Chapter 15
. . .
Xavier
When I wake next, the sun is pouring through a big picture window, and I’m warm and cosy under a thick duvet. I stay still for a second, checking myself, but my headache seems to have gone. I savour the feeling and then come up on my elbows and look around my surroundings—Reuben’s bedroom.
When I first met him, I’d have predicted his style to be very minimalist, so devoted was he to being alone. This is something very different. It’s actually cosy.
The walls are whitewashed stone, and the floorboards are obviously the original ones because, although they’re polished to a soft sheen, they’re scarred and pockmarked by generations of people walking on them.
The bed is a huge old iron bedstead, but the duvet and pillows are plump, and the green checked bed linen is expensive.
I’ve lain on enough high-class hotel sheets to know the difference.
A thick orange bedspread lies on the bottom of the bed, and the whole effect is autumnal and cosy.
Artwork hangs on the walls, and I recognise two of Ivo Robinson’s flower pictures. I whistle. I bet they weren’t cheap. There’s also a big fireplace on one wall, but it’s unlit, and the air is cool, raising goosebumps, so I lie back on the pillows and snuggle under the covers.
I can hear movement downstairs—the steady tread of footsteps and intriguing rattles and bangs.
The scent of cooking bacon drifts into the room, and my stomach rumbles.
I’m vastly relieved that the nausea seems to have gone.
My belly rumbles again, and as if on cue, I hear footsteps on the stairs, and the bedroom door swings fully open.
Reuben edges in, carrying a tray. He looks immediately over at me, and his eyes light in relief. “You’re awake.”
I narrow my eyes. “You sound far more relieved about that than is comfortable.”
He sets the tray down on the bedside table. “You had a bad night.”
I blink. “Did I?” Memory stirs, and I remember being sick a few more times until I was just retching emptily. I flush as I suddenly also remember crying about how bad my head hurt and how he’d held me tight, rocking me against him as he placed cold compresses on my forehead.
He nods and reaches out, placing his hand on my forehead. His hand is big, the skin warm, and I just manage to restrain myself from nestling into him. I don’t think my dignity could take it. “Good. You’re cool again. I was on the edge of ringing the doctor last night.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t,” I say, horrified.
“I knew you’d be like that, but I still would have done it if needed. You fell asleep, though, so I left you alone.”
“It wasn’t my best night, but it probably hasn’t been my worst, and I was fine on my own.”
It’s a light comment, but he immediately looks troubled. “I can’t bear the idea that you’ve been ill on your own,” he says fiercely.
“I was actually thinking of some of the hangovers I’ve had.”
He frowns. “Hmm.”
I narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“No, come on. I know all your hmms. They have layers.”
That surprises a laugh out of him. When he subsides, he shrugs. “Just that you’ve been living a hard life for a while. It’s bound to catch up with you.”
I’m irritated now. “Oh, an appearance by Saint Reuben. How lovely. I haven’t seen him in at least twenty-four hours.”
He rolls his eyes, which irritates me even more. “I’m no angel, but my wild living would’ve been knocked into second place by you. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends.” He directs a suddenly sharp look at me. “It’s got to stop.”
“Oh, really?” I say dangerously.
Completely oblivious to his precarious position, he continues, “Yes. That’s what this is about. You need to get clean.”
“Clean? I haven’t been down a fucking mine.” He frowns. “Oh, relax for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even intend to take the drugs, so it’s not exactly my fault.”
“But you have been on them.” His eyes are a fierce molten grey. “You lost the Bliss job because you were high.”
“Who told you that?” I shake my head. “Pip, I suppose.”
“It’s common knowledge in the industry.”
“Which you are not a part of anymore, unless it’s to turn up and spy on me.”
“Spy?” His voice has gone high. “I don’t need to spy. I’m right here while you vomit and shake on me.”
“And has it escaped your attention that I could have been in a nice hotel room rather than enduring the journey from hell?” A guilty look crosses his face. “And the reason for that was because you kidnapped me.”
The guilt vanishes, and he makes a scoffing noise that makes me want to punch him. “It was hardly kidnapping.”
“The only thing missing was a ransom note.”
He takes a deep breath. “And who would pay that, Xavi?”
“Don’t call me that. Plenty of people would,” I flare.
“I can name them on one hand.”
“So?”
He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m just saying that you’re amazing. You’re beautiful, bold, clever, and brave.” Reluctant warmth kindles in my stomach. “And I would like to see you with a huge friendship group and someone special who sees you and not just the beautiful supermodel.”
It’s probably not his intention, but he makes me feel rather pathetic. “Oh, really?” I say, sweet and poisonous. “That’s what you want, is it? Someone special to appreciate me?”
He swallows hard, and I open my mouth to say something else. I usually would—it’s our pattern in life. But suddenly the fight leaves me, and I slump against the pillows. I don’t want to do this now.
He must sense it, because his own body relaxes, but his face remains determined as he leans over me, planting his hands on either side of my body.
This close, I can see the dark flecks in his eyes and smell the scent of him—sandalwood and something that’s just him.
I swallow hard. “I don’t want to fight with you, baby, but I’m putting you on notice.
I am going to get you better in yourself, and you need to help me with that. ”
“Oh, I do, do I?”
He nods, a spark of amusement suddenly flaring in his eyes. “Yes. You and I are going to be spending a lot of time together, after all.”
“I must have been very wicked.”
“That’s not exactly up for debate.” He reaches for the tray, placing it on my lap. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
I look down at the plate and blanch. “Did you prepare food for fifty people?” He snorts, but I carry on staring at the food in horrified fascination. “Oh my god, how many fucking carbs are in this?”
We both look at the plate. “A few,” he finally says.
“A few? Toast, sausages, and bacon.” My eyes widen. “Are these potatoes fried?”
His lip twitches. “I think you can take the day off from dieting, don’t you? Considering you lost most of your insides over the side of the Lochaline ferry.”
I glare at him. “That’s your fault too.”
He stands up with his eyes twinkling. “Undoubtedly. I am singlehandedly responsible for all the woes in the world.”
“Not the world. Just mine.”
The silence stretches, and his expression becomes stricken. My stomach turns over, and I reach for him, nearly jettisoning the tray in my haste. “No,” I say quickly. His sad face is making me feel sick and shaky again. “I was being snarky. I didn’t mean it.”
He swallows. “It’s the truth, though. It’s what you really think.”
“No, it isn’t. I believe I told you many years ago that I make my own mistakes. You may have been a complete shithead in the past, but you’re sort of my shithead. Like carrying purgatory around on my back.” I give a sigh. “Be strong, Xavier.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, please stop talking.” He steps away, looking a little easier as if we’ve cleared the air a tiny bit. “I’m going into the village to pick up some photography supplies from the post office. Do you want anything?”
I pick up a piece of bacon as gingerly as if it were an unexploded bomb.
I take a bite and just manage not to groan.
It tastes so good. Before I can stop myself, I spear a potato and put it in my mouth.
This time, I do let out a groan. When I look up, he’s watching me and smiling, and I point my fork at him. “Shut up.”
He starts to laugh and then sobers. “So, do you want anything?”
I look around helplessly. “I don’t have any clothes, do I?”
“I put the stuff you were wearing on the chair over there, and Dean went out and bought you a lot of clothes.”
“Oh yeah. I remember now. Well, I should be okay. He’s pretty thorough when it comes to that.” I shrug. “Some books, please. If I am to be stuck here with you, I’ll need something to mitigate your appalling personality.”
His eyes lighten even more. It’s a mystery to me why this man loves snark and sass so much. Then he touches his forehead in a salute. “Okay. Some books.”
“Will they have them here?”
“It’s Scotland. Not a village in the Middle Ages.” He hesitates, looking around. “Don’t have a shower yet. I want to be there when you do.”
“Pervert.”
He snorts. “In case you fall over. Don’t go wandering around. Just stay in bed today and rest and get your strength back.” He tsks. “Maybe I shouldn’t leave you.”
“Reuben?” He looks up. “I’ll be fine. I was cleared by the hospital.”
“Yes, but you’re still not yourself even if your sarcasm has made an early comeback.” He crosses himself. “Thank you for that, Baby Jesus.”
I make a shooing motion. “Off you trot. Leave me to my prison.”
He grins, and it’s wide and white and makes my heart hurt. “Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll get some groceries too. Anything you want to eat?”
I consider that. “My grandmother always made tomato soup when I was ill.”
“Was it flavoured with the tears of her disappointment?”
I snort. “Only on really special occasions.” I consider him. “You never approved of her.”
“I didn’t approve of the way she raised you to believe there was something wrong with you.” He shrugs. “I’ve waved a white flag with her anyway.”
I put my fork down, realising in horror that I’ve eaten half the breakfast. “What do you mean?”