by Annie Dyer
“So, what you’re saying is that if you don’t have her, you’re not going to settle with anyone else?”
“Yes.” I thought for a second. “No. If it doesn’t work out this time, if she ghosts me again then I will make myself move on. She’s told me she needs to explain why she stopped contact with me, but not yet.”
Nick nodded. “I get that. It must be something big.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I think it’s going to be something that blows my mind.” I felt my stomach churn, the slight echo of anxiety in my chest. I had my suspicions, but that was all they were. There was no use in thinking about it until she told me, otherwise I’d just torment myself. “Fancy a beer?”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “Why not?”
Chapter Ten
Claire
“He should probably be a model,” Katie said, her eyes flickering over to her – our – bodyguard, Denico. “With that body and that bone structure he’d make a killing on the catwalk. Maybe I could see if he’s interested. I could link him up with my agent.”
We were sitting outside a bar next to the river, still in Oxford, although the plethora of shopping bags suggested we’d spent a weekend in Manhattan. Katie had categorically said she didn’t want to go back to her home after it had been raided and she needed more clothes than what she’d originally packed, so we’d taken the opportunity to ditch the O’Hara brothers and bruise the plastic, eventually ending up needing something fizzy and alcoholic. “I’m pretty sure given what his careers included so far, he’d prefer to stay under the radar.” She was right, Denico was gorgeous and rather than not be noticed he seemed to prefer to hide in plain sight, several girls already eyeing him up as he sat a few feet away, checking his phone and drinking a juice.
Katie sighed. “Probably. How did I end up married to a man who looked nothing like Denico?”
Or Nick, I thought, having seen the way she’d looked at him a couple of time this morning. “How did you end up married to a man who was shorter than you and resembles a pit bull chewing a wasps’ nest with the wasps still in it?”
Katie topped up our glasses from the bottle of prosecco we’d ordered and smiled thoughtfully. “I honestly don’t know. Well, I’m starting to, I guess.”
The sun was warm on my face and the alcohol had made me drowsy. I wanted to make the most of the day as tomorrow I’d be back in London, needing to tie up a few lose ends on other files and speak to my colleagues who would be taking on some of the workload. Then I’d come back here, to talk Katie through the mediation and set out our battle plan. My adrenaline simmered at the thought, there was very little I enjoyed more than the thrill of the fight, trying to get what I believed my client was entitled to. “Talk me through meeting him.”
“He was charming and intelligent. We met at a ball, a charity fundraiser where the seats cost stupid amounts and you got the opportunity to place bids for far more money than you’d spend on things like spa days and experiences. We were sat next to each other. He was charming and polite and asked me questions about me, not about my job or who I’d met, like so many other men,” she said as my glass of fizz went down all too easily. “I’d just split from a boyfriend who’d been obsessed with himself and I’d been nothing more than a status symbol hanging off his arm, so my confidence was low. I was easy pickings.”
“What happened after?”
“He didn’t ask for my number and I didn’t really think much else about him. He was older than me, smaller and I didn’t really know who he was. Two weeks later I bumped into him at the opening of a restaurant in Highbury and he mentioned it had been fate that had brought us back together and asked if he could take me out. Our first date was dinner in Paris. We flew there and back in an evening,” she said, a wry smile manipulating her lips.
“When did you fall in love with him?” I said, needing to know the answer. I had never felt the feelings I had for Killian for anyone else. I thought myself in love with him, but part of me reasoned that it was just puppy love that had never gone away as I’d never let myself get so involved with anyone else. Killian had been the ember that I’d never let lose its glow.
Katie gestured to the waiter for another bottle. “I didn’t. He just made me think I did. I can see that now.”
“How?”
She gave a sarcastic laugh. “He groomed me. I was charmed by him; he was attentive and interested; he brought me gifts that were thoughtful and sent me flowers. He surprised me with dates, taking me to interesting places and restaurants that weren’t pretentious or somewhere just to be seen. I spent more and more of my time with him, and less with anyone else. I didn’t listen to what my friends were saying, that they’d heard he had a temper, that he was involved with criminal activity and organised crime. I chose to believe the Dean Lacey he showed me and when he proposed after just a few months it was too easy to say yes. He promised me time and funding for my charities and a chance to step away from the glare of the media so I could put my time into something good. And then he started to change, but I had no one else. My friends were pissed off with me because I’d ignored them and he’d spent time telling me how my friends weren’t good enough, they were jealous, that I had him now… all the shit you’d associate with a manipulative, controlling abuser. But you don’t see it when you’re with them.”
“Do you think he loved you?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s capable of feeling love so probably no. I was useful for him and easy to manipulate into the sort of relationship that he wanted. I was naïve and relatively innocent. What about you? Have you ever been in love?”
I remembered walking through Oxford, hand in hand, hoping no one who knew my brothers would see us; I remembered talking until it was dawn, the urge to touch him almost overwhelming in its strength; I remembered waking up with him curled around me, his arms encasing me and never having felt so safe. He made my heart beat and my lungs expand and when I sent him away I think I failed to live.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been in love.”
“With Killian?”
“Yes,” I said. I still am. Then I looked at her as she topped up her glass. “You’re drinking. But…”
She took a large drink, clearly almost half of the glass. “I’m not pregnant. My period started yesterday evening.”
“Are you sure it’s your period?”
She nodded. “I’m pretty sure. I’m seeing the doctor tomorrow and yeah, I know it might be a miscarriage but I could’ve missed a period with stress. I’ve never been hugely regular.”
“You’re not in any pain?”
“No more so than I’d be normally.” Her expression was blank, probably one she’d learnt through walking catwalks and poising in front of cameras.
“How does that make you feel?” I felt the ache that had never gone away more acutely in the current warmth of the sun.
“Sad. Relieved. Desperate and worried and happy. Relieved more than anything. If I had been pregnant I’d have to prove it was his, otherwise he’d have accused me of cheating. And then he’d have had another way to control me for the next eighteen years. I only hope I get another chance to be a mum,” she said, pulling her hair back from her face. “But that requires meeting someone who’s dad material.”
I had a feeling she’d already done that but now wasn’t the right time to add any more complexity to what was already going on. “I’m pretty sure it will happen for you, Katie. We just need to get rid of the blackhole who’s trying to take away all the light.”
“I agree. And I’m hopeful. I know not all men are like Dean Lacey. There are a lot of good people and I need to be thankful for them.” Her eyes were piercing as she looked at me, as if she could see into my thoughts with perfect clarity. “Tell me about Killian? Why aren’t you married with a bunch of cute kids by now?”
I drank my prosecco while my heart shattered. “We were young. I was in my first year at Oxford University and he was in his last and my brothe
r Max’s best friend. I’d met him loads before as he’d spent time at the big house during the holidays and he’d always been gorgeous but he was Max’s friend so that was that. Then during my first week he’d shown me round and it went from there. We just didn’t tell anyone because we thought Max wouldn’t be happy. We were wrong on that score, but I think we liked the secrecy.”
“So why did you split?”
I saw a child with my hair and lips and Killian’s eyes; my quickness and Killian’s strength and I bit back tears that promised to fall like their own Niagara. “I can’t tell you until I tell Killian. I ghosted him because something happened and he still doesn’t know.”
Katie topped up my glass from the bottle the waiter had deposited. “I think I know why. Your lawyer face hasn’t been available since we got here and you are very readable.”
“I thought models didn’t understand expressions unless they were directed by a photographer,” I said, wanting to needle her to distract myself. “I’m pretty sure my poker face is fixed.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, doll, but when you see Killian your face just says ‘take me now’. How was the sex?”
I laughed loudly, probably slightly over the top. “Really?”
“Really. Claire, I need normal conversations. I haven’t had a proper girl friend since I started dating Dean, and even then, my friends were often there because they needed something from me rather than simply wanting to just be there.”
There was a pain there that I recognised. I’d been lucky: I had two sisters who I got along with no matter what and a step mother who had been our saviour. I never lacked for friends or people to keep me grounded.
“He was my first and he spoilt me for anyone else. And that’s been the problem. We were good together, scarily so. He’d slept around a lot at college – and I’m not judging because my brothers were manwhores – but when we were together there was no one else,” I said. “For either of us.”
“And there hasn’t been since,” she said with a slight chuckle.
I shook my head. “No. I’ve had relationships since. I imagine he has too.”
She held my eyes with hers as she denied my words. “You might’ve dated and slept with other people, both of you, but have you seriously been involved with anyone? As in had feelings, not just repeated sex?”
“No,” I said, confessing almost all to my client which was wrong but right now, it didn’t matter. Maybe we were what each other needed. “I haven’t let myself.”
“Really?” She said as the waiter arrived at our table. “Shall we have a couple of cocktails? That prosecco’s not going to last much longer.”
I glanced at Denico who was still seemingly engrossed in his phone. I had no doubt that he was assessing who was coming near us or if anyone looked like a threat, but to be honest, I didn’t think there would be any reason to be worried right now. Dean Lacey would take a few days to get enough information on me to work out where his wife might be or how best to try to intimidate us, if that was what he chose to do. “I’ll have a Long Island Iced tea,” I said, knowing that it was only mid-afternoon and I had an evening and the night to sleep off any after-effects.
“Make mine a Negroni,” Katie said, clearly going for the hard stuff.
I’d fall over on more than two of those.
“Why haven’t you let yourself?”
“Have you just taken on the occupation of my therapist or something?” I muttered. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. When I didn’t get in touch with Killian I know it was like sticking a knife in him and twisting it. I didn’t want to to be responsible for that again. I don’t want to be responsible for that again.”
“How was it for you when that happened?”
“You really are trying to play therapist, aren’t you?” I said, making her laugh. “The same. I hurt myself.”
“So, go back and try again. It’s not just you who looks at him a certain way. It’s him too. He doesn’t take – not his eyes because he’s not being creepy – his awareness from you. How your brothers didn’t work it out is beyond me.”
“Because they’re my brothers. No other explanation needed.”
Denico probably hadn’t signed up for driving two drunk girls back from Oxford, but he had the good grace to look like he was enjoying our clearly formidable conversation and appearance that could not be called dishevelled, if you were kind.
Katie headed straight for her room, looking like she needed at least five weeks’ worth of sleep, leaving me to stumble out of the car and debate the walk back to the house.
“How was Oxford?” The low voice made me jump; the appearance of Killian surprising in the dusky evening light. “Judging by the number of bags by the door it looks successful.”
I smiled, resisting the overwhelming need to throw my arms around him and press myself close to his muscle and heat. “It was good. Can you give me a lift carrying them back?” We were still in the cottage; the low muttering of the twins and Nick audible through the heavy walls.
He materialised from the shadows: six feet three of taut muscle and sinew, dirty blonde hair and a thickening beard that would feel good between my legs. Sweatpants hung low, a tight t-shirt highlight every dip and valley. “No, we’re going back to your parents, happy-girl.”
I remembered the first time he’d called me that, after an informal law social when Max had been too busy to meet me so Killian had been his replacement. I’d talked and talked, recounting the whole evening, because when I was drunk I’d chat happily, so I’d been happy girl. “Do we have to walk?”
“We’re walking. Let’s leave Nick and Katie to it.” He took the bags from me and headed to the door, somehow managing to open it without dropping my shopping.
“Nick and Katie to what?” I said, smiling purposefully.
His eyes rolled dramatically. “Yeah, I know. Let’s get you home. Otherwise you’ll fall asleep on the sofa and no one will be able to move you for three days.”
“Slight exaggeration, K,” I said. “The last time I did that, I remember you carrying me up to my room and sleeping on the sofa. The love was still there, hey?”
“Do I need to carry you now?” he said, no denial.
“I can manage.” I followed him outside into the evening sunshine, the last low calls of the swallows breaking the silence. “Shall we sit for a while? It isn’t often we have nights as warm and still as this.”
He studied me for a moment and then nodded, leading us to an old bench Max and Jackson had made as something to do one summer. We sat there in silence, neither knowing what to say or to confess, the bench groaning under mainly Killian’s weight.
I felt his eyes on my skin, caressing every inch and as powerful as his hands would have been. The dying sun had turned the sky shades of red and orange, an artist’s palate spilt across the sky.
“What are we doing, K?” I said, the wine and spirits no longer holding my tongue.
“Honestly? I don’t know. What I get though, is that this is the beginning of something and not the conclusion.” He stood up and went to the window, looking out over the fields. “Or I that’s what I want it to be.”
He was tense, his shoulders held tightly and I itched to put my hands on them and rub the tension away, but even after yesterday evening when we’d eaten together and kissed it didn’t feel right; it didn’t feel ready.
“Me too,” I said quietly, the effect of the alcohol wearing off quickly with the sobriety of the atmosphere. “But we can’t go back thirteen years. We’ve both changed.”
“I know,” he said, turning around to face me, his size blocking out most of the dying day from the window. “But what hasn’t changed is how I feel about you.”
“Does it scare you?”
He laughed quietly. “It shouldn’t, given ten years in the military but it does.”
“Me too.”
I sipped the hot tea in silence, wanting to talk but not knowing where to begin and knowing somehow, that now wasn’t
the right time. Kilian’s expression was thoughtful, unaware of the present as if he was reliving an old moment and had somehow slipped back to that point.
“Did you have other boyfriends at university?” he said, his words coming from nowhere.
I smiled into my mug. “No. I focused on school. There wasn’t anyone who I was interested in. You kind of ruined me.”
“Good.” His words were firm, definite. “I used to think that maybe you met someone else and at night, when I was first deployed, I tortured myself with who you might be with.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, because I was. I never wanted to hurt him. “I didn’t want that. I used to half hope you would move on from me quickly because that kind of made me feel better, that I wouldn’t have hurt you that much…”
He interrupted me with a laugh. “I didn’t think you meant to hurt me, Claire. I knew you too well for that. Shall we go?”
I nodded and stood up, stretching. The night was still and warm, the bushes and shrubbery at the side of the path rustling with night life. A crescent moon hung in the sky and cast half shadows that were still from the lack of wind. It was a perfect summer’s night, the air full of sweetness and promise.
We walked side by side in quietness rather than silence, my bags carried in one of his hands as if they were nothing. Our hands brushed together and I felt his fingers grasp mine, our pace slowing. A fox ran across the path a few feet ahead, its quick feet lending us only a fleeting appearance and for a moment, I mourned what we could’ve had if I had been honest with Killian back then, where we would be now. Of course, there was a chance we wouldn’t have worked, that it would’ve been puppy love and we would’ve outgrown each other. Maybe it was always meant to be this way.
