Nudge 29 The Safe Space #2
‘I want to start my own business. Build something from the ground up, like Evie. I mean, obviously not like Evie’s.
I have an idea, but . . .’ He tails off.
‘I just want to do something that leaves my family with a legacy and keeps my mum and sister sorted for the rest of their lives. I have the plan – pages of it, ready to go. I just need to make the jump.’
‘What is it?’
He launches into a well-constructed, clearly deeply thought-out plan for a non-profit carpool/shuttle-bus service for parents whose children need lifts to and from activities.
He glows as he talks about it, radiating a passion so deep it burns a hole through the floor.
I feel it shine on me too, as hot as rays from the sun.
‘It sounds like you’ve got it all worked out. Have you started working on it?’ I ask.
‘It’s not the right time,’ he says, stalling.
‘Why not?’ I ask. ‘For someone who insists I dive right in, you’re being awfully wade-y.’
His laugh starts light, but sinks quickly into a bitter chuckle, twisting his smile into something far more introspective.
He sighs. ‘Every time I get close to taking the leap, I think about all that money, and how I might need it if something happens to my mum again.’ His eyes drop straight to the table, only taking a break to steal quick glances at my still, timid face.
I think back to my house, our Teams call, and my mum’s question.
‘How’s your mum? How was her surgery?’
I didn’t ask back then because it wasn’t my place.
We weren’t friends, were barely colleagues, and I had no right to know.
But now, as we sit here, after the night we just had, something has shifted.
It’s new ground – shaky ground – and I don’t know how even it is.
But I’ve got to try. He’s given me an in – I’ve got to take it.
‘Again?’ I ask, hoping he understands that I can’t manage more.
He does. ‘My mum had a heart attack, which, erm, led to some pretty bad complications.’ He takes a gulp of his wine, hand shaking ever so slightly.
It’s hard to tell whether the shake is from rage, sadness or both.
‘I got a call mid-seminar, booked a last-minute train ticket and was by her hospital bedside by lunch. It was rough. Really rough. “Say your goodbyes” rough.’
There’s a pinch in his throat through the last few words, so tight that he’s forced to break for air.
I want to squeeze him, ease the pain away and promise that he’ll be OK, but it feels far too intrusive.
Instead, I settle for a palm, stretched across the table.
He grabs it instantly, exhaling deeply as he squeezes it tight, and I trace soothing shapes across his skin with the pad of my thumb.
‘I felt like my world was going to end that day. Nothing mattered. Not school, not friends, not even Luce.’
I shift uncomfortably, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
‘All I could think of was my mum, and our house and my little sister, and what would happen if . . .’ He trails off.
‘I wasn’t ready to be her guardian and I’d never really thought about my future, but suddenly it was there.
I panicked. Hard. Ended up slumped on the waiting-room floor, trying to figure out why I suddenly couldn’t breathe. ’
‘I’ve been there,’ I whisper, recalling that day in the boardroom.
‘Yeah, I know,’ he says softly, ‘A nurse taught me that soothing technique, actually. I’m glad I was able to pay it forward.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ I say, mirroring his shaky but gentle smile. ‘So, what happened next?’
He swallows his smile instantly, face contorting back into that of a scared little boy. It’s so quick that it can only be muscle memory. He’s back in the room. Back reliving the worst day of his life.
‘She spent the next three, four months in and out of hospital. My dad’s not around, she can’t drive, and my sister was thirteen at the time, so I applied for extenuating circumstances and did the rest of the year from home.’
‘That’s a lot.’
It’s not nearly enough of a response, but I can’t help it – he’s stunned me. All these years and I had no idea.
‘Yeah, it was.’ He sighs, voice laced with resentment.
‘I can’t lie – it fucked me up for a while.
I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think of anything but my mum, and her heart, and how we were gonna survive.
I don’t think I slept for more than three hours at a time that next year.
And I sure as hell didn’t talk to anyone for three months straight. ’
‘So, your friends . . . ?’
‘Didn’t know. A lot of them still don’t, to be fair.
They’ve never been the best when it comes to the serious stuff.
But Lucy knew. She didn’t get it, and she hated how miserable the whole thing made me.
If I wasn’t with my family, I was busy arguing on the phone with her.
In fact, the only time I left my mum’s side during it all was a couple months in, when she forced me to visit her . . .’
‘During May Madness,’ I say.
‘Yeah . . .’ For a second, he looks back at me confused, before completing the puzzle for himself and snapping to life.
‘Oh, shit. I’m really sorry, I didn’t . . .’
‘Not right now,’ I say, trying to brush it back under the
carpet.
I thought I was ready to talk about it with him, but right now I can’t think of anything worse. Not after last night. Not after this greenhouse.
He shakes his head, searching deep into my eyes and forgetting about his troubles as he narrows in on mine. I can read his face without him speaking.
‘Maddison,’ he says.
‘I am over it, no point dwelling on it.’ I shrug, reaching for my glass and draining the contents. ‘How’s everything with your mum now?’
He pauses before continuing, less than happy but willing to concede.
‘Really good. We’re all good. Mum had open-heart surgery at the start of this year.
It was scary as hell, but she’s been thriving ever since.
And Sara’s smashing it, obviously – she takes after her brother.
Studying medicine at uni, wants to be a heart surgeon one day. ’
I can see a small smile return as he immediately untenses.
‘That’s really lovely,’ I say, my smile growing too.
‘Yeah. She’s my everything. They’re my everything,’ he says.
‘And I will do everything in my power to make sure they’re always secure.
It’s why, I don’t know, sometimes I think maybe the business thing should just stay a pipe dream.
I’ve got a secure thing here with Evie, and she’s finally starting to see my potential and consider me for promotions.
I reckon I’d make a pretty good manager someday. ’
‘You are a manager though – a talent manager is still technically a manager,’ I say.
He pauses.
‘Honestly, that’s just Evie-speak for personal assistant.
It’s a fancy title with no actual responsibility,’ he says.
‘In all my years with her, I’ve been waiting for a chance to show I’m worth more – that I can do more than just take her notes and run errands. So, when I got the Summer Splash . . .’
‘You knew it was your chance to prove yourself.’
‘Exactly,’ he says.
It’s like hearing my own diary parroted back to me. All the arguments and eye rolls and refusals to back out weren’t because he didn’t care, but rather because he did. He cared just as much as I did the entire time. He just had a different way of showing it.
‘And you almost gave it up.’ I search his eyes for an answer.
He shrugs into himself, clearly desperate to look away and drop it. But he doesn’t. He stays firm and continues to match my stare, his eyes glazed over with a wordless apology.
‘I was making you miserable and I knew how badly you wanted it too. I didn’t want to be the thing standing in front of your dream,’ he says.
‘But then she was so proud of our presentation, and my mood-board idea, and it was my first taste of seeing just how much I could do this. I didn’t think it would cause the reaction it did though – sorry. I genuinely am so sorry about that.’
‘I’ve told you already – the panic attack wasn’t about you.’
‘I know that now.’ He squeezes my hand tighter. ‘But at the time, I felt like I was ruining your life and I spent all weekend stressing about it. Maddison, please look at me when I say this. I never want to be the thing that makes you upset again.’
My eyes drop to the table, briefly overwhelmed by the beauty of this place, our conversation, and the warmth of his hand as it cradles mine, but even as I look down, I feel his eyes before I see them, burrowing into me with a stern but kind gaze.
The sheer force of it makes me dizzy – alcohol be damned.
I don’t think I will ever get used to the way he looks at me.
‘I brought you here, to this greenhouse, because I wanted you to see my favourite part of this place.’ He rises to his feet and beckons me to follow as he begins to conduct a mini tour.
‘It’s way out of bounds for any of her guests, so I can usually escape when the people or her parties get too much.
I tell her I need to go get more napkins . . .’
He stops at an old chest nestled in the corner and opens it to reveal endless stacks of napkins.
‘Genius,’ I say, nodding at the display. ‘But I can’t imagine you of all people needing to escape a party.’
Back at Winterdown, the words ‘Aiden Edwards’ and ‘party’ were synonymous. He was the life of each one and they could not happen without him. I’d come in on a Monday to endless retellings of Aiden’s exploits at yet another party I didn’t go to.
‘I like my alone time too, I’m just not snooty about it,’ he says teasingly, arm coming in for a playful pat.
I catch it on its way in, gripping his fist in my palm and staring back at his shocked little face.
‘Impressive,’ he says.
‘Thank you.’ I smile smugly. ‘And thank you for bringing me here. For sharing your secret escape with me.’
I drop his hand and make my own way around the space, ducking under low vines and twisting my way around the plants.
It’s like something out of a movie – a magical land of mystery, a world apart from whatever lies in wait outside.
He watches me as I wander through the foliage, sniffing flowers and stroking leaves on my way.
I turn around quickly, attempting to catch him in the act, but he owns his stare proudly, sauntering over and grabbing my hand in his.
We face each other, me looking up as he looks down, some magnetic force pulling us close.
I feel my lips part, teeth flashing to mirror his as best as I can.
It’s not the same, though. His smile makes my heart shoot through my chest.
‘I was kind of thinking that, maybe this time around, we could consider this our escape?’ He shrugs. ‘You know, a safe space that we could both run to if the Summer Splash gets too much.’
His hand shakes in my palm as he says it, eyes suddenly glued to the floor. He’s nervous – shy to share his place with someone else. I drop his hand, reaching for his chin and bringing it closer.
‘Will there be a picnic every time?’ I joke to ease the tension.
His jaw unclenches immediately, whole body relaxing as he shifts back into his naturally cool state.
‘If that’s what it takes, then so be it.’ He laughs with me before pulling me in for a triumphant kiss.