By His Play

4. Effie

4

EFFIE

I wake with my stomach growling and my mouth watering.

For a blissful few minutes, I’m a teenager again on break from school and spending long, relaxing days with Grams.

I stretch my legs out and groan, happy to lose myself in the illusion that everything in my life is as it should be.

But all too soon, the fantasy I’m happy to lose myself in begins to fade and reality slips back in.

Although it’s painful to know that Grams isn’t the one baking up a storm in the kitchen, amusement rolls through me at the thought of who is.

I almost don’t believe it, but the scent of sugar and cinnamon is too much to deny. That isn’t a shop-bought scent. That’s real.

Curiosity has me throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed.

Finding one of Kieran’s old hoodies in one of my drawers, I drag it over my head and slip into the bathroom to freshen up.

It’s no surprise that he’s awake before me. Years of being up at sunrise to train has become a habit that he’s unable to break in the off-season.

I cringe as I come to stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom to wash my hands and brush my teeth. My eyes are red and puffy, showcasing both the effects of the alcohol and my emotional outburst last night.

Drinking was only going to end one way. There may have been times in the past when I’ve been a fun drunk, but now isn’t it. And I’m sure Kieran has the makeup smears on his shirt to prove it.

Splashing some cold water on my face in the hope of rectifying the situation, I keep my eyes downcast as I grab my toothbrush.

My stomach continues to rumble as the scent of cinnamon only increases through the house.It’s as if I haven’t eaten in a week, despite the incredible meal we shared last night.

By the time I’ve finished, my patience to see what he’s up to is at an all-time high.

Quiet music floats from the direction of the kitchen as I silently pad toward it and as I get close, I realize that Kieran is singing along.

A smile twitches at my lips as I try to predict what I’m about to walk into.

I discover not twenty seconds later that that was impossible.

I come to a stop and rest my shoulder against the doorframe as he pulls the oven open and slides out a tray full of cinnamon buns.

My stomach growls as I watch him turn and place the tray onto one of Gram’s counter protectors.

He stands and studies his creations for a few moments before reaching for a cooling rack and embarking on transferring his buns.

I stand there with a smirk on my face, feeling happier than I have in a long time.

He looks larger than life, standing in the middle of Grams’ modest kitchen. But then I guess that should be expected when he’s a six-foot giant. I’m used to Grams pottering around in here, and she’s even shorter than I am.

“Ow, fuck,” he complains when a bun burns his finger.

Unable to hold it in, I snigger, alerting him to my presence.

He spins around with wide eyes and his pointer finger in his mouth as he tries to soothe the burn.

“The cinnamon butter is hot,” he mumbles around the digit, making me laugh even harder. And it only gets worse when my eyes drop to his chest, and I take in the mess on his t-shirt.

“Oh my god,” I blurt.

“Baking is hard,” he complains after letting his hand fall to his side.

“Anyone would think Grams hadn’t taught you well,” I tease.

Both of us have spent more hours than I can count in here with her over the years, making all kinds of things.

I’m not a natural cook. Kieran always found it easier than me. Considering he’s grown up without having to do anything for himself, I expected him to be clueless. But we quickly learned that wasn’t the case. All my hours spent in this kitchen making memories with Grams didn’t turn me into a natural chef.

There’s a lot about our childhoods that align, but while I was learning how to cook, sew, and a whole host of other things with my grandmother, Kieran and his brothers were looked after by nannies. From what he’s said, they were all wonderful and good at their job, but none of them were a replacement for a parent or grandparent.

I always felt sorry for him because I knew he was missing out. Or at least, he was until Grams took him under her wing as if he was her own.

“Haven’t baked a single thing in years,” he confesses. “I might kill us both with these.”

Moving closer, I take a better look at his treats.

They look incredible. The dough is golden and soft looking, the cinnamon butter sticky and sweet.

It’s been far too long since I’ve had a fresh, home-cooked cinnamon bun for breakfast.

Tears burn my eyes as memories of times gone by flicker through my head like a movie.

“Shit. It was meant to make you smile,” Kieran whispers, clearly chastising himself over my reaction.

Ripping my eyes from his goodies, I turn to look at the man himself.

A laugh tumbles from my lips at the sight of flour on his cheek and in the scruff on his chin.

His hair is still a mess from sleep, and despite his concern over my reaction, he’s relaxed and happy.

“You’re cute,” I say, reaching up to wipe the flour from his skin.

“Not usually what I hear from women, but I’ll take it.”

“Ah, sorry,” I tease before clearing my throat and putting on my best sultry voice. “Oh, Kieran, you’re so hot and sexy.” I trail my finger down his arm, over his bicep, and let out a sigh. “I can barely hold myself back.”

“You’re trouble,” he laughs, staring down at me with amused eyes.

I shrug one shoulder, feeling completely at ease in his company.

“Just how you like me,” I say, mimicking his words from before I fell asleep last night.

He gives me his full panty-melting, megawatt smile, and I can’t help but take a step back.

I may have been teasing him before, but my best friend really is hot as hell.

“So…would you like to have a go on my buns?”

He manages to keep a serious face for all of ten seconds before the grin returns and his laughter fills the air.

“No need to look so horrified.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“A cute one though, right?”

Shaking my head, I make my way to the dining table when he gently pushes me in that direction.

“So, what’s the plan today?” I ask, ignoring his need for me to stroke his ego.

“Whatever you want,” he says as the coffee machine comes to life, adding the rich scent of beans to the sweetness already in the air.

“My time here isn’t about what I want,” I confess.

He doesn’t say anything for the longest time, making me regret saying those words out loud. Not that they were necessary in the first place. Kieran already knows.

“You need to do something for yourself,” he concludes as he lowers a plate and mug of coffee before me.

“No. I need to be here for Grams.”

“You are, Eff. You’ve been here for her every day for months. Trust me, there will be no question in her mind that you love her. That you’re here for her.”

I can’t help but shake my head. “Some days she might. But others, she doesn’t even know my name, let alone that I’m here for her.” The words cause physical pain in my chest. Every time I walk through her door and she’s got that blank look in her eyes, a little bit of me dies. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up the brave face that’s required of me.

“We’ll go and see her later. But before then, I’m taking you out for a little Effie time.”

“Kieran,” I warn.

His eyes hold mine, refusing to release them until I concede.

“Your job might be to look after Grams right now. But mine…mine is to look after you. So eat, then shower, and then I’m taking you out.”

“Kieran,” I try again, but this time I get nothing but his hard glare. “Fine,” I sigh, lifting my cinnamon bun to my lips.

I take a bite and instantly groan in delight.

“Oh my god, this is so good.”

His eyes sparkle with my praise.

“Women always love my buns.”

“ W hat is this place?” I ask as Kieran drives up to a huge building on the outskirts of town I’ve never seen before.

It’s new, that much is obvious, but it’s also fancy as hell.

“The Cove?” I mutter as we pass the sign that gives nothing away.

This is clearly a place for celebrities to come and hide out.

It suits Kieran. Me, not so much.

“Don’t complain,” Kieran mutters as he pulls the car up directly outside the entrance. The valet immediately moves toward us.

“Kieran,” I warn.

“You deserve this. Just…embrace it.”

Before I have a chance to argue, my door is opened, and I have little choice but to get out.

“Thank you,” I murmur as I step past him.

Kieran is a little more confident as he shakes the man’s hand, no doubt slipping him a tip and coming to stand beside me.

“Do you trust me?” he asks ominously.

I stare up at the huge, immaculate white building before me.

“Sadly, I do. Do your worst.”

With his arm draped around my shoulder, he guides me inside.

I expect to see people, but much to my surprise, other than one lady sitting behind a reception desk, the place is deserted.

“Is this place open?” I whisper, terrified of making too much noise.

“No.”

“N-no?” I stutter, looking up at him.

“It doesn’t open for another week.”

“Then how?—”

“Effie,” he laughs.

“Oh. It’s a Callahan place, isn’t it?”

“Kingston’s latest pet project. There isn’t a single inch of this place that isn’t five stars, and I don’t know anyone more deserving of trying it out than you.

“We have the entire place to ourselves. The spa, the restaurant, the rooms. Whatever you want to do, all you have to do is say.”

I stand there in silence, gazing up at the ornately painted ceiling above me.

This is the kind of place my parents love. They thrive on being photographed in exclusive resorts like this. Showing a side of their lives that is nothing but fake.

All I’ve ever tried to be is the opposite of that.

“This is too much,” I say weakly.

“For my best friend, nothing is ever too much,” Kieran says with the most genuine of smiles. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I could really make use of the sauna.”

“I didn’t bring a suit,” I confess as he leads me toward the back of the vast entrance hall.

“Ah, no need to worry about that.”

“I’m not going anywhere naked,” I argue.

“Why not? It’s only my eyes that’ll be on you.”

He’s teasing, I know he is. But it doesn’t stop heat from rushing through my veins. It’s closely followed by a huge onslaught of fear.

Kieran has seen more than his fair share of beautiful women. I’d hate to even imagine what he’d think of my body compared to theirs.

I’m not a tall, slim supermodel.

I’m short with more curves than any of those women would accept.

“I’m joking, Eff,” he assures me when I come to a grinding halt a few feet before the sign directing us to the spa. “Everything you need for today is waiting for you in the locker room.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Not a chance. All I know is that you deserve to be treated like the queen you are.”

I stare up at him, all my earlier concerns falling away as the sudden urge to just let go of it all gets the better of me.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Luck. Anytime.”