The girls start pulling funny faces and posing. The people skating past looks over and smile. It’s obvious they find them adorable. Any breathing being would. I wonder if to anyone else we look like a normal family, me being the mum. Nah, I’m sure they can sniff out my Primark leopard print coat from a mile off. I’ve got so used to little kids wearing designers next to my high street, I barely notice anymore.
Barclay skates over and takes my phone from me. You can tell he’s not used to people saying no to him.
‘Let me take some of you and the girls,’ he offers with a kind smile. His dark eyes are still cautious around me, but I appreciate him trying.
‘Really?’ I can’t help but blush. I suppose he wants them to have some to remember me by. ‘Okay.’
Families never want me in the pictures. They like to pretend I don’t exist in real life.
I skate over to the girls and teach them how to do Madonna’s vogue. They giggle hysterically.
‘Who’s Madonna?’ Jessica giggles.
Barclay raises an eyebrow over the phone, and we share a secret smile. Way to make us feel ancient.
‘An amazing singer. She had this one song...’ I can’t help myself, knowing it’ll wind Barclay up, ‘It went, ‘like a viiiirrrgin.’
Barclay pulls the camera from his face sharpish, his face like thunder. ‘Ruby!’
I can’t help it. I just love annoying him. It’s too easy.
‘Like a viiiiirrrgin,’ Lottie sings back, giggling. ‘Wait, what’s a virgin?’
He glares at me. ‘Just someone that hasn’t done something before,’ he explains quickly.
Jessica giggles, her hand up to her mouth. ‘Before today I was a skating virgin!’ she shouts for everyone to hear.
‘Sssh!’ we both hiss.
I meet his eyes and we both crack up laughing, but I want to poke the bear. He’s too easy to wind up.
‘Excuse me,’ he asks, flagging down another skater. ‘Do you mind taking one of all of us?’
He wants one of all of us? Why? I don’t get it. He’s already got some of me and the girls.
‘Yay!’ the girls sing, cuddling up to me.
He skates up to us effortlessly, puts one hand on my lower back and the other around the girls. My skin tingles from his touch.
‘Cheese!’ we all sing, for one split second the picture perfect family.
I know I should be happy, but I can’t help but let the anguish creep in. He only wants a picture to remember me by. He knows soon enough I’ll be gone. Knows he can tolerate me and any of the weird sexual tension between us until then.
The thought of leaving these girls has my heart clenching so tight it feels as if I can’t breathe. What the hell am I doing to myself?
Chapter 30
Ruby
We both put them to bed that evening, the girls completely shattered from the fun of the afternoon. They would have been happy with just ice skating, but Barclay said we should get the bus to a cafe he knows that does the best hot chocolate in London. The girls were over the moon to go on a regular bus. It’s as if Barclay forgot they’ve had a far more sheltered life than most kids their age.
Then he insisted on going to Harrods, regardless of us going recently. They had so much fun playing with all the toys, then watching all the pets get pampered on the top floor. Except it backfired when they asked for a puppy. Barclay said a very firm no. Lottie’s asked me to work on him.
We’re just walking down the stairs from their bedrooms when Barclay starts fidgeting.
‘Do you fancy watching a film?’ he asks, almost shyly, his hands in his jean pockets.
He seems so awkward that I chuckle. So awkward that I can’t let him down and make my excuses. It would just be cruel.
‘Yeah, go on then. But only if it can be a Christmas movie.’
He rolls his eyes but graces me with one of those rare smiles. ‘Jesus, what is it with you and Christmas?’
I shrug, unable to hide my Christmas cheer.
‘It’s just my favourite time of the year.’ He’s such a scrooge.
He smiles, his eyes playful. ‘You’re like a little elf.’
I stop at the bottom of the stairs and turn to stare up at him.
‘Are you calling me short?’ I hate that I have to look up to ask him.
He towers over me. ‘Of course not. It’s your pointy ears you have to worry about.’
I smile, shoving him in the chest like a teenager at school. He brings out the real idiot in me.
‘Just for that, I get to choose the snacks too.’
I run ahead into the kitchen, far too excited for someone who reasoned with herself earlier that I was only a plaything to him. But when he looks at me like that, well, it’s like he casts a spell over me. I can’t physically say no.
I brew the kettle, deciding to make us hot chocolates. One can never have too much in December. Who says you’re ever too old for them? They always remind me of my dad. He served nothing but hot chocolate as soon as it was December and Mum carried on the tradition after he’d died. Drinking it always makes me feel closer to him.
I rummage through the cupboards, hating how I don’t know where anything is. I finally find some popcorn which I shove in the microwave. I finish our hot chocolates with some Baileys and marshmallows.
I put everything onto a tray and bring it into the living room. Going into this room always feels like I’m sneaking into my parents’ room. So forbidden.
He raises his eyebrow. ‘Hot chocolate again. Really?’
I smile, secretly loving it when he teases me. ‘Hey, it has Baileys in it. Totally a grown-up drink.’
He smiles, pointing over at the huge collection of DVD’s hidden behind a cabinet.
‘Your choice.’
‘Wow, you know you can stream stuff nowadays, right?’ I chuckle. He’s so old school.
‘Hey, I’m not that old! I just like having the DVD’s.’
‘Control freak,’ I mutter under my breath. I realise I’m right when I see they’re alphabetised.
‘What was that?’ he asks, a cheeky smile on his face.
‘Oh, nothing, Mr Rothchester,’ I joke back. ‘How old are you anyway?’
‘I’m forty three.’
Shit, I’d never have guessed that old. Thirteen years older than me. Another reason we’d never work.
‘So, what do you fancy?’ he asks, his eyes wandering down to my lips.
Jesus, don’t ask, Barclay, don’t ask. Nope, I’m not letting that happen again. I’m only here because I have nothing better to do on a Saturday night. Not because I have complicated feelings for him, at all.
I browse the titles. There’s a lot of romantic comedies here that must have been his wife’s. I can imagine them snuggled up in here. He must have felt such a shock of loneliness when she died. No wonder he busies himself with work.
‘What about Home Alone?’ It’s the least romantic film I can think of. I don’t want him getting any ideas.
‘Home Alone?’ He laughs, his eyebrows almost touching his hair line. ‘Are you serious? You spend all day with kids and then you want to watch a kid’s film in your spare time?’
I shake my head. ‘Home Alone is not a kids movie. Trust me. It’s all about bad guys breaking into a kid’s house. I’ve learnt the hard way that it gives little kids nightmares.’ I remember the boys being up all night, convinced someone was coming for them.
I’m always too busy wondering what Macaulay Culkin’s dad did to be able to afford that giant house.
‘Okay.’ He shrugs taking it out of its case and slotting it into the DVD player.
I grab my hot chocolate and snuggle into the enormous sofa. I can feel the tension radiating between us, but both of us ignore it. He sits next to me taking a sip of his drink.
‘Shit, Ruby, this is strong!’ he exclaims, almost choking on it. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’
I snort. Real attractive, Ruby. ‘You wish. Sounds like you’d be a cheap date
if I did.’
He grins back. I tear my eyes away from him, forcing myself to focus on the film and not his beautiful face.
As I hoped he joins me in laughing over the hilarious stunts little Macaulay Culkin pulls on these guys. Seems he does have a sense of humour.
‘How old were you when you first watched this?’ he asks me towards the end.
‘I was eight,’ I answer immediately, remembering it well.
‘Good memory,’ he nods on a pout, impressed. He seems to pout whenever he’s pleased by something. Not that I’m looking at his lips. No way.
My heart aches at the memory of me and my mum laughing and crying through it.
‘I only remember because it was the first Christmas after my dad died.’
His face falls, his jaw going slack. ‘Shit, sorry I didn’t know you’d lost your dad young.’
I shrug. ‘Yeah.’ My throat clogs whenever I think of him. ‘Well, anyway it was the first time me and my mum truly laughed after he’d died. We needed it; you know?’
He nods in silence. Of all people he’d know, of course. Not that he laughs much, ever. I’d bet he’s laughed more, at me, in the last few weeks than he has in the last few years.
‘That’s sort of why I wanted you to come today. To remember that having fun isn’t betraying the memory of Claire,’ I admit shyly.
‘And I did.’ He sighs, as he always does when I’m around and I force him to think. ‘If I’m honest, the real reason I was worried about going was that it was one of the things me and Claire talked about when she was pregnant with Charlotte. She’d always had this vision of the four of us ice skating when the girls were old enough. But then... well, you know the rest.’ He looks into his lap, unable to meet my eyes.
‘I’m so sorry.’ I rest my arm on his bicep. The slut in me wants to gasp at how defined it is. ‘I know all of this is hard for you, but... well, even though my dad passed early December we still had a great Christmas. Well, the first one was a struggle, admittedly. But the good thing was that my mum kept his memory alive in her stories.’
He nods, as if understanding what I’ve been trying to do. Encouraging him to keep Claire alive too.
‘I was actually wondering if you had anymore spare photos of Claire and the girls?’
‘Why?’ he asks suspiciously. Damn it, every time I feel I’m getting somewhere I push him too far and he creeps back into his shell again.
‘Remember I told you about the Christmas tree baubles that you can put photos in?’ He hasn’t mentioned it since so I’m assuming, he’s forgotten. ‘I think the girls would love a picture of them with their mummy on the tree. Something to see every year they get the decorations down.’ Something they’ll still get out once I’m long gone.
He sighs, running his hands through his hair. ‘I suppose it makes sense now.’ I frown, confused. ‘I mean, why you care so much. You’ve been there.’
I nod. ‘It’s still different.’ I smile at him. The same sad smile that I used to hate receiving whenever anyone would ask how I was doing in school.
‘What about your mum? Doesn’t she miss you? Doing this job, you mustn’t get to see her much.’
‘Actually, she passed the day after I turned eighteen.’
His face falls. ‘Jesus, Ruby. How are you so happy all the time when you’ve been through so much tragedy?’
I shrug. ‘I guess I just know they’d hate to see me waste my life moping. I’m still here so I kind of have to live for them, you know?’
He chews on his lips, seeming thoughtful. ‘I’m starting to,’ he admits.
He stares at me and, without saying a word, he pours his heart out to me. I feel every ounce of the pain he experienced, and he still holds in his heart every day. I want to heal him. I want to carry some small part of the pain for him, but I know that I can’t. I shouldn’t.
I’m his employee and I’m fired. I’ll be gone in a matter of days. Although I’ve still delayed calling the agency; some small part of me clinging onto the hope that he’ll ask me to stay.
‘You know, it’s funny,’ he says with a bashful smile. ‘I’ve ended up liking you far more than I originally planned.’
That’s probably the nicest thing he’s ever said to me. Which should be weird in itself.
‘It just took you to fire me for you to realise it,’ I say with a smile. He smiles back but doesn’t ask me to stay.
‘I should get to bed.’ I jump up, collecting the mugs and popcorn bowl, despite us not having finished the movie. I need to get away from him before I do something stupid.
‘Ruby?’
I turn, almost at the door.
‘Yes?’ My voice sounds hopeful. Pathetic that I’m still hoping he ask me to stay.
‘Thank you. For today.’ He smiles wistfully.
I smile back, feeling the undeniable pull towards him. I want nothing more than to wrap him in my arms and cuddle away the pain. God, I’m in trouble. I need to get away from him before I start tearing up.
‘Actually,’ he begins, looking hopeful. Oh God, don’t give me the hopeful eyes. I can’t cope.
‘Yes?’ I ask far too eagerly. Keep it together, Ruby. He’s probably just asking you to load the dishwasher.
‘I’ll walk you to your door.’
I laugh. ‘In case the boogie man jumps out on the way downstairs?’
He grins back, his eyes alight with mischief. ‘You can never be too careful.’
Oh Jesus, what are we doing? Why do I insist on walking this dangerous line with him when I know it’s a bad idea? I’m acting like a dumbass. But damn, when he gets that mischievous look, I’ll do just about anything.
Chapter 31
Ruby
I dump the stuff in the kitchen. Now is not the time to clean. We walk down to my room, our hands so close every few seconds our knuckles brush each other. I feel like an inexperienced teenager. My pulse is quickening, wondering if he’d dare kiss me again. I hope so. I shouldn’t but I do.
I don’t know why, but this man is quickly becoming irresistible to me. I mean, I know why. He’s fucking gorgeous, but so emotionally unavailable. Not my usual type at all. Not that I really have a type. I never have time to date. He’s the one man I definitely shouldn’t want, but do so badly, it hurts.
I open my door, close to him in the narrow corridor. The fairy lights from the playroom twinkle a romantic glow over us.
‘This is me.’ I grin, stupidly acting like he’s just walked me home from a date.
I look up at him, his dark eyes brooding down at me from the shadows.
His chest heaves. My chest heaves. I can feel my nipples straining against my bra. No nipples, we are not getting some.
‘Goodnight then,’ he says, his voice husky, his pupils dilated.
I gulp. Shit, it’s going to happen again. Why is it going to happen again? Stop it, Ruby. Stop it.
‘Goodnight.’
I should go into my room. Right now. Listen to the sensible part of my brain.
Only... in a crazed moment of confidence I go up on my tip toes and peck him a quick kiss beside his mouth. Not his cheek, not his mouth, more the corner of his lips. It’s not well thought out and the minute I do it I regret it, feeling like I’ve crossed a line.
Slutty Ruby. Bad, slutty Ruby.
My tip toes start retracting, dread and embarrassment weighing them down, when he grabs my face with both of his hands. He plunges his lips onto mine and pushes me back into my door. I almost fall flat on my back from the impact, but he catches me, his hands securing me, holding me tight against him.
I kiss him back with everything I’ve got, pouring all my muddled feelings into this one kiss. If this is all I ever get, I want him to remember it. To know how I feel before I go, even if I can’t voice it in words. My body is willing to help bridge the gap of communication.
He pushes me into the room, kicking the door shut behind us. His hands travel down my spine, causing every vertebra to shiver, until they’re cuppi
ng my arse and I’m moaning into him. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so into it.
I unbutton two shirt buttons and press my hand in to feel his chest. His skin is hot, like I’ve imagined, peppered with the briefest of hair. I want to wrap my whole body around him just so I can feel his warmth on me.
One of his hands travels round to cup my breast through my black tank top. It feels tiny in his enormous hand. I groan again despite myself. I’m tempted to strip myself naked to let him know exactly where I want this to lead, but my thoughts are broken by him speaking.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ he says during urgent kisses that line down my neck.
I groan, my whole body tingling. ‘Please, Barclay, for once just shut up, will you?’
He chuckles against my throat. I grab the bottom of my vest top and tug it over my head. His eyes widen, taking in the view. I don’t stop for a second. I know if I do one of us will realise what a giant mistake this is.
Instead we both fumble to tear off his shirt. As soon as his skin is released, I bury myself into him. I want to feel the heat of him pressed up against my nipples. He quickly unclasps my bra, allowing me to finally feel him skin to skin. I haven’t got the largest boobs, but what I have is at least pert.
I cuddle myself to him, sliding my palms up and down his bare muscled back. I bet if I looked right now, he’d have the same sexy back of Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. His whole body is beautiful. A work of art.
I lean back for him to kiss me again, but he’s already pushing us back towards my bed. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, his erection pressing against my stomach. It feels better than I’ve ever felt anything before. Not that previous boyfriends had even a smidgen of Barclay’s sex appeal. Or size for that matter.
I tug on my jeggings and drag them down my legs while Barclay does the same with his jeans. I shamelessly reach into his boxer shorts and feel the beautiful soft length of him. Damn, he’s big; I knew he had big dick energy. I tug off his boxers with the heels of my feet.
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