Once inside, I placed the food on the stairs, slipped off my boots and turned to hang up my jacket. That was when I spotted the long black coat casually draped over the banister. I reached out and touched the soft lapel, closed my eyes as I breathed in the familiar earthy scent of aftershave.
My heart pounded as I picked up the bags and walked toward the conservatory.
Nate’s voice floated toward me. “...of course at that point I’d met my exes at a university party, a bar and a launderette.”
“Well, the launderette sounds kind of original.” Liam’s voice, deep and gravelly. Manly, sexy. My stomach did a few flips, and I cursed under my breath, willing it to keep still.
“Ah,” Nate said. “That’s what my grandmother said, too, until she found out I’d been moderately wasted. Anyway, I’d better shut up or I’ll bore the crap out of you.” His laugh, a sound that had once made my stomach flutter gently, now left me lukewarm.
“He’s a good man,” I whispered to myself. “Nate’s a good man.”
“It sounds like you were really close to your family,” Liam said.
I swallowed. How long had Liam been there? Had he been watching us from his window, waiting for me to leave so he could get to Nate? And if so, why? He’d been a little jealous when we were dating, sure, although he’d never seemed the vengeful type. But so many years had passed since we’d seen each other, I couldn’t be sure I still knew him at all. And yet, everything about him, his voice, his laugh, the smell of his aftershave, was familiar. More than familiar. In so many ways it was as if we’d never been apart.
“Yeah, really close,” Nate said before clearing his throat. “Like I said, my grandfather was my hero. I was devastated when he died. Going to his funeral was one of the saddest days of my life.”
“I suppose after that you didn’t go north much?”
I put a hand on my stomach in an attempt to stop it from lurching. Why was Liam asking all these questions? What did he want? And what was Nate doing, talking about his family to someone he’d just met?
“I wasn’t planning on it at first,” Nate said, and I wanted him to stop talking so I quickened my step, almost running down the hallway as Nate continued. “But destiny, fate or whatever the hell you want to call it decided otherwise because on the night of the funeral—”
“I’m back,” I said as I charged into the room, my glance darting from Nate to Liam, whose beautiful gray eyes stared straight back into mine.
Nate, who was bent over at the waist, by the look of it about to pot the black, turned around. “Oh, hi.” He put his cue down, walked over and took the bags from me before softly kissing my cheek. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Huh?” I swallowed. Had Liam tensed at Nate’s romantic gesture or had I imagined it?
Nate frowned. “You okay? You were gone for ages.” He went to the kitchen and put the bags down on the table.
“Uh, it was busy.” I tore my gaze from Liam’s and focused on my husband. “And, uh, then a rabbit or something ran in front of the car.”
“Shit, did you hit it? You okay?” Nate put an arm around me, and I wanted to shake it off.
“No, and I’m fine,” I said instead. “Spooked me a bit, that’s all.”
Liam cleared his throat. “I’d better go.”
A few seconds ago I wished he wasn’t in my house. Now I almost told him to please sit back down and have another drink, but I managed to keep my mouth closed.
“Thanks for the beer and the games,” he said to Nate. “Appreciate it, even if I was a crap opponent.”
Liam, a crap opponent? He could have gone professional when we were going out. The local pool club had hailed him a prodigy, and ran under-the-table bets whenever he showed up. Why was he lying about that?
“No sweat,” I heard Nate say as they moved into the hallway. “And I’ll stop by on Friday.”
Friday?
“Sorry?” Liam turned, and I saw his blank expression that probably matched my own.
“Yeah.” Nate laughed. “You know, the heating?”
Liam smacked his forehead with his palm. “Brain overload. Yeah. Friday. Thanks.” He looked at me. “Bye, Abby. Nice to see you again.” He lingered for a moment, and I half expected him to say something else, but then he walked out, so I fled to the kitchen.
I’d barely started functioning again when I heard Nate’s footsteps coming toward me. I tried to make myself look busy and normal by grabbing plates, cutlery and glasses.
“Mmm... This smells delicious.” Nate ripped open the paper bags. Why did he have to tear into them like an animal? He could have easily lifted the containers out, then folded the bags and put them in the recycling bin.
I suppressed what would have been a churlish sigh and smiled instead. “Samosas, lamb korma and chicken vindaloo,” I said, plopping paper napkins on the table.
“Korma and vindaloo?” Nate raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you liked either.”
Another smile. “They’re your favorites. I wanted to do something nice for you.”
His grin was so genuine and full of love, I could feel a lump rising at the back of my throat. I turned and grabbed the jug of lemon water from the fridge, then sat down when I was sure my eyes weren’t glistening anymore.
Once we’d filled our plates, as casually as I could I said, “What’s this about Friday?”
Nate waved his fork around, then swallowed. “Problem with the heating. I told Liam I’d have a look.”
“I thought Barbara only had it installed last year? It’ll be under warranty, won’t it?”
Nate shrugged, dipped a samosa into the little plastic container of green sauce. “Maybe they don’t know. I’ll remind him. It’s probably nothing anyway. He sounded a bit vague.”
The knife in my hand felt like it weighed a ton, so I put it down. “What were you talking about when I came in?” I tried not to snap, telling myself for the twentieth time that day Nate was not at fault, he’d done nothing wrong. He never did anything bloody wrong.
“My family.”
I sat a little straighter, reminding myself to breathe. “What did you say?”
“Not much. Told him a bit about Nana and Granddad, that’s all.”
It dawned on me that Liam must have been trying to size up the competition. Then I almost laughed out loud at how obsessive that sounded, as if I were the center of everybody’s universe. Still... “You told him about your grandparents? Why?”
When Nate shrugged it made me want to slap him. If his attitude was any more laissez-faire, he’d be permanently horizontal. “It was a conversation, Abby. We had a couple of beers, played some pool. We got to talking. Why are you so bothered?”
“I don’t like him.”
“Liam?” He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve only known him five minutes.”
I swallowed hard. “He’s smug. I get this bad vibe from him.”
How long could I keep this pretense up? Was I such a good actress that Nate couldn’t see straight through my lies? Then again, it wasn’t the first time I’d kept things from my husband. Secrets he’d never know about, could never know about. Secrets that would destroy him.
“Ah, crap.” Nate mopped the sauce running down his chin with a napkin. “Well, you’re going to have to give him another chance.”
“Why?” My heart thumped wildly again as I wiped my clammy palms on my trousers.
“He said something about Nancy planning on cooking for us and—”
“I don’t want—”
He held up a hand. “Nothing’s planned yet. And it’s just dinner. It’s not like they asked us to move in. They seem nice to me. Give them a chance. Let the kids hang out, too.”
“No.” My voice came out louder than I’d intended. “No,” I said, more quietly this time. “Sarah told me she hates Zac.”
; Nate laughed. “Sure she does.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Did she say something to you?”
“No, but he’s a good-looking kid, and—” Nate must have caught my startled look because he leaned over the table and put his hand on my arm. “Seriously, are you okay?”
I tried a smile, feeling like one of those clown dolls with a permanently painted-on grimace. All I needed was the ruffled shirt and polka dots to go with it, maybe a monkey with a pair of cymbals. “Yes, fine. Headache.”
“Again?” Nate frowned.
I cleared my throat. “I think I had some trail mix with hazelnuts at work. You know how bad it can get when I eat those.”
“I’ll run you the bath after dinner.”
“You don’t need to, Na—”
“’Course I do.”
His kind smile made me want to scream at him, shout that I didn’t want him to run me the fucking bath and could he please, for once, not be so fucking nice and stop trying to fucking fix me all the time. Instead I said, “That would be lovely. Thanks, Nate.”
As I desperately tried to stop my mind from rushing back to the past and everything it represented, I wished my husband could prepare a container of sulfuric acid for me to slip into instead.
THEN
ABBY
SIMPLY RED’S STARS played softly in the background of the Kettle Club Tea & Coffee Shop, lending the place a slightly cooler atmosphere than it actually deserved. Tom sat at the old wooden bar, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of him, complete with marshmallows, whipped cream and chocolate drizzle. I watched him sink his spoon into the fluffy top layer, take a big scoop and put it in his mouth.
“Mmmm.” His eyes closed for a second. “Despite your dubious music choices, you make the best bloody hot chocolate in the world, Shabby. No wonder Stu asked you to run the place.”
“Thanks,” I said, thinking that at almost twenty-two, perfect beverage-making was about the only thing I could put on my anorexic-looking list of work experience. “You know, you’ll give yourself a heart attack with that stuff,” I added, then told myself to shush or I’d sound like our mother before my next birthday.
Before Tom could comment, the door opened and an elderly couple walked in. I watched as the man held the door for his companion before popping their umbrella into the copper stand. He slid out her chair, helped her sit down, and as he said something to her, she chuckled and covered her mouth with her pale, slim fingers.
I walked over to their table. “Good afternoon,” I said with a smile.
“Good afternoon to you, young lady.” The man’s blue eyes were bloodshot and watery, but surrounded by laughter lines that could tell a thousand tales.
“Can I get you some coffee, or tea?”
“Two cups of tea, please, love,” the woman answered softly as she set her purple knitted beret on the chair next to her and patted her gray curls back into place. “And two sticky buns if you have any. Our George gets grumpy if he doesn’t have his sticky bun.”
I grinned. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Two teas and sticky buns it is. Back in a sec.” As I turned I noticed how they’d reached for each other across the table, their worn fingers already entwined. Six months ago I would’ve demanded Tom pass me the sick bucket. Now all I saw was Liam and me in sixty years. It was crazily weird. Wonderfully, crazily weird. As if he’d found a treasure chest of feelings buried so deep in my heart, even I hadn’t known it was there.
After I’d brought the couple’s order over to them I returned to the bar from where Tom eyed me with a barely concealed grin as he licked his spoon. “I saw how you looked at them,” he said.
I popped some dirty cups in the sink. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right. You’re going all mushy... Anyway, how are things with Liam?”
“Great. He’s busy with work. The bank’s given him more responsibility already.”
“Has he told them about losing his license?”
“Yeah. He didn’t have much choice seeing as he’s supposed to travel to the different branches. God, he was so worried and—”
“No kidding. I still can’t believe how much over the speed limit he was, he—”
I waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, they didn’t give him that much grief in the end. Obviously it can’t happen again, but they still think he’s amazingly talented.” Ugh. I was gushing. I cleared my throat. “How’s Sophia?”
He waggled a finger. “Oh, no, don’t change the subject. Have you asked him yet?”
“No. I don’t want to spook him.”
“Pah, pah, pah.” Tom put up his hands. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“And you’re practically living together anyway. He hates his flatmates. He’ll never live with his parents again—”
“Not likely. I’ve never met such bigots. If you live south of the river they think you’re a foreigner.”
“Well, then,” Tom said. “It’s simple. Ask him to move in. Think of the money you’ll save.”
“Sounds like you want to move in with him.”
Tom flicked his spoon at me and I ducked, narrowly avoiding a well-aimed chocolaty milk blob that splattered on the floor. “I wish I could move out, believe me,” he said. “And as soon as I’ve finished this bloody economics degree, I will. Until then...”
“You get to live with the Wicked Witch of the East.” I grinned, wiping up his deliberate spill with a piece of kitchen paper.
Tom laughed. “Mum’s not that bad.”
“Not to you, she isn’t.” My smile disappeared. “She hates me.”
“Knock it off. She doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes she does.” I took a breath. “Because I remind her of Dad.”
Tom pulled a face. “You’ve said that before. But if it was true, she’d hate, uh, I mean she wouldn’t get along with me. I’m the guy. I must remind her way more of Dad than you do.”
“I don’t think gender has anything to do with it.” I paused. “I’m pretty sure I have his mannerisms, you know? Facial expressions, gestures, that kind of thing. At least that’s what Mum accused me of.” I plopped a tea bag into a mug. “But I’m not like him. I’ve never been unfaithful. I wouldn’t cheat on Liam. I don’t have a gambling habit. And I’d definitely never walk out on my partner.” I sighed. “I love Liam.”
He grinned. “Told you. You’re going all mushy.”
“I’m being serious. I mean I really love him. And it scares the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
I threw up my hands. “Why not? What if this is another relationship I mess up? I don’t want that to happen... I’d do anything for him, Tommy. Anything.”
Tom tut-tutted and rolled his eyes. “Except ask him to move in with you.”
I flicked him with my dishcloth. “We’ve not even been going out six months. Anyway... How is Sophia? And I mean really.” He pulled a face and I raised my eyebrows. “Arguing again?”
“Yeah.”
“So she’s still possessive, paranoid and, well, a bit odd?”
“Sounds about right.” Tom laughed.
I flung my hands into the air again. “Why do you bother? You hate conflict.”
“Well, that’s not surprising, is it?” Tom put a hand over his heart. “My poor soul’s been badly traumatized by all the fights you and Mum had.”
“And that’s exactly why I moved out. Five years later and I can still hear her shouting at me.” I nudged Tom with my elbow. “But Mum loves you, so her heart’s only half made of stone. Or maybe it’s two sizes too small.” Tom didn’t grin like I thought he would, so I added, “Like the Grinch who stole Christmas. Dad used to read us that book. Remember?”
He kept his eyes downcast and his shoulders hunched, looking lik
e an abandoned puppy standing in the rain waiting to be let inside. “I wish I remembered him,” he said quietly. “Properly, I mean. I wish we knew where he was.”
“I know. So do I.”
I shook my head as I recalled the day my father had walked out, which had been ordinary in every other way. Everything about that day was still vivid, almost as if someone had etched it all, right down to the tiniest detail, permanently in my mind. A definitive marker of the day everything changed.
It happened during the school holidays, a few weeks after Tom’s ninth—my tenth—birthday. It seemed “Upside Down” by Diana Ross was on a constant loop on the radio, and I knew all the words by heart, singing them as loud as I could at every opportunity.
“Stop singing that!” Tom had moaned the day before, flicking me on the back of the neck each time I broke into the chorus. But it was one of those earworms you couldn’t get out of your head. Even walking around the house, humming The Muppets tune didn’t help. Although—and this delighted me—I noticed Tom couldn’t stop humming that now, which was payback for flicking me in the first place.
The boy I liked sat on the park swings with me the day Dad left. Derek Stokes stood barely taller than me despite being almost two years older. But he had big, emerald green eyes and the cutest half-moon dimples I’d ever seen. I greedily snatched up any and every glance he threw my way, storing them so deep in my memory, I could still recall them over a decade later. Derek really did turn me inside out, and made all my feelings go around and around.
Even my recollection of the weather was clear. I could almost feel the drizzle that had softly fallen on my cheeks as Tom and I walked home from the park. See the billowing clouds that hung around in the air until the evening, when, finally, the sun broke through. Whenever that happened I thought it meant good things were on the way. After all, if the sun always won against the rain there had to be hope for everything else. There had to be.
The Neighbors Page 6
