Chapter Twenty
Finlay staggered back and wiped the sweat from his brow. His hands were raw and his muscles aching from almost an hour of tug-of-war practice.
‘Come on folks,’ Brann, the team leader, said, dusting his hands together. ‘This is like the dress rehearsal. We’ve only got two weeks left.’
Like they didn’t know that already, which was why this extra Saturday afternoon practice had been squeezed in. Brann, a builder by trade, was usually easy-going but when it came to the tug-of-war he transformed into a warrior-like competitor. He’d insisted on them all wearing their kilts and ‘Brawny Briars’ t-shirts so they could get the feel of what it would be like on the day. Maybe it was sensible; there was a lot of new blood on the team, one of the newbies being Aidan, Finlay’s cousin. Since the Elise debacle, things had been cold between them even though there had been a recent thaw. Logan was also there with a stunning blue-haired cousin of his. She was the only woman on the team and despite looking slim, she was as tough as the guys and possibly even more competitive, high-fiving Logan every time their side won.
Aidan moved in beside Finlay and put his hand on his shoulder. ‘I don’t know what possessed me to sign up for this,’ he said in his famously deep voice. ‘I feel like we’ve been put through the wringer. Is it always like this?’
‘Brann likes to win,’ Finlay said. So did he, but he wasn’t obsessive about it. Perhaps taking part in so many sports had taught him you couldn’t win at everything all the time and that learning to cope with defeat was part of the process.
‘Don’t we all,’ Aidan said. ‘I hear you’ve got engaged again. That was quick.’
‘My speciality, isn’t it?’ he said dryly, knowing only too well how Aidan had felt when he and Elise had got engaged so soon.
‘I hope this one works out for you.’ He clapped Finlay’s back. ‘Solidarity, Fin. We’ve both been burned by the same woman. I’m lucky to have found Lilah; I hope this girl’s the one for you and we can both shove Elise into the history books where she belongs.’
‘Yeah, let’s hope.’ He couldn’t muster any enthusiasm into his words because in a few weeks’ time, everyone would know Genevieve wasn’t ‘the one’ and he’d be dumped again.
‘One more time, folks,’ Brann said. ‘Then you can all bugger off back home for your dinner.’
Finlay took up the rope and anchored his hands on it. This year’s team was looking good but there were always better teams comprising guys who looked like professional wrestlers. The Highland Haulers were usually the favourites and were very hard to beat.
Brann took his place and gave the shout. The scuffle began. But half the team tugging against the other half wasn’t a true representation of how it would be once they were in the games arena up against the other teams. Finlay remembered the helpless feeling of being dragged over the line by a stronger team, knowing that no matter how much personal effort he threw into it, they were going down. Why did that feel oddly similar to his life right now? He was clinging to a rope dragging him towards Dubai, away from all his friends, his family… and Genevieve. They weren’t even a real couple. He gave a tremendous tug on the rope and let out a roar. In front of him Logan and Cha, the blue-haired woman, also let off shouts and heaved. The rope moved their way, and they dragged the other side across the line. Brann shouted for them to stop.
‘Well done, this side.’ He pointed to Finlay’s side. ‘And well done, everyone. We’ll still have Tuesday’s practice, but we can’t do next Saturday as a few people have other engagements.’
Me!Finlay always had other engagements, it seemed. Engagement was his middle name. And next Saturday he had the unenviable delight of taking Genevieve to his dad’s sixtieth birthday party – a rock ’n’ roll dress-up karaoke event in the function room of a riverside hotel in Dundee. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to work out it would be a hideously garish shindig compared to the refined social events Genevieve was used to. Finlay often wondered if he was adopted – made sense in so many ways. If he discarded the family resemblance, it was easy to think he must come from different genes. Both his parents and Hayley were so much more ‘out there’ than him. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting a rock ’n’ roll dress-up karaoke for a birthday. His father’s latest girlfriend, Liz Brown, was number goodness-knows-what since he’d divorced their mum when Finlay was twelve and Hayley was seven. They’d grown up being introduced to new stepsiblings, even going on holiday with them sometimes, only for his dad to split up with whoever she was. Hayley was good at keeping in touch with some of them. Finlay didn’t bother. Their mum moaned about Dad and ‘all his women’ but she’d had a fair few boyfriends herself. Maybe this was where genetics played their part. Finlay was serially engaging himself to a string of women – not that unlike his dad then.
‘See you at your dad’s party next week,’ Aidan said as he and Finlay packed up their kit bags. ‘Are you wearing fancy dress?’
Finlay pulled a face. ‘Hayley’s got me a leather jacket. That’s as far as my rock ’n’ roll style goes.’
Aidan chuckled. ‘Yeah, I haven’t a clue what to wear. Lilah’s sorting it. She’s going for the full rockabilly look.’
‘I literally have no idea what that means.’
Aidan pulled out his phone. ‘Look at this.’ He swiped through some pictures until he landed on one of his girlfriend. Finlay peered at the photo. She had her red hair pulled into a ponytail with a headscarf knotted on top of her head and wore a green dress covered in huge white polka dots, tight at the top that flared into an A-line skirt.
‘Ah. I get the idea now. Like Grease.’
‘Yup.’
Finlay let out a sigh. He’d told Genevieve about the dress code and she’d probably chatted to Hayley about it, but he couldn’t imagine this kind of thing would be her taste at all. She was always so chic and glam. Then again, so was Hayley, and apparently, she had an outfit already. Maybe he was worrying about nothing.
‘You’re quite the celebrity these days, aren’t you?’ Logan said, passing him on the way out.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Eleanor follows your fiancée on the socials. Your proposal was quite something, I hear.’ He waggled his eyebrows.
‘Seriously?’ Finlay shook his head.
Logan clapped his shoulder. ‘All good fun.’
Finlay jammed his remaining stuff into his bag. This was when social media was bad. Only the fact it was Genevieve’s job meant it was impossible to escape. For now anyway. Just a couple more weeks and he’d be old news. He said a quick goodbye to the team and headed home. He couldn’t hang about as they were going for tea with his mum later. His life had snowballed into madness on top of madness. So much for a quiet break before heading off to Dubai; he’d never had such a busy summer holiday in his life.
Genevieve’s car was outside when he pulled up at his flat. Odd. He was supposed to be picking her up later. Why was she here already? She knew the code for the key box, so he wasn’t surprised to find the door open.
‘Hey.’ He bent down to greet Mitzi, who started snuffling around his ankles the second he opened the door. ‘What are you doing here?’ She carried on wriggling about excitedly.
‘Hi.’
He glanced up. Genevieve was at the door into the living area, the bright light from the French doors setting her in silhouette.
‘Is everything ok?’ He dumped his bag on the floor, suddenly aware he hadn’t bothered changing out of his kilt and t-shirt. He probably smelled dreadful.
‘Fine. I just wanted to see you.’
‘I’ve been at the tug-of-war practice.’
‘You took longer than I expected.’
‘That’s Brann’s fault. He’s obsessed, not that it’ll make any difference on the day. The Highland Haulers are too strong. What do you want to see me about?’
She gave a little shrug. ‘I’m just nervous, I guess. It’s weird because I know your mum but this feels so… I don’t even know how to describe it.’
‘Wrong?’ he said.
She let out a sigh. ‘Yup.’
‘It’s only another couple of weeks. Then you can tell everyone it didn’t work out. You can’t bear to leave Mitzi.’ His chest tightened at the thought. With all the crazy shit going on, he’d not really given himself a moment to think about the reality of starting a new job – a new life – in another country. It was getting so close and so real. ‘After that, all this will become a distant memory.’
‘Are you sure it won’t be a lasting monument to our idiocy?’
He huffed out a laugh. ‘I can’t promise that but time has a way of covering up stupidity. Life will go on and we’ll pick up the pieces and go with it.’ Would you listen to him, making a speech like he was on the playing field, psyching up his rugby team?
‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘I didn’t mean that, but it’s what we signed up for. If you want to back out now, then fine. Let’s split up and be done with. We can still use Dubai as a good reason, only you’ve had your realisation a couple of weeks early.’
Her eyes never left his and, like ice was slowly slipping down his windpipe and into his chest, his words settled on him.
Let’s split up and be done with.
‘I’m not ready yet.’ Her voice was quiet.
Me neither.But he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. It was like confessing to something he didn’t want to own. Maybe he didn’t want to split up with her at all. But that was mad. He raked his fingers through his hair. They had to split up and now he knew Genevieve had a history of this kind of thing, it only cemented the fact that this was a game. Elise had let slip about how she’d done something similar with someone else. Finlay hadn’t quizzed her on it. He didn’t need to know. It wasn’t like he had a clean slate when it came to his dating record. He’d been stupid to propose so many times… Genevieve liked pretending. And she was good at it. Too good. Convincing even.
‘I need to have a shower before we go to Mum’s,’ he said. ‘That was a gruelling practice.’
She moved from the doorway with deliberate steps, looking almost like a catwalk model as her hips swayed. ‘Do you need someone to wash you?’
‘Is that why you’re here?’ Still playing the game.
As she reached him, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her close. If this was what she wanted for the next two weeks, he could bear it – for authenticity purposes, of course.
‘Maybe,’ she said, running her hands over the words on his t-shirt. ‘The Brawny Briars.’ A smile played on her lips. ‘Very apt.’
He dipped in and pressed a kiss on her lips. She responded hungrily and when their tongues touched, familiar heat roared through him.
He was ready, so ready. He pulled back, crossed his arms over his chest and whipped off the t-shirt. Genevieve opened the bedroom door and almost shoved him in, closing it on a somewhat depressed looking Mitzi.
‘Sorry, pup,’ he muttered. ‘But this is not for your eyes.’
He helped Genevieve out of her floaty white gypsy top, lowering her bra straps and drinking in the sight of her pale skin warmed by the flush of arousal across her chest and the top of her breasts.
‘If you come into the shower with me, this is all going to get messed up before we get to my mum’s,’ he said, running his fingers through her long, perfectly straightened caramel locks.
‘Then you can have your shower after.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Don’t you know refined women like me always fantasise about hot sweaty men?’
He chuckled and unbuckled his kilt. ‘That’s all I needed to hear.’ He let the heavy kilt fall to the floor and the buckle made a loud thump. A moment of deep male satisfaction ripped through him as he watched her avid eyes skim over him. She’d seen it all before but it hadn’t diminished the attraction. In fact, it had forced her back for more. She was on him before he could think of anything else and he lifted her short floaty skirt, putting his hands under her bottom and hoisting her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they fell into another long hot kiss.
‘You are so hot,’ he said, lowering her to the floor, taking a condom from his bedside cabinet and placing it on the windowsill. He sat on the chair he usually used to drape clothes on. ‘Come, sit on my lap.’ He patted his knees.
With a grin, she straddled him and draped her arms over his shoulders. He snaked his arms around her, pulling her close. This position was intimate, even more so when she looked at him like that. Her pupils were wide and her irises glinted. Leaning in, he kissed her and the fires ignited. Both of them moaned and Finlay kept a tight hold on her as her fingers roamed into his hair, across his cheeks and around his neck. Her breasts bumped against his chest and he freed one and touched it, looking into her eyes. She threw back her head and smiled. A true smile that lit her eyes even more. No more serene Genevieve. The curtains were wide open and daylight streamed into the room, making this feel really wicked and kind of daring.
He smoothed his hand around her hips, lifting her skirt at the hem.
‘So beautiful.’
She bit into her lip, still smiling, as he traced his finger up her thighs.
‘And you’re still hot and—’
‘Sweaty?’
She trailed her fingers across his right pec and a bolt of arousal zipped through him. Raising her eyes to meet his, she smiled. ‘Sexy.’
‘Christ, you’re killing me,’ he said with a smile. ‘I love it when naughty Genevieve comes out to play.’
‘Do you think people can see us?’
‘I doubt it. We’re two floors up. What will they see anyway? Nothing I’m ashamed of. A beautiful woman having hot sex with her boyfriend?’
‘A sexy man making love to his girlfriend?’
‘I can do that.’
She squealed as he shifted under her, finding her most sensitive place and kissing her. His tongue made its way into her mouth. Their bodies rocked together, and everything became urgent. Greedy hands raced over his body and he groaned, drawing away from her kisses. He bent his head lower, trailing kisses over her breasts, sucking and licking until she squealed again.
He lifted her skirt and slipped the scrap of fabric to the side. Once that flimsy barrier was out of the way, he touched her until her moans filled the room. He had a vague thought about whether or not the neighbours might hear and what the hell they might make of it before she came undone. Her heavy panting filled the air, and she flopped into him, boneless and flushed.
He held her close, recovering his breath. When he drew back a little and focused on her face, her eyes met his and his heart leapt. That look. What did it mean? Was it admiration? Pleasure? Or more? Something like what he was feeling perhaps? That unnamed feeling he hardly dared entertain but in intimate moments like this, it was hard to ignore. His head was still riddled with a mess of doubts. But those thoughts could fuck off. Now was not the time.
‘I need that condom.’
She pulled it from the windowsill where he’d put it and helped him put it on. Watching her fingers in action made him stop breathing. When she moved back into position, she was smiling again.
‘Ready for more?’ He stroked his hand down her cheek.
‘For you? Always.’ The cheeky look was still there, but was there a hint of something deeper? Sex and happy hormones were probably making him imagine it but it was almost like she was serious, like she needed this as much as food or drink to stay alive. He felt the same way. He swallowed, holding back for a second as another unwanted thought assailed him. A thought of him sitting alone in his accommodation in Dubai… And not just for a few days. For three years. Three long years. He couldn’t exactly expect her to wait for him. A wave of emotion burst through him. He wanted her so badly and not just in this moment. But these moments were all he had left and he had to make the most of it.
She lowered herself onto him and he pulled her close. I love you so much. The words hurtled through his head as he thrust into her, keeping his eyes on her. He didn’t dare say anything aloud, but he wanted her to know, to understand, and to feel the connection both physically and emotionally. She might be pretending, but he wasn’t.
He didn’t waste time in the shower. He couldn’t afford to. Spending intimate time with Genevieve hadn’t been in the afternoon’s plans, not that he was complaining. No time spent with her could be considered a waste, not when he had so little of it left.
When he emerged from the en suite with his towel around him, he heard her somewhere else, talking to Mitzi. Maybe just as well. Her attraction to his naked body seemed as strong as his was to hers and if she saw him like this, she might jump him again and he was too weak to refuse. Yes, you sad weak man,he chivvied himself as he threw off the towel and grabbed some clothes from the wardrobe.
Ten minutes later, they were in the car and heading the short distance to his mum’s house. They could walk it but as they’d left it so late, it was quicker this way. His mum’s house was on the hill, as most of the houses in Glenbriar were. The town perched around a hillside at the neck of Loch Briar, where it joined the River Briar. They drove up a steep road that bent around past some old Victorian terraced houses. Aidan’s mum lived in one of them with Aidan’s loud-mouthed half-sister, Scarlett. As Finlay was related to Aidan through their fathers, he was quite relieved not to have to see Scarlett often. But his mum and Aidan’s mum had stayed friends after both their marriages had fallen apart. Even after ‘Elise-gate’ they’d managed to cling to the friendship and Finlay half wondered what his mum really made of him and his choices. Did she worry to her friends about him? Did they take her worries and spread them on as gossip?
He and Genevieve pulled up in front of his mum’s neat little bungalow and Genevieve smiled anxiously.
‘My grandma lives not far from here,’ she said. ‘I should have brought some more food for her. She’ll be thinking I’m neglecting her but this past couple of weeks have been mad.’
‘They really have.’ Finlay unbuckled his seatbelt.
‘How was your mum with Elise when she first met you and her as a couple?’
‘Like she usually is.’ His mum was like Hayley. She liked everyone and rarely had a bad word to say about anyone. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. Just nerves.’
‘It’ll be fine. Mum likes you, there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘That is what worries me. I hope she doesn’t think I’m taking advantage of you.’ She looked him up and down, then added quietly. ‘Because I kind of am.’
He winked. ‘Well, you can take that kind of advantage any time you like.’
‘As long as it’s within the next two weeks.’
‘Yeah. Exactly.’
They fell silent, not meeting each other’s gaze until Finlay opened the car door. The garden around the bungalow was a riot of summer colours, but everything was neat and well-kept. His mum enjoyed gardening and, since he’d left home, she paid neighbouring kids to cut her lawn as it was one job she wasn’t keen on. Beside the driveway, that was comfortably big enough for two cars, was a rose hedge. Gorgeous red blooms covered it and the scent was immediate and almost overwhelming. Finlay was reminded simultaneously of Turkish delight and sitting on a bench with Genevieve.
‘I was that girl, Finlay.’
‘What girl?’
‘The one who pretended to hate the guy she fancied.’
He frowned and rubbed his forehead. Had she actually said that? When he was a teenager in this house, had she liked him even then?
‘This is fate. You and me. This is the lightning bolt moment. I am “the one”.’
‘I know. It was always you.’
What?It was the roses. The smell. They reminded him of that drunken night but had she actually said those things? Maybe he was imagining it because he was home and his brain was shoving mismatched things together and trying to make sense of them.
His eyes landed on her. She looked back at him and something intense struck his insides. Was she remembering that night too? Or other things? Maybe childhood memories… Had she really always liked him?
Was it really always him? And did that change anything if it was? Or was it just one other thing they had to get over and leave behind?