Chapter 17
seventeen
“Are you sure about this?”
I pause in the act of putting my wallet in my jeans and look at Julian. He’s sitting at the breakfast bar with his laptop open in front of him, but all his attention is on me.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“So why do it?”
“Because I have to.”
“Why?”
I try a playful tone. “Aren’t you just full of questions this morning?”
“Better than being full of bullshit.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’re about to tell me that you need to see Mac because you’re so cross he intruded in your life and tried to save your brother.”
“Is that voice meant to be me?” I say indignantly.
He carries on remorselessly. “But the reality is that really you want to see him, and this is the perfect excuse. You’re just covering it up in all this faux outrage because you’re an idiot.”
I slump onto the stool beside him and stare at the cupboards sightlessly. “If you’re my conscience, I have to say you’d make a terrible Jiminy Cricket. He never swore or called Pinocchio an idiot.”
“The book would have been a lot shorter if he had. And the thought of being your conscience is too horrifying to contemplate. I’d have cut your strings within thirty seconds of knowing you.”
He taps away on his laptop, obviously dismissing me, so I wait a few seconds and then nudge him.
“What?” he snaps. “Wes, I’ve got things to do this morning. Our exam results come out at lunch, and I can’t deal with you fidgeting like a grasshopper on speed.”
“You can’t end it there with your advice.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because… Because?—”
“Goodness, I can see why you were at the top of our class.”
“Numbers I’m fine with. Words are hard.”
“So is falling in love with your client, Vivian Ward.”
“That film was so crap. It never prepared me for this.”
“Write Julia Roberts a letter of complaint.” He turns on his stool and contemplates me, his blue eyes intense. “Do what you must, but at least be honest with yourself.”
“I try never to do that before breakfast.”
“You fell in love with Mac.” I open my mouth to argue, and he points a judgey finger at me.
“You did. And you think he didn’t love you back.
” That hurts, and my flinch is far too noticeable.
His eyes soften. “You made a snap decision to leave when you were scared and in pain, and that’s totally understandable.
Except now you miss him and want to find a way back to him, but it’s completely hopeless because according to you he doesn’t want you in any capacity apart from the hooker element. ”
I return to the interesting bit. “What do you mean I think he doesn’t love me back?”
“Oh, you heard that bit.”
“ Julian !”
He shrugs. “It’s my opinion that he’s got feelings.”
“Yes, he feels very strongly about my arsehole.”
“Well, it’s not your scintillating wit, that’s for sure.” I snort, and he taps his finger on the counter, his eyes intent. “The fact that he’s done all this for your brother speaks volumes. He’s not the type of man to do that.”
“How do we know that, though? We were wrong about him never having an arrangement like he had with me. The reality is that he was an old hand at that.”
“I actually think the fact Mac had a prior arrangement with Brandon bugs you more than being beaten up under his watch.”
“The assault wasn’t his fault at all,” I say crossly.
“Does he know that?”
“What do you mean? Of course, he does.”
“I’d be very sure about that if I were you. It’s not good to try and read someone’s mind. Put it this way, I’d rather read Jeffery Dahmer’s mind than yours.”
“I do believe he cares for me.” I pause. “Mac. Not Jeffery Dahmer.”
“Thank you so much for clarifying that.”
“But it isn’t enough for me. I’m greedy.”
“You’re not. You deserve the best.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He sighs. “Maybe make a note of it then because I’m not repeating it.” He looks at me sternly. “Whatever I say, you’re still going to meet him.”
“If you could, would you stop me?” I ask curiously.
He considers that and then shakes his head. “No, I think you should let this play out.”
“That’s it?” I say as he goes back to his laptop.
He smiles. “What more do you need?”
“Nothing. Of course, I need to talk with him. I can’t believe he did this. He had no right to interfere in my life. I’m not his pet charity project.”
“Ah, we’re back to that, and the world has completed yet another turn. What joy!” I stand up, and he regards me. “What about our results? Are you meeting me at the university?”
I make for the door. “No. I’m working, so I’ll log in online. Are you worried?”
“Of course not,” he says in blatant astonishment.
“I wish I had your certainty in life.”
“It isn’t possible with your talents.”
“And this is why I love you.” I lean in and kiss his cheek.
He shakes his head. “What was that for?”
“For being my best friend.”
He can’t help the startled pleasure in his eyes but covers it with, “I am pretty super, aren’t I? The best out of everyone.”
“See you later, champ.”
“Wes.” I turn at the door. “Listen to what he has to say.”
“Whatever could he have to say that would make me change my mind that he’s in the wrong?”
“I cannot even begin to imagine.”
Julian’s words stay with me as I pace the pavement.
I look up at the entrance to the park. It’s opposite the flat Mac put me in.
If I turn I’d be able to see my old balcony, but I refuse to look up at it.
It’s too painful. I keep my attention on the park.
In all my time at the flat I never visited.
It’s a bit ironic that I’ve chosen to do it now.
I check my watch again, but it appears to have stopped.
I hold it to my face and shake my wrist, huffing when another minute clicks over.
It is working. It’s just the time in my world that seems to have stopped.
I slide my hand into my jean pocket. The fake wedding ring is still there. I’d considered sending it back to him when I left but I just couldn’t do it. Now I carry it everywhere with me, and it’s come to feel like a talisman—as if some of his protection has seeped into the warm metal.
I resume my pacing. My belly is clenched tight, and I don’t know whether it’s caused by anger at Mac or nerves at seeing him again.
Seeing him last night had managed to undo all the good work I’d done in the past month.
I’d bolstered my heart, persuading myself he was a cold bastard who wasn’t worth my tears.
Then one look at him had torn down that tower of shitty lies.
He’s just a man—flawed and damaged but still kind. I can’t hate him even if I want to.
But I am still angry. Julian might say it’s a cover, but he doesn’t know the mixture of shame and embarrassment that makes my stomach churn like a washing machine.
It’s bad enough that he paid me for sex, but now he’s rescuing my gambling addict of a brother.
It’s a shame Jeremy Kyle is off-air now, because we’d have been a surefire hit on that show.
I rub my neck, feeling like someone is watching me.
When I turn around, I see Mac standing a few feet away from me, his eyes intent.
I greedily take in his appearance. He’s wearing another of his expensive suits, this one charcoal grey, and his hair shines as dark as a blackbird’s wing in the sunshine.
He’s watching me just as hungrily, his eyes avid.
He slides his hands into his pockets. The move draws the material of his trousers tight over his thighs and groin, and I swallow hard at the memories that fill me. I feel hungry, angry, and yearning. It’s not a comfortable mix.
“How long have you been there?” I say hoarsely.
He shrugs. “A few minutes.”
“Why didn’t you shout me?”
“I wanted to watch you,” he says simply.
I groan. “You can’t say things like that.”
Humour lights his tired eyes for a second. “Why not? You’re fascinating.”
“You know why.”
The smile dies away, and he nods at the park entrance. “Shall we walk?”
I nod and fall into step next to him. The park is busy with joggers and mums pushing prams. A small playground is full of children, their happy screams reaching us as we walk.
In unspoken agreement, we take a path away from the public and walk a little longer in a silence full of a charged energy. I’m frantically trying to prop up my anger, so I don’t feel the yearning for him. I don’t know what he’s thinking. Maybe I never did.
That dark thought makes me stop dead on the path. “Why?” I ask.
He stops beside me, making no pretence at not knowing what I’m talking about. “Because.”
“Because what? Why did you do that for Tyler?” A thought strikes my brain like a bolt of lightning, and a number of things suddenly make sense. “Oh god. That’s not all you did, is it?”
He hesitates, suddenly cautious. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t just find him and put him in a clinic, did you?”
He scratches his chin in a rare sign of nerves. Then he looks steadfastly at me. “You know I didn’t.”
Things are coming together. Tyler’s absence. The lack of trouble. The surety behind his texts that he was okay.
“Oh my god,” I say slowly. “He’s been staying with you.” He nods, and the shock takes my breath away. “At your home ?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t invite people to your home. I don’t even know where you fucking live.” For some reason, this feels like a massive betrayal, and I don’t know why and don’t have the time to figure it out.
He swallows. “Would you like to?” he says hoarsely.
I point my finger at him. The thought that Tyler was at his house—a place where Mac wouldn’t take me—is obliterating everything else. “Don’t even offer that. It’s too late for that shit.”
He flinches, and I catch my breath. How is it that by hurting him, I’m hurting myself? It doesn’t make sense. Love is fucking awful.
I take a few steps away, running my hands through my hair, aware of him watching me. His gaze is hungry and so sad that it makes my heart ache. I take a breath and then another. “Why did you do it?”