bouncing around behind the counter with my hands in the air like I just didn’t care, I was busy singing along to “Gigantic” by the Pixies when I turned and froze. I felt the heat of embarrassment rise in my cheeks as I looked into sparkling blue eyes filled with mirth.
Oh my God. Ground, swallow me whole right now. “Oh…h-hey there. What can I get you?” I made a vain attempt to flatten my crazy morning hair and to not sound like I was on the verge of collapse.
Mr McYummy pulled his lips in, clearly stifling a grin. There he stood in a navy suit, navy shirt, and a bright blue tie that made his eyes pop. It was an odd combination in my opinion, but it somehow worked on him. Then again, a garbage sack with a dog leash tied around the middle would look good on him. He was clean-shaven, and all I could think was how good it would feel to run my tongue along his angular jaw. He was completely out of my league and not at all like the guys I was usually attracted to, but there was something about him that pulled me in like iron to magnet.
A heart-melting smile spread across his face and I was gone…completely gone. “Um…can I get a latte with skim milked to take out, please?”
Oh, man. That accent.
I smiled brightly. “Sure you can.” I turned briefly to prepare the machine. “So, any plans for the rest of your week?” I thought I knew the answer, but it was a great excuse to watch him blush and hear more of that delicious, deep voice.
A strange expression briefly crossed his features, and if I hadn’t been looking closely I would have missed it, but it was rapidly replaced by an almost painful and evidently forced grin.
He clenched his jaw as his nostrils flared and he inhaled deeply. “Actually, I do have plans.” It was cute that he seemed surprised by his own reply, and I immediately wondered what he meant. This was the most he had ever offered, and it was quite thrilling, but my mind went into overdrive.
Oh my God, this has the potential to be an actual conversation. Breathe, Star. Breathe. “Oh, excellent. Anything exciting?”
He pulled his wallet from his inside pocket, and as he did, my gaze was drawn to his broad chest, but he spoke again and snapped me back from my fantasy. “I suppose it is.” He didn’t look convinced. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”
Oh. Fucking. Crap.
My heart plummeted in my chest and I lost the ability to speak for a few moments. I was unsure of what to say. I was so bummed at what he’d said. Stupid, considering I had a boyfriend and had never actually had the courage to have a proper conversation with the guy until the day before his fucking wedding.
Typical.
Once I’d recovered my off-kilter composure, I turned to him again with the biggest grin I could muster. “Oh, that’s great. Congratulations. Here’s your coffee and a chocolate chip cookie on the house.” I handed the cup over with the cookie I’d wrapped in readiness as a way to hide my flustered state.
He smiled and looked me straight in the eyes, but paused for a moment and frowned with his eyes locked on mine. A shiver travelled down my spine, and I opened my mouth to speak, although I have no clue what I would’ve said even if my mouth had worked.
After what felt like an age—but was probably more like three seconds—he spoke again. “Thanks very much. That’s really kind. Have a great weekend.” The look of confusion was nothing but a memory, and his eyes were once again clear and vibrant.
“Yeah, and you go have a great wedding!” I called after him, feeling like a complete douchebag.
He lifted his cup in a salute, turned, and walked out of the shop, leaving me a little shell shocked at both the intensity of his parting gaze and the news he’d imparted. Suddenly feeling a little emotional, I walked over to my iPod and flicked the next track along before the introduction had even ended. Listening to “3 Libras” by A Perfect Circle would have broken my heart right then.
♫♫♫
Later that night, Alec and I sat eating popcorn and watching hunky men remove their clothes to music, but all I could think about was the intensity of the locked gaze that Mr McYummy and I had shared. Add to that the strange but bold announcement he’d made and the odd look on his face when he’d made it, and I sincerely wished I’d got some clue as to what was going on in that head of his before he left the coffee shop.
“…don’t you think, Twinkle?” Alec’s voice ripped me from my reverie.
I turned my head toward him. “Huh?”
“Where were you? I was just saying that Joe Manganiello has the best abs.”
I nodded. “Oh, yeah, totally.”
“Mmm. I wonder what cologne he wears.” He sighed dreamily. Turning toward me, he scrunched his brow. “Everything okay? You’ve been a bit quiet today. Did something happen at work?”
Yep. The guy I’ve been fantasising about for Lord knows how long is marrying someone else tomorrow. “Um…no. No. Everything’s fine. I think I’m just tired is all,” I lied.
He pulled his lips in as if he’d sucked on a lemon. “Yeah, whatever you say, babe. You’ll tell me when you’re ready, I suppose.”
Alec knew me far too well. I could hide nothing from him. I feigned a yawn. “I think I’m gonna crash, Al. I’m really tired. Do you mind?”
He rolled his eyes. “I suppose not. Although, once you’ve gone to bed, I wouldn’t venture back in here, if you know what I mean.” He winked and I cringed.
&n
bsp; I picked up a throw cushion and whacked him on the head with it. “Eeeeugh. Seriously, Alec. TMI, dude.”
I walked away as quick as I could, shaking my head, determined to rid myself of the mental images I had reluctantly acquired from my best friend.
Fin
My father’s voice rang out around the room. “I can’t believe you didn’t treat her better, Finlay.”
I sat at my parents’ kitchen table, being bombarded with accusations about my conduct when I hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Elise had left me at the fucking altar, yet there I was, head in hands, being shouted at. Bloody typical. Nothing I ever did was right in spite of trying so damned hard to be what they wanted me to be.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t ready for giving up yet. “If you’d set the blasted date earlier. If you’d shown some blessed commitment. What will people think?”
My mother wailed at his words and dramatically dabbed at her eyes with a lace hanky. “Oh, how will I show my face in public? The shame of it all, Finlay. How could you?”
It was like shit-throwing tennis and I was the net. Dad piped up again. “Honestly, Finlay, did you really think a girl like Elise would wait around forever? I think this is the worst thing you’ve ever done, and that’s saying something.”
That was it.
My blood rushed through my veins and my heart hammered in my chest.
I snapped.
Slamming my hands down on the table, I stood to face my parents with gritted teeth. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve worked my arse off trying to be the best son I could be. I’ve let you run my fucking life for twenty-seven years.” They stared at me wide-eyed as I let my feelings fly at full pelt and full volume. “I’ve done everything you wanted me to do. I even agreed to marry someone I wasn’t in love with for you! And this is what happens? You gang up on me when I’m the one who’s been humiliated! I’m the one who was left at the fucking altar! Not you! And all you care about is what people will say? Well, fuck this shit. I’ve had enough! Do you hear me? ENOUGH!” And with that, I grabbed my car keys and stormed out of the house, letting the large oak door slam behind me.
Duplicity Page 2
