by Dee Palmer
“Think that if it gives you comfort, Mother.”
“It does. I’m not saying settle—I would never say that—but I truly believe that the only reason you have such an aversion to commitment and marriage is because—”
“I haven’t found the ‘one’, yes I know,” I interrupt, waving her down from her unicorn. “Mum, I love that you still believe in fairy tales.”
She drops one hip and beams with such a wide and heartfelt smile I kind of envy her. That she feels this level of pure joy and love with another human is unfathomable to me. Even if I don’t share her faith, I can appreciate the beauty of it when I see her true happiness with my own eyes. Even after everything she’s been through, she still believes. I stand and fall into her open arms, welcoming the comfort and unconditional love that is my mum.
“Thank you for doing this meeting. You know I would have if Arthur hadn’t sprung this surprise trip on me.”
“Don’t even think about it, I know this deal backwards, and if the stiff suit needs one more look to cross the t’s and dot the i’s, it’s no skin off my nose.” I step from her embrace and start to pick up the clothes from the floor and replace them on hangers. “It’s your time to have a little fun. You deserve it. I’m so proud of you, Mum.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the fjords and take a cruise. Arthur’s a good man.” She hesitates, and it’s slight, but I hear the catch in her voice. I am instantly hugging her, holding her tight when I reply.
“Mum, don’t. Arthur’s a great man. I wouldn’t let you be with anyone that didn’t treat you like a princess. I may not believe in marriage but that doesn’t mean I want anything less than complete commitment for my mum, and Arthur’s intentions are honourable.”
“I know, he told me on our first date you had asked him.” She chuckles.
“I only have one Mum,” I point out, and I’m not surprised when she picks up on the unintentional inference.
“I only have you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I shake my head, annoyed she’s so damned intuitive sometimes; nothing escapes her. “I want you to be happy. You’ve been alone for long enough.” We lock eyes, and I hope she can feel the sincerity.
“I’ve never been alone. I have you and Finn.”
“And now you have Arthur,” I state emphatically, and I’m pleased when her smile mirrors mine.
“I do.”
“Just make sure if you’re saying that to him, he’s put a ring on it.” I kiss her cheek and continue with the clean-up. An explosion in Harrods wouldn’t look as bad as this.
“Hope, you do know where you get your wild side from, don’t you?” She slides her slim arm around my waist and pulls me to her side with a playful wink. I grimace and answer with more hope than conviction.
“An aunt I don’t know about.”
“Think that if it gives you comfort, Pumpkin.”
“Oh, god!”
I’M LIKE A FUCKING TEENAGER on a first date. I haven’t been able to keep my mind focused on anything these last few weeks. I’ve been consumed with one thing, one person, and today, I finally get to make my move. The situation is not without irony that I’m the one who has drawn this whole process out by investing in her company in the first place. It’s a great investment. Still I had to be sure the incendiary sparks that flew at the first meeting weren’t in my head. They weren’t, and every damn meeting since that first presentation has been agony, keeping my feelings at bay.
Dragging my hand through my hair, I mentally go over the plan I’ve spent the last week hatching. It has to work. I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt this nervous, I don’t even remember the last time I’ve felt like this.
I’m not proud that I’ve barely spoken two words to her at every meeting I’ve insisted on attending. That I was there at all was enough to raise suspicion, and I know for a fact if I actually engaged with her at anything other than a minimum safe distance of the entire length of a boardroom table, I would not be able to keep the interaction remotely professional. As much as I want her, I can’t have any misconceptions as to why BlueSky has invested in her company. I didn’t want anyone to catch wind of my intimate intentions. Unfortunately, I am extremely good at keeping my private thoughts, private. And that is why, for the first time in forever, I have a knot the size of a small car churning up my stomach.
This has to work.
There is a sharp knock on my door, and my PA, Thomas, pokes his head round.
“The transfer has been sent and cleared, sir.” He steps into my office and lays some documents on my desk. I walk away from the window and pick up the papers, my eyes scanning the figures and checking that the transfer has indeed cleared and is now in Hope’s bank, or more specifically, Serenity Salon’s business account.
“Good. And the rest is sorted?” I slip the documents into my briefcase, snap it shut, and turn to Thomas, who is now shifting uncomfortably under my scrutinising gaze.
“Yes, um…”
“Spit it out, Thomas.” I perch on the edge of the desk, and with wry amusement, urge him to continue. He’s been my PA for ten years. He is always immaculately dressed, professional to a fault, discreet, and only ever broaches anything remotely personal when he feels he has a metaphorical gun to his head, like now.
“Sir, I know this is overstepping my boundaries…” he rushes.
“Yet you clearly do not feel compelled to finish that sentence there.” I arch my brow and notice the bob of his throat as he swallows down his reticence and pushes on.
“I do, and at the risk of being fired, I have to ask…” He draws in a painfully slow, steadying breath.
“Yes…” I’m not sure why I’m encouraging him when he falters, but he pulls an appreciative smile when I do.
“Could you not just ask her out on a date?”
“She doesn’t date,” I state with a huge degree of irritation, given that he already knows this.
“Yes, I know, sir; I typed the report, but she might if you asked.” Thomas compiled most of the information, and at the risk of sounding like a complete stalker, had also asked BlueSky’s head of security to run some additional checks—surveillance and general fact finding, which one only ever gets from proper legwork. In my position, with my background and experience, it’s an unfortunate necessity.
“No. She might spend one night with me, and that is the last thing I want.” Standing, I feel the frustration racing in my veins. I walk over to the window once more and fail to focus on anything other than the horizon and my own inner conflict. I’ve never met anyone like her, and that is both a blessing and a curse.
“Sure.” He exhales dramatically.
“Thomas…” The clipped tone of my warning causes his face to register a mix of shock and mortification.
“Excuse me, sir, I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful. It’s just, one night is a start, and at the very least, she’d know you like her.”
He makes a valid point but acting before now was out of the question. “I do like her,” I assert more forcefully than I intended. I don’t exactly wear my heart on my sleeve and have no intention of starting now. Thomas is probably the only person aside from my sister who has any idea I hold a single interest outside of my work.
“I’m not sure she would know that, sir.” His tentative observation is fair, even if it rubs at my raw nerve of uncertainty.
“That was business, and with the payment cleared, our business is concluded. I can, in good conscience, take our relationship to the next level.”
“I think it might be helpful if she knew about the first level, sir.”
“And when I want your advice on relationships, I will ask for it,” I snap, and instantly regret it. Not because he didn’t deserve the response to his heavily sarcastic tone, but because it revealed the underlying fire I have contained until now.
His eyes widen with understanding of the significance of my outburst. He is immediately contrite. Unfortunately, my scowl has failed to render
him mute. “Of course, sorry…um…”
“Yes, Thomas.” We may as well have the whole gruelling conversation out of the way since he looks like he’s rooted to the floor with an expression of painful anxiety mixed with flashes of sympathy. I’m not sure which is worse, his look or this conversation.
“I don’t understand why…”
I sniff, derision coating my dismissive interruption. “You have been at the meetings, Thomas, so I don’t quite comprehend why you would ask that question.”
“Oh, no, sir, I don’t mean that, not at all. I can completely understand why you like her; she’s incredible.” He flusters. “No, I mean why like this? What if she says no?”
His questions have me reeling, because, frankly, that is not an option I’ve entertained, well, not out loud, at least. I school the sentiment in my voice because I know what I’m about to say is emotive enough. I feel the truth of it in my soul. “We live in a time with too many distractions. In a world bombarded with non-stop communication, I won’t risk missing the opportunity to make the only connection that matters. It has to be like this to give us any chance together.”
“I understand. Still, it does sound rather like a baptism of fire.”
“And she will thrive in the flame. I just know it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Because I have a record of making mistakes?” I arch my brow, and he tips a one-finger salute.
“A good point. Well, everything is set.” He checks his iPad and scans whatever is on the screen. I walk back over to my desk and start to close everything down, while repeating a conversation we had already gone over this morning, regarding who I’ve left in charge, my Chief Financial Officer and her husband who is Head of Operations. “Monique and Anderson can handle everything while I’m gone. I am not to be disturbed. I don’t even want to know if the apocalypse is about to happen; I shall just watch it burn up the horizon with Hope in my arms.”
“Very good, sir. Well, have a great time and best of luck.”
“Something else I have never relied on,” I state emphatically, even as I cross my fingers behind my back. I don’t believe in luck, and I’m not the superstitious type. Still, I do believe in love, love at first sight, and marriage, and I am done with being alone.
This has to work.
“You know what I mean.”
“Good bye, Thomas.”
“Sir.”
Present Day
“SO?” I JUMP BACK ON the bed and hand Hope a fresh bottle of beer. I did a mad dash to the fridge while she was in the loo, got beers and a few nibbles, and I kind of wish I had popcorn because I have a feeling this is going to be good.
“So?” Her face pinches with a confused, quizzical expression.
“Oh, no, you don’t get to play the innocent with me, young lady. What happened with Jørgen? I take it it was him that you took to see Greycoat? Well done, by the way. I’m so so proud of you.” I grab her hand and squeeze it, my mind erratically jumping from one highlight of her recent achievements to the next.
“I know, who’d’ve thought I’d be the co-owner of the UK’s leading spa retreat specialists, and Greycoat is the icing. Finn, you’ll love it. Even as a wreck of a building, it’s magical. When it’s been fully restored, it’s going to knock our competitors out of the water. The pictures don’t do it justice. But look…” She grabs my phone from my back pocket, logs into Serenity’s dropbox and selects the pictures folder. She begins to scroll through hundreds of pictures of the grand old building she and her mother bought.
“The renovations start next month. We had some delays with permits because it’s a Listed building and in an area of outstanding natural beauty. Just look at the view from the drive.”
Her excitement is infectious and it’s an effort to get her mind on anything else, but I have to try. “It’s beautiful and a nice try at deflection, but—”
“If Mrs. Cooper could see me now. I left school with nothing but a chip on my shoulder because of that bitch. She’s the only person to make me feel so fucking small. Said I’d end up barefoot and pregnant like my mother. As if being like my mother was a bad thing.” I share Hope’s indignation, anger and hurt at the notion. Mrs. Williams is one in a million, the mother I always wanted, a single mum running her own business, and she cared for me like her own.
“I hated that woman.” I match Hope’s scowl at the forced memory of the teacher from hell.
“Why is it the bad teachers have the biggest impact?”
“Not always, but she did pick on us. Still, it might’ve made you who you are today, a more determined, sassy, and savvy businesswoman extraordinaire.”
“She’s getting none of the credit, no matter how glass-half-full you want to look at this, Finn. Anyway, enough about me. How was the wedding? What other surprise have you had? Are you pregnant? Do you know who the father is?” She bombards me with questions that are shocking enough to distract my line of questioning, but only for a second. She’s good at this deflecting game.
“Whoa, whoa! I’m not pregnant, and the wedding was lovely. It’s just things are changing, and wait, wait… Hang on there, missy, this isn’t about me. What happened with the guy?”
“Nothing.” Hope stares me down and takes a long, slow pull of her beer.
“Hope, that is not a ‘nothing’ face,” I argue. Even if it really is, she’s impassive, and if her throat didn’t bob with a thick nervous swallow, I would question whether my suspicions are justified. She cracks under my scrutinising gaze.
“Nothing happened, nothing much. I took him to the manor. We got stranded for the weekend, but nothing happened.” She pulls a flat toothy smile that looks all wrong because it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Hope, you’re acting really weird. I mean, I get if you didn’t do anything since he’s a business partner. That makes sense, but—”
“Actually, he isn’t.”
“But you got the backing?”
“We did, but that is where his business involvement ended.” She falls silent. Even with the widest, most genuine smile spread on her face, she can’t disguise the reflection of sadness in her emerald eyes. I wait for her to fill the widening gap with the missing information. After several long minutes of furtive glances and tentative sipping of beer, I realise the information is not going to be forthcoming, and I speak.
“Um, okay, I’m not sure I understand, but you’re happy, yes?”
“About the business? Yes, I’m over the moon; we both are. The ink wasn’t even dry before Mum and Arthur were off globetrotting, and I’ve managed to take a little time off. I can run the restoration remotely if I need to, and the salons have a great team in place. It’s all good.”
“It’s all good?” My last attempt to get her to tell me what the hell is going on falls on deaf ears.
“I just needed to come and see my bestie. So what is the surprise?” She flips the conversation, and for now, I accept defeat.
“Pink, Tug, and Toxic want me to find them a wife.” I uncross my legs and lie back against the sumptuous pile of pillows, sinking so they block my peripheral vision. Hope pitches up on her elbow and leans over so her face is above mine.
“Wow, that was the quickest honeymoon on record. At least you don’t need to get a divorce,” she quips, but it stings, and I don’t join in her light giggle.
“It’s not funny, Hope. I love them all, and this isn’t the deal we all signed up for. I’m just trying to get my head around what’s changed.” I turn to my side, and she spoons in behind me, I take her arm, and we thread fingers.
‘I’m sorry, babe, I didn’t mean to be flip. So what are you going to do?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “I’m going to talk to them. I want them to be happy, and I do understand to some degree. It’s just not what I thought we were going to be.”
“People change,” she muses. Whether she’s referring to my situation or not, I’m uncomfortable with the sombre tone and seriousness of her words.
“You’re worried about being Yoko?” she says, and I snap my head round at her perfect intuition.
“Exactly! God, I’ve missed you.” I twist, and we meld together in the biggest hug.
“More than you know,” she whispers.
I whisper right back. “When you’re ready, I want you to tell me, Hope. I won’t judge, ever. I just want you to know that.”
“I know.” She forces the saddest smile, and I can see the turmoil dance in her deep, dark green eyes. I hold her gaze and then let it go. Sitting up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I scoot to my feet. She nestles into the dip my absence has just created.
“All right, then, do you want to come back down, and I’ll fix you something proper to eat, or do you want to crash? I don’t know how long you’ve been travelling.”
“The flight was only twelve hours, but I feel like I haven’t slept for a month.” She pulls the pillow to her chest and wraps her body like a snake around the comforter. Her lids are droopy, and she’s all but pushing out sleepy zeds with each breath.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“No, don’t seem to have an appetite, either.” She yawns.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” I tease.
“You’re hilarious. I’m just tired. I’ll be back to being myself after some sleep.”
“I better warn the boys.”
“Again with the funny. Just don’t give up your day job.”
“Talking of day jobs, when do you have to go back to work? I guess what I’m really asking is how long can you stay?” I turn back as I open the door.
“As long as you’ll have me.”
“Forever.” My reply is earnest, even if it’s not very likely.
