Chapter 12 #4
We’re not the only people noticing the new arrival. All around the room, women are sneaking peeks at him, some of the teenagers giggling and shoving each other, the mums smiling in appreciation. The nerdy grunge boy Libby is chatting to is openly staring at him, and even my mum looks taken aback.
Just as the music segues into ‘Moves Like Jagger’ by Maroon 5, he spots me, waves, and strides right across the dance floor.
Everyone parts to let him pass, some of them gawking after him as he goes.
Lucy is definitely checking out his ass, and pretend-fans her face with her hands as she does.
She incorporates the action into the chorus, which is pretty neat.
Leaving a trail of distracted women behind him, he closes the distance between us.
I manage to shut my mouth, but my eyes are still wide as he approaches.
He’s giving me the smile, and it is even more effective than usual.
My knees literally go weak, and I lean back against the bar for support.
Hot damn, he is gorgeous. I think Laura would literally explode if she saw him like this.
‘Babe,’ he says, his accent more pronounced than usual. ‘You look… stunning.’
He swoops me into his arms and presses me close, his fingers twining into my hair as he holds my face a few inches away from his. I lose the power of speech, and he whispers into my ear: ‘Just go with it, Bambi…’
My arms wrap around his waist, and our bodies melt into each other.
His green eyes are shining– probably in amusement at my bewildered expression– and he gives me a barely-there wink.
Then he kisses me. It is long; it is lingering; it is good enough to turn me into liquid.
I have not been kissed for a very long time, and I have not been kissed quite like this in my entire life.
It sets all of my senses alight– the way he looks, the touch of his lips on mine, the scent of masculine cologne.
My hands creep up to his shoulders, and I cling on for dear life, wrapping my fingers around his neck.
By the time he pulls away, I’m breathless for all kinds of reasons. Our eyes maintain contact even after the kiss has ended, and I gaze up at him and blink. The man has kissed all the sense out of me.
‘Wow,’ Sally says, reminding me that the rest of the world exists. ‘I feel like I should applaud…’
Aidan looks across, as though seeing her for the first time. He disentangles from me, but keeps my hand firmly held in his. I squeeze it, needing the support.
‘You must be Sally,’ he says, giving her the smile, but only a watered-down version. He keeps the big guns for me. ‘I’m Aidan Calloway. Delighted to meet you.’
He holds out his other hand for Sally to shake, and she actually blushes.
Now, for me this would simply be a sign that I was awake, but Sally never blushes.
She sees embarrassment as a sign of weakness and usually refuses to have any dealings with it at all.
At a guess, though, Aidan’s sheer gorgeousness has undone her.
‘And I’m Sarah’s dad,’ my father says, staring at him with a touch of belligerence. He’s used to being the biggest man in the room, but Aidan has a good few inches on him and uses them well. To be fair he’s also just snogged his daughter right in front of him.
‘Sir,’ he says, in such a polite tone that not even my argumentative dad could find fault with it. ‘A pleasure. And who’s this? Another sister?’
He uses such a flirty tone with my mum that she also blushes. Good lord, the man has ruined us all. She lets out a coquettish giggle and slaps him lightly on the arm. ‘Get away with you,’ she says, clearly delighted. ‘I’m Sarah’s mum of course!’
Sally is still staring at him, uncharacteristically lost for words, shaking her head slightly as though she’s trying to wake herself up. I know exactly how she feels. I’m still reeling from that kiss. From that closeness.
When I came up with this stupid suggestion, we didn’t actually discuss what this evening would look like in terms of physical contact.
Maybe naively, I didn’t even consider it.
I just had this half thought-out idea that it would stop my parents and my sister from seeing me as a tragic spinster.
Maybe I anticipated a bit of handholding, or an arm around the shoulder, just to make it look real.
What I hadn’t anticipated, though, was being melted into a puddle of tangled nerve-endings, with every cell in my poor confused body screaming for more.
That must have looked real, surely? It most definitely felt real.
And wonderful. Was it wonderful for him too, or is he just acting? What the heck is going on?
Maybe it’s this befuddlement that renders me incapable of doing what I really should be doing– whisking Aidan away from my family before anything can go wrong.
He’s done his bit– boy, has he done his bit– and now we should slink away to a quiet corner for the next few hours and stay out of trouble.
Except that’s not quite how things seem to be working out.
That entrance of his, plus that kiss, attracted a lot of attention.
I can feel people’s eyes on us. I’ve never especially enjoyed the feeling of being watched, and I grab another glass of champagne to help calm my nerves.
I pass one to Aidan without asking, and he kisses me on the cheek in thanks.
God. This is going to get overwhelming very quickly if he keeps touching me like this.
Both my nieces descend upon us, as well as their dad, Ollie.
Introductions are made, and I can tell that they are all smitten.
Aidan is as socially adept as I am reluctant, and he shines in the spotlight– gone is the laid-back wolf man running around the village topless, and in his place is this super-stylish, supremely confident master of the universe.
He told me about his former life, but I suppose I hadn’t been quite able to visualise it.
Now I can, and it’s quite the spectacle.
Libby says a shy hello, and Lucy hugs him, making the most of every moment. She laughs as she pulls away, and says: ‘Blimey, Auntie Sarah, you’ve done all right for yourself, haven’t you?’
Even Ollie is clearly in the grips of some kind of man-crush, shaking his hand and grinning like a loon. ‘Is that Tom Ford?’ he asks. ‘The suit?’
‘It is,’ Aidan confirms. ‘I hope that’s okay? I was told tonight wasn’t too formal…’
His suit, of course, looks like it belongs on a mega-yacht, along with its owner.
You can practically see Ollie wondering what Aidan’s idea of ‘formal’ looks like if this is casual.
Within seconds, Aidan has been pumped for information by my whole family.
I look on in amazement as he navigates it all, telling them the truth but in a way that somehow doesn’t really reflect the Aidan I know.
Yes, he works in finance. Yes, he’s recently bought a ‘crash pad in the countryside’, and he was indeed born in the States, but somehow, none of that feels real or authentic.
It’s impressing the hell out of my lot, but at the same time, I prefer my Aidan.
Even as I think the words, I feel like an idiot.
There is no ‘my’ Aidan. He is putting on a good show here, giving no hint of the fact that he has abandoned his once-glamorous life for a reclusive existence in the back of beyond, surrounded by Wolfdogs.
I see that side of him, and enjoy that side of him, but it doesn’t make him ‘mine’, in any way, shape or form.
I’m still so impressed by his transformation that I barely react at first when my dad swigs down the last of his pint and narrows his eyes slightly.
He rubs his chin, though, which is often a sign of impending trouble.
That’s usually the way he prepares to say something awful.
Something awful that he will then justify by shrugging and saying ‘Well, I’m just telling it like it is!
’ He seems to think this excuses every horrible thing that comes out of his mouth, and that it somehow makes him some kind of folk hero fighting for the cause of truth and justice, rather than just a twat.
‘Aidan,’ my dad says, his voice taking on that ‘everyone, listen to me’ tone that automatically puts my back up.
‘It’s a shame you didn’t meet our Sarah ten years ago, son.
She should have popped out a couple of babies like Sally did, given us some more grandkids.
Suppose she’s probably too old now, so no chance of that. ’
There is a stunned silence as he speaks, as he ‘tells it like it is’.
Why he felt the need to say that, to embarrass me, I will never know.
He probably doesn’t know himself, other than he likes to be the focus of everybody’s attention.
Whether that’s for negative or positive reasons seems to be irrelevant to him.
Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’ booms incongruously in the background, and even my mum looks taken aback.
She steps away from him, as though trying to distance herself from the comment, and Ollie stares at his shoes.
Aidan, to give him credit, is the first to recover.
Maybe it’s because he didn’t grow up in my dad’s shadow, and therefore isn’t as anxious about him as we are.
I feel his hand tighten around mine, and he tugs me very slightly closer, so we are just about touching. I’m used to taking crap like this from my dad, but I have to admit it’s nice to not feel alone for once.
‘Your daughter is an intelligent, kind, beautiful woman, Mr Wallis,’ he says, his voice firm but even.
I can tell he’s angry, but I doubt any of the others could.
‘She’s built a career from her sheer talent, she works incredibly hard, and she makes time to be a good friend, sister and aunt.
Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever met such an amazing lady.
I don’t care about her age, and I don’t want children– there are already plenty of those in the world, many of them in need.
I’d also point out that there is a lot more to Sarah– to all women– than simply producing babies.
They weren’t put on this planet just to act as breeding mares.
Now, could I get you another drink, sir? ’
My dad splutters a little, completely out of his comfort zone at somebody daring to disagree with him.
‘Hear hear!’ says Lucy, clapping her hands. ‘Auntie Sarah, he’s not just hot, he’s a feminist!’
Everyone apart from my father laughs at this, and I feel a sliver of tension creep into my jaw.
Is this the point where Dad decides to try and fight his way out of a corner again?
I can tell Sally is worrying about the same thing.
Aidan stands a little taller, and uses those extra inches to look even more capable.
He is a lot younger, a lot fitter, and would never hurt a man in his seventies.
But my dad doesn’t know that. I see the cogs turn in his brain.
Offering him a drink was genius; it gives Dad an out and allows him to save face.
‘Yeah, go on then,’ my dad says, obviously deciding to take it. ‘I’ll have another pint, thanks pal. Eight quid, mind!’
‘That’s okay,’ Aidan says, smiling. ‘I can afford it.’
‘The bar is free !’ Sally replies, rolling her eyes in exasperation. It makes us all laugh again, and the moment of danger passes. For now at least.
Aidan orders us all drinks, and passes them around. I watch him with wonder, surprised yet again by another layer being revealed. When he’s done, he puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in next to him, dropping a sweet kiss on the bare skin of my shoulder.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper, as everyone else chats among themselves. ‘Nobody has ever stood up for me like that before.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he whispers back. ‘I’ve dealt with a lot of assholes in my life. Your dad doesn’t even make the top ten. And by the way, I meant what I said earlier. You do look stunning.’