Chapter 56 #2
She’d be skint, because the ticket had cost nearly fifteen hundred dollars.
If she had to rent a room, which she might if Zane hated her coming here as much as Granddad had suggested, it could cost half that again.
She didn’t actually know. She hadn’t wanted to know.
London was terrifyingly dear, she knew that, and Zane’s hotel probably wasn’t in the slums.
Never mind that now. What you told Scarlett and Finlay was true. You make your choices and you take the consequences.
When the taxi pulled to a stop outside a Marriott that looked like, well, a Marriott, she could’ve wept with relief.
When she went through the revolving doors and the bellman looked at her oddly, she smiled at him and said, “Hello.” No sense losing her courage now, however messy her hair and however grimy her skin.
Not to mention that her male neighbor had spilled tea on her shirt and jeans during the flight.
Not his fault—there’d been turbulence—but still.
The jeans looked OK—denim was brilliant for that—but the white shirt had been the wrong choice.
Never mind, she told herself for approximately the thirteenth time. Then she pulled out her phone and rang Zane.
It went to voicemail.
OK. OK. Try again. She sat on one of the comfy plush lobby chairs, thought about that cup of tea, and rang him again.
Voicemail.
She picked up her backpack and headed to Reception, because she couldn’t think what else to do. “Hi,” she said when she got there. “I’m looking for my partner. Zane Mahuta. Can you ring his room for me, please?”
The woman looked at her skeptically. “I know, I know,” Skylar said. “I’ve just come off the plane. Thirty hours. Does that ever get easier? But—yeh. Zane. Can you ring him?”
“Have you tried ringing his mobile?” the woman asked.
“Yes. Of course. I got his voicemail. Please. Even if you think I’m a stalker, surely ringing his room isn’t dangerous.
It’s not like I’m asking you to tell me which one it is.
And seriously, would a stalker look like this?
Wouldn’t I have tried to glam up more for my anticipated All Black hookup?
It wouldn’t be enough to find him. I’d have to actually convince him to have sex with me, and I don’t think I’m—”
“Skylar?” Oh, how welcome was that word when you were making an utter fool of yourself.
“Gordon!” she said. “Hi. Hi. I’m so glad I found you.”
“To be fair,” he said, “I’d say that I found you.” As cheeky as ever, like nothing bad could touch him. “You look a bit, uh, tired. Just get in?”
“Oh, ‘tired’ doesn’t begin to describe how I look,” she said. “Yeh, just got here. Zane didn’t know I was coming. I’m putting that out there in case you don’t want to lend your aid to this endeavor. He can be a scary bloke, I realize.”
“I’m scared of my brother? Yeh, right,” Gordon said. Which was, yes, the response she’d hoped for. It seemed she could be manipulative even in extremis.
“D’you know where he is?” she asked. “I’ve rung twice and got voicemail. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me, but—”
“Are you joking?” Gordon said. “With how many times he’s dropped your name over the past few weeks? He said he was doing some shopping in Bond Street this afternoon. Day off, you know.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, uh … could you point me in that direction?” Her legs wanted to give out at the thought of wandering through some enormous shopping district whilst periodically ringing a man who might well have already come back here.
“Oh, wait. I could just sit here and wait for him to arrive. What time is it?”
“In London?” Gordon said. “Or Auckland?”
“In London. I have no idea what time it is in Auckland. No bloody idea at all.” She had to suppress an urge to giggle. She’d never done anything this ridiculous. It was either pathetic or funny, and it seemed she was leaning on “funny” as hard as she could.
“Four-thirty,” Gordon said. “If he stops for a bite somewhere, you could be sitting here for ages. Look. I’ll take you over there, and we’ll hunt him down.”
“Would you? Really? I’m not interfering with your own day off too much?”
“Nah. What’s a single bloke meant to do in London before the pubs start filling up? I’ve already shopped. The prices are shocking, though I did buy this jacket and jumper. What d’you reckon?”
“Chic,” she said. “The houndstooth is good with the brown. Tailored. Stylish. I think. I don’t actually know, but it looks good.”
“I’ll take that as a rave,” Gordon said. “Come on. We’ll find a taxi.”
It took Zane about an hour to realize his phone was still turned off.
That was how rattled he’d been. He only discovered it then because he decided to ring Skylar.
It would be six in the morning her time, but that was when she woke up, and she had all six kids to get ready for school without even Nan to lend a hand.
He got an extra helping of guilt for that. There she was, coping with all of that—for him—and he’d been that narky? He wished he could talk to her in person, but the phone was going to have to do. You couldn’t do this via text. He might be a Neanderthal, but he at least knew that.
The moment he switched the phone on, it rang in his hand. He registered the “2 Missed Calls” on the screen, though, and also that they said “Skylar,” so when he answered Gordon, it was to say, “Can’t talk right now, bro. Something to do first.”
“Never mind that,” Gordo said. “I’m here to meet you. If I knew where you were.”
“In Bond Street.”
“You told me that, genius. Where in Bond Street?”
“Chaumet. French place. I need some time, though. I’m—”
“I have no idea how to spell that,” Gordo said.
Zane told him. “Seriously, though, I—”
“Be there in … three minutes,” Gordo said. “Just around the corner. And don’t buy French clothes without me. You’ll look like a prat. That’s because you have no taste.”
“I have taste. Classic taste. Seriously? You’re coming, when I just said not to come?”
“Yeh, right. Classic as in ‘classic sheep farmer,’ maybe. Classic in no other way. Bloody hell, but there are a lot of people in London. The pavement’s as crowded as the beach on Boxing Day.”
“Yeh, bro,” Zane said. “That’s why they call it the Big Smoke. Because it’s actually populated. Could you try not sounding like some bogan from out in the backblocks?”
“Nah.” The voice wasn’t on the phone. It came from behind him. “Reckon you’ll have to take what you get, especially as you aren’t any better. I’ve done a wee favor for you anyway, though, despite what a grumpy bugger you are. Brought you a girl. I thought you might like one.”
Zane wasn’t listening anymore. That was because he had Skylar in his arms.
Once again, Skylar had no idea what she was feeling. Zane was holding her so tightly. Kissing her, then standing back to look at her, messy hair, stained shirt, and all. “How?” he asked, his grin huge. “How is this even possible? And why?”
“I just—” Skylar said. “I came. I thought you might—that you might need me. So I came.” She was crying, which didn’t add to her appeal much, but fortunately, Zane didn’t seem to care. “And I’m so glad to see you. I’m so …” Her hands running down his upper arms, then clutching him. “I’m so glad.”
“I’ll bugger off now,” Gordo said. “As nobody seems to want me, or seems willing to thank me for taking the time out of my day to reunite the lovers.” She didn’t exactly hear him, though.
Zane asked the shop assistant, “Do you have some chairs somewhere in here? Back showroom, maybe?”
The assistant—male, suave, and extremely well-tailored—looked Zane over in a French sort of way and said, “There are benches along the road, sir.”
Zane said, “Oh. Right.” He pulled out his wallet and put an American Express Platinum card on the counter. “I came in to buy my partner a wee gift, and here she is to choose it. But we need a minute or two first, as she’s crying.”
The assistant looked at the card, then at Zane. Zane picked up the card again, stowed it away, sighed, and said, “Rough as guts, I know. I’m here for the rugby. With the All Blacks. Does that get us a couple of chairs?”
The man still looked dubious, but he said, “Come with me, please,” and took them into a second showroom, where he told another man, “The gentleman would like a minute to rest with the lady before purchasing.”
“Yeh,” Zane said. “I would. I reckon this is where you hide the good stuff. Got some nice things back here, though.”
The second man looked pained, but waved them into seats. He also brought out two small water bottles and handed them over.
“Cheers,” Zane said, twisted the top off one, and gave it to Skylar. “We’ll be ready in two ticks.”
“Stop it.” Skylar was trying not to giggle. It wasn’t quite working. “Are you trying to sound like a sheep farmer?”
“Apparently,” Zane said, “as the comparison’s already been made. I’m bloody glad to see you. You OK, though? Kids OK? What’s wrong?”
She waved a hand. She was halfway between crying and laughing. She was also a bit lightheaded. “The kids are fine. They’ve got themselves into a bit of grief defending your honor, though. Both Scarlett and Finlay.”
“What?” He was blinking.
“The media? The injury? And you know what kids that age are like. Scarlett laid into three of them, and Finlay dove in to help. He has a black eye and Scarlett got a bloody nose, but they’re pretty proud of themselves.
And picking up rubbish in the schoolyard all week for their sins.
But how are you? That’s what I came for.
I couldn’t help it. I know you’d have said not to, but I just—”
She couldn’t say any more, because he’d grabbed her and was kissing her again, and her hands were on his face, his shoulders.
Trying to hold him tighter, to hold him better, as he was doing the same thing.
“I’m bloody glad you’re here,” he said. “And stop looking at that bloke. We’re going to spend money, no worries. ”
“I wasn’t—” she began, then didn’t know how to go on.
“I’ve felt like such a fool for at least half the journey.
I was afraid you’d be angry, that you wouldn’t understand.
I know you need to … to process things yourself first before you share them with me.
If I hadn’t, Granddad’s put me right, no worries.
I know that you don’t always want to talk things over in the way I do.
But don’t you see how much it hurts me to know you’re hurting and not to be able to talk to you?
Not to know whether you’re even OK?” She was searching his craggy, lined face now.
He had a bruise on his forehead and another on his cheekbone, and nobody had ever looked better. “How are you? Really?”
“Better,” he said. “Much. Smithson’s had his surgery, and he has the use of his arms and legs.
Very nearly a miracle, or maybe just a miracle of training and discipline.
He had a dislocation in his neck. The doctors said they’d had another like it just last week, and that bloke’s in a wheelchair and going to stay there.
But Smithson’s got that bull neck. About as wide as his head, and his back’s the same.
Doctors said all the muscle kept the bone from dislocating further.
Held it in place, almost. He’ll have a road ahead of him, but he’s going to be walking down it, not rolling.
Looks like he’ll even play again, if it goes as well as they hope. He’s bound and determined to, anyway.”
“That’s—that’s wonderful,” she said. “That’s wonderful. But how do you know?”
“Went to see him in hospital. This afternoon, in fact. Why I had my phone off. He’s in one of those hard braces and will stay in it for at least a couple of months, but he’s good.
They’re letting him out of hospital tomorrow or the next day, he says.
You know he’s hoping it’s tomorrow. Nobody ever got their fitness back in a hospital bed. ”
“I’m so glad. I wish I had better words to say how glad.
And I’m sorry I pushed too hard on the phone.
I rang you before you were even awake, and then I pushed too hard.
And I just didn’t—” Her eyes had filled with tears again.
“I thought—what if he needs me, and I’m not there?
I could at least be there, even if he—even if you don’t want me. I could at least be here in case.”
“I’ve never been gladder to see anyone,” he said. “I was waiting until you’d be awake so I could ring you. Apology, eh. Sometimes, texts aren’t nearly good enough.”
“Yes. Yes. And I have to go home tomorrow. I know you’re training and you can’t spend time with me after today, and that’s OK. It seemed I had this one grand gesture in me, though, and I had to make it.”
“Well, good,” he said. “Because I have to make one too. Let’s look at pendants, since we’re here. I think I’ve found the right one, but it needs approval from the wearer. After that, we’ll go get you a hotel room. A bath and dinner, what d’you reckon?”
“Definitely. A bath, dinner, and bed. I could fall asleep on you again, fair warning. But I’ll wake up again. Because, oh, Zane. I’ve missed you so much. And I love you.”
“At least wait to say that until I’ve bought you this thing,” he said. “Because I love the shit out of you, Skylar Fairburn.”
“And I’m head over heels for you,” she said.
“Which would’ve been a much better way to put it. Oh, well. If I have my way, you’ll have plenty of time to put me right.”
“Because I’m a Year One teacher,” she said, smiling foolishly. “And used to boys.”
In answer, he kissed her again.
A man of few words, but she’d take him. Every time.