So Now You're Back

by Heidi Rice

  Lizzie stopped, and Aldo bumped into her from behind.

  Trey sat on a bench in a courtyard garden visible through the glass. The sunlight made his short hair gleam, his head bent over the sheet of paper he held loosely.

  He looked so alone. And so exhausted. She pushed open the door to step into the paved garden.

  No drama. Only support.

  ‘Trey!’ Aldo gave a choked cry as he let go of Lizzie’s hand and rushed forward.

  Trey’s head lifted and he blinked slowly. ‘Lizzie? Aldo?’ He stood, and the paper drifted to the paving. ‘What are you …’

  Trey harrumphed as Aldo barrelled into him and wrapped his arms round Trey’s midriff, burying his face against his friend’s chest.

  ‘Your mum died,’ Aldo cried, all the tension and anxiety spilling out in a cascade of messy tears. ‘That’s so crap.’

  Trey’s hands came to rest gingerly on her brother’s shoulders. ‘Hey, buddy, don’t cry. It’s OK.’

  ‘We came to tell you we miss you,’ Aldo blurted out, then sniffled and burrowed into the hug, clinging on as if he was scared Trey would vanish. ‘We want you to come home. You have to come home.’

  Lizzie walked towards them.

  So much for no drama.

  Emotion closed her own throat, though, when Trey bent to touch his cheek to Aldo’s hair. His arms lowering to hug her brother back.

  ‘I’m sorry. He wanted to come and see you,’ she said. ‘We both did. If you want us to leave, we will. But we wanted to be sure you’re OK.’

  Trey’s eyes met hers and, to her astonishment, he smiled.

  ‘I am now’ was all he said.

  After Trey had handled some more paperwork and spoken to the hospice staff, they went to a McDonald’s near the tube station for dinner. Aldo managed to put away a Big Mac and a monster helping of French fries while keeping up a running commentary on every single thing he’d been doing while Trey had been absent, in intricate and unflagging detail. Lizzie noticed Trey hardly touched his quarter-pounder. She didn’t have much of an appetite for her filet-o-fish, either. But she welcomed Aldo’s inane chatter.

  The commentary continued all the way back to Holland Park tube station and the short walk to the house. You’d have thought Trey had been gone for six months, not a day and a half. But still he listened attentively, asking a string of pertinent questions, making Lizzie sure he welcomed the distraction, too.

  Aldo was so excited at having his idol back in situ that it took them forever to calm him down enough to finally get him into his pyjamas and off to bed.

  Lizzie waited in the kitchen while Trey went upstairs with Aldo to tuck him in and read him another chapter from The Goblet of Fire. A ritual she knew the two of them had begun when Trey had moved in twelve days ago.

  How could it have been less than two weeks since the morning she’d had that massive row with her mum about Trey coming to stay?

  Her phone buzzed on the countertop and she picked it up to see a text from Carly.

  Crashing epic party 2nite in Muswell Hill. Wanna cum?

  She texted back. No thx, busy.

  She’d rather gouge her eyes out than leave Trey this evening, especially to spend time with Carly.

  WTF? It’s going to be epic!! How lame r u!!!

  I’M BUSY.

  Doing wot? Sucking off Super Nanny?

  The crude suggestion was accompanied by a grinning devil emoji.

  Lizzie gritted her teeth as anger flared. Carly would never understand what a sweet and genuinely nice guy Trey was. Inked arse, dopey polo shirts and all. Because her BFF thought ‘sweet’ and ‘nice’ were for lame, uncool people who didn’t matter.

  To think she’d once bought into that bullshit, too, and sucked up to bitches like Carly.

  But the past week and a half had given her the major kick up the arse she needed. Hating yourself and the way you behaved wasn’t enough, you had to make the effort to change. And that meant ditching Carly.

  Why don’t u grow up? She tapped out the reply and sent it.

  The response came back moments later.

  FU loser. Your just a begfriend anyway.

  Lizzie switched off the phone and dumped it on the counter.

  Carly would slag her off to everyone now. A few weeks ago the thought of losing all her cool points would have paralysed her with fear. But she actually wasn’t that bothered. Turned out there were a lot worse things than losing all your cool points to a bunch of wankers.

  Hearing Trey’s heavy tread coming down the stairs, she busied herself pouring boiling water over the teabags she’d dumped into her mother’s treasured Clarice Cliff teapot.

  He entered the room and sat down heavily on her mum’s new sofa in the window alcove. He ran his fingers through his hair, sending the short strands into haphazard tufts, lines of fatigue bracketing his mouth.

  ‘Did Aldo go to sleep?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, he’s knackered.’ Trey sent her a weary half-smile. ‘So knackered, in fact, he nodded off during the bit where Cedric Diggory gets killed in the maze.’

  ‘You look pretty knackered yourself.’ She placed a couple of mugs on the countertop. ‘I’ve made a pot of tea, if you fancy a cup.’

  ‘Thanks, milk, no sugar.’

  She prepared their tea in silence. Realising how strange it was she didn’t even know how he took his tea, and yet he had come to mean so much to her.

  Sitting down on the sofa next to him, she handed him the cup. His fingers butted hers as he took it. ‘Listen, thanks for coming today.’ His thumb touched hers.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she murmured.

  He lifted the cup and took a swallow, then let out a breath. ‘I didn’t know how much I needed a friend there, until you two arrived.’

  She blew on her own tea, sipped it, watching him as he leaned back into the sofa’s comfy cushions. And shut his eyes.

  ‘Was it awful?’ she asked. Not knowing what else to say.

  He opened his eyes and watched her for a moment, the awareness pulsing between them. Then shook his head as he straightened to place his cup on the floor. ‘Actually, no, it wasn’t. It was kind of peaceful, but …’ He paused, his jaw tensing, as he rubbed open palms down his face. ‘It wasn’t how I thought it would be, either.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She could see guilt, and regret. She wondered what he could possibly have to feel guilty about.

  ‘I’ve wanted her to die for months now,’ he said so softly she almost couldn’t hear him. ‘Prayed for it to happen, because I can’t even remember what she used to be like, before she got sick. It’s like she hasn’t been my mum for a long time. But I thought I’d be glad when she’d gone. And I’m not. I’ve been such a selfish bastard.’

  She placed her hand on his leg, stroked the rigid muscles, the urge to comfort quick and instinctive. ‘It’s not selfish to want her suffering to stop.’

  He drew absent circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. ‘It would be nice if that was the reason. But it’s not. I wanted her to die so I could be free of her.’

  Lizzie touched his cheek and waited for his gaze to meet hers.

  She couldn’t take the grief away; she knew that. But she wanted to say something. Something that would comfort him. And make him realise he had nothing to feel guilty about.

  ‘We all say stupid things we don’t mean to people we love. I bet I’ve said a lot more shitty things to my mum than you ever said to yours.’

  A crooked smile crossed his lips and lifted some of the sadness. ‘I think you’re probably right about that.’

  ‘I know I am,’ she continued, heartened by his reaction. ‘And you don’t even want to know how many times I’ve wanted to kill Aldo.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not as if you actually wanted him to die,’ he countered.

  ‘Actually, I did, especially when he got poster paint on my new Herschel backpack,’ she continued, glad when his lips twitched. ‘So, basically, if you’re a selfi
sh bastard, I must be a complete heinous bitch.’

  ‘Don’t say that. You’re not a bitch. You’re smart and incredibly pretty and you’re fun to be around.’ The words spilled out with such honest conviction, she thought her heart would burst it was beating so hard. ‘I love hanging out with you. You make me feel normal.’

  Sympathy and tenderness thudded against her ribcage. ‘Then you have to believe me when I say, you’re all that stuff and a lot more. No way are you a selfish bastard, Trey. Because I used to go out with a real selfish bastard and I’m now an expert at spotting the difference.’

  ‘You think I’m incredibly pretty?’ he said.

  ‘I think you’re gorgeous, right down to that low-rent tattoo on your arse.’

  ‘It’s not on my arse,’ he corrected. ‘It’s on the base of my spine.’

  ‘Did you have to drop your pants to get it done?’

  The smile twitched. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Then it’s on your arse, mate.’

  He chuckled, then tilted his head to rest his forehead against hers. His thumbs caressed her neck. ‘I want to kiss you so bad right now.’

  ‘Then do.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t. It would be taking advantage of you.’

  She framed his face with her hands, drew his mouth to hers. ‘Then I guess I’ll have to take advantage of you.’

  She teased his lips, tasting the sadness, and the desperation, beneath the heat. His tongue met hers, their mutual hunger driving a connection that felt real and solid and significant as they sank into the kiss.

  His breathing had become slow and sluggish when they finally parted.

  ‘I’m shattered,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want to be alone.’

  ‘Then stay here. And I’ll stay with you.’

  He settled his long body on the sofa, and she tucked one of the throw pillows under his head. But when she tried to rise, he caught her wrist. ‘Could I hold you? I won’t try anything, I promise.’

  She’d have loved him to try something. But that really would be taking advantage of him. So she nodded and lifted his arm, snuggling under it. He shifted onto his side, to give her more space, as they cuddled together. Her head nestled on his collarbone, his arms secure around her back.

  She could feel the steady pump of his heart next to her ear as his breathing evened out. She inhaled the teasing scent of soap and laundry detergent, and the slightly sickly scent of flowers and air freshener, the smell of death that still clung to him.

  But as she snuggled against him, she knew she’d never felt more safe, or more alive, in her whole life.

  Chapter 21

  ‘I’m still not sure about this, Luke. Seeing you and me together is going to be enough of a shock for Lizzie without us turning up two days early.’

  Luke hauled their suitcases out of the back of the cab and handed the driver a ten-quid tip. Halle stood on the pavement, chewing her bottom lip.

  Even jet-lagged and tired and extremely stressed, she looked adorable. Adorable enough to have him clamping down on his frustration. Again.

  ‘We agreed we needed to come here and tell Lizzie what’s been going on together.’ He was holding firm on that no matter how many times he had to talk her down off the ledge. ‘The good news is at least your house hasn’t burned to the ground,’ he said, struggling to lighten the mood.

  The huge Georgian pile, five storeys of ornate white plaster, looked impressive even for Notting Hill. But he refused to be intimidated by it. After eight hours on the red-eye and having to route through Chicago to get here, he was more than keyed up enough already. The thought of seeing Lizzie and meeting Halle’s son, Aldo, for the first time was nerve-racking enough without him letting Halle’s nerves get to him, too.

  They’d spent the past thirty-two hours on a nightmare journey from the resort with Halle insisting on discussing every nuance of this meeting in exhaustive detail. All the things he could say, and all the things he couldn’t. And he’d tried really hard not to take her doubts personally.

  Whatever way you looked at it, this was a huge step, in all their lives. A huge step that he really didn’t want to fuck up. Because he’d come to a few momentous decisions himself—ever since she’d sprung her surprise departure plan on him. And the vague feeling of melancholy that had been bothering him ever since he had woken up to find her gone had turned into a gaping wound right in the middle of his chest.

  He’d convinced himself a long time ago he wasn’t into relationships. That being Lizzie’s dad was the only emotional connection he was capable of. But he’d known in that moment it wasn’t true, or not true any more, because the thought of Halle leaving that evening without him had sent him into a tailspin of stunned horror.

  He’d finally been forced to acknowledge that despite all the challenges, despite all the tough conversations, the rows and recriminations—and even that whiplash-inducing crack on the cheek—being with her had made him feel more alive, more connected than he had since he’d run away.

  She’d challenged him and excited him, frustrated him and driven him mad with lust, but most of all she’d made him realise all the things that had been missing in his life since he’d lost her.

  Consequently, he’d spent the whole of the damn red-eye wide awake, considering what his life could be like with Halle back in it. Not just as the mother of his child. Not just as a friend or a fuck buddy. But as more than that.

  And the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d realised how important it was not to bugger up this next step. His growing realisation that Halle seemed convinced he was going to do exactly that wasn’t doing much to bolster his confidence.

  ‘What are you so scared of, Hal?’

  She stared at him blankly, and he wondered if she was going to deny it. But then she sighed. ‘Listen, Luke, are you sure this is such a good idea? Springing this on Lizzie? She’ll still be in bed. Why don’t I have a quick chat with her when she wakes up? Just to smooth things over, prepare her. And then, if everything’s OK, I can give you a call and we could come and meet you somewhere. Later.’

  He bit down on the new surge of frustration. And the spike of fear. Was this really about Lizzie? Or was she just trying to get rid of him?

  ‘I live in Paris, where exactly am I supposed to be while you’re preparing her to see me?’ he said, not managing to keep the edge out of his voice.

  ‘I could book you a hotel suite,’ she said, far too helpfully for her not to have planned the suggestion ahead of time.

  ‘That’s not the point and you know it,’ he said, his temper snapping. ‘We had an agreement. If you want to back out of it, I want to know why.’

  ‘Could you keep your voice down?’ She glanced at the house.

  OK, that did it.

  He grasped her arm, and her gaze shot back to his. ‘Halle, what’s really going on here?’

  Had he been totally kidding himself? He needed to know if he had any chance with her, before he risked letting her see how much this meant to him, because apparently there was still enough of that screwed-up kid inside him to be scared to death he’d already buggered this up without intending to.

  ‘What’s really going on is …’ Halle tugged her arm out of his grasp. ‘She’s not my only child.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘I don’t want you to meet Aldo. Not like this.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’

  ‘He wants a father, Luke, desperately.’ She struggled to explain. ‘Whenever Lizzie was in Paris with you, he would ask about you incessantly. Does Lizzie’s daddy play football? What kind of car does Lizzie’s daddy drive? He’s always wanted to meet you. But he’s never had to see you with Lizzie. He’s never had to have his face rubbed in the fact that you’re her father and not his. It’s going to be agonising for him, seeing you two together and knowing he doesn’t have what Lizzie has.’

  Instead of looking irritated or defensive, as she would have expected, Luke laughed. He grasped her upper arms, the look on
his face a picture of relief. ‘Seriously, Halle, is that all?’

  ‘What do you mean, is that all? It’s a huge deal for him, he’s only ten and—’

  ‘And I’m not Claudio,’ he interrupted. ‘Don’t you think I want to meet him, too? I know it’s not going to be easy. That we’ll have to get to know each other first. And you’re right, I’m not his dad. But I would never try to make him feel less because he’s not my kid. And the very last thing I would want to do is hurt him.’

  ‘I know that, but—’

  ‘You know what your problem is?’ Luke interrupted again.

  ‘No, do tell me,’ she said, not making any effort to hide her irritation with his casual attitude. This was not a joke. She’d been agonising over this for hours—ever since she’d been manoeuvred into agreeing to this meeting.

  And OK, maybe it wasn’t all about Aldo. Maybe she was ever so slightly terrified at the prospect of seeing Luke bonding with Lizzie and Aldo, and letting those unrealistic expectations that had been dogging her all through the journey home sprint right out of control.

  ‘You need to know you can’t control everything,’ he said.

  ‘I know that,’ she snapped. ‘I wouldn’t have had to spend two weeks in Tennessee with you if I could.’

  ‘And that didn’t turn out so bad, now did it?’ He gave her a gentle shake, the approval in his eyes, with that flicker of heat that was never far behind, making her insides churn and melt at the same time. Which was not good.

  You see, this is exactly why you need to be establishing distance, and not playing happy families.

  ‘What’s your point?’ she added, feeling her control, the control she’d worked so hard to build after Luke had left, slipping through her fingers.

  ‘That sometimes you have to trust in people,’ he said. ‘And, more important, you have to trust in yourself. You’re a terrific mum, but you can’t fix everything. Life is like baking. It’s not a precise science. Sometimes you don’t prove the dough quite long enough the second time around and your fancy European novelty bread doesn’t turn out how you planned. But it could still be edible. In fact, it might even be better that way.’