The Jump #2
The pieces start to connect – the rescheduled meetings, the menial tasks, the fact that I’m still a PA four years on despite making it clear that I want more .
. . It isn’t Abbingtorn, it’s Pippa. She’s the thorn in my side, blocking my blessings left and right.
I should be angry or shocked that the thing I’ve assumed has finally come to light as truth.
But all I can do is giggle at the flushed face of the man in front of me.
I haven’t seen this side of Gus before. Other than the ‘predictable’ comment, I wasn’t aware he had opinions of me at all.
I guess work colleagues can be strange – sometimes they become your best friends and sometimes they stay strangers you work with every day, but know nothing about.
Maybe if Gus and I had talked to each other more, we could have been the type that were friends.
Maybe this last month of my notice could be the first step we need to at least band together against a common enemy.
‘I’m gonna miss you, Gus,’ I say, and, honestly, I mean it.
He smiles softly. ‘I’m gonna miss you too, Maddison.’
We can’t hug again – the first hug was weird enough; it’s not us and we’re not there yet – but we exchange two small, knowing nods as we match each other’s gaze. It feels light and new; the start of something that could be nice. A connection with someone who truly gets it.
‘Don’t be a stranger,’ he says.
‘I’m here if you ever need to rant.’ I return his smile. ‘Now, have you seen Aiden? It’s important.’
He springs back to life, startled by my new jump to action.
‘Yeah, erm . . .’ He frantically searches his tipsy mind for clues. ‘He said something about getting more napkins. But that was a while ago and there are loads beside . . .’
I am gone before Gus has time to finish his sentence, speeding down the hill to the bottom, heels be damned. I should’ve known he’d be there – he told me he would be. I burst through the doors of the greenhouse, past the vine arch and find Aiden perched on top of the napkin chest.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks.
With the way he changed the schedule, I haven’t seen him in his party outfit yet. He’s in smart trousers and a crisp, aqua shirt, the exact colour to compliment my dress. It’s deep, soft and beautifully inviting – the complete opposite to the burning anger painted across his face.
I don’t dare look away, taking in all the rage while I let Evie’s words play through my mind. This isn’t over. He cares about me. I can fix this. I just need to try.
‘You scare me,’ I say.
The words come out as more of a strained pant, as I’m still catching my breath from the run. But they come out, which is the part that truly matters. I’ve made a start. I’ve laid the first brick of our bridge. He gives me a confused look, before anger clouds his features again.
‘OK, cool, I scare you. We done now?’ he asks.
‘No, we’re not,’ I say, moving closer as my breath starts to steady.
‘We have been at war for years and yet I am addicted to your smile. That scares me. You make me bolder and brighter, and push myself so much harder, and, honestly, that scares me too. But I have learnt in the last six months, that sometimes the things that scare you are the things that help you grow as a person.’
The words flow out of me this time, that flame of hope forcing them out, lighting the path. He looks up at me, face still stony but so much less angry as he moves to stand in front of me.
Up this close, I can practically taste each note of his aftershave.
I’ve missed this. I’ve missed him. I can’t lose us again.
He takes my arm, sending a volt of electricity through my skin and directly up my spine.
I have to chew on my bottom lip to keep myself grounded and keep the butterflies at bay.
‘Do you remember what you said to me in the back of the taxi? The night we were getting back from the La La Lounge?’ he asks.
I shake my head. I blacked out that portion of the night. Knowing what alcohol does to my internal filter, that’s probably for the best.
‘All this time, I couldn’t tell if you didn’t remember or if you were just trying to pretend,’ he says.
‘Was it that bad?’ I ask, grimacing at the thought.
I was peak hatred – I could have said anything back then.
He keeps his expression neutral, but there’s a light hint of a sparkle in his eyes, indulging in the way that I squirm as I await a response to my evident worry. He doesn’t give too much away, but he does edge closer, leaning over so we’re both nose to nose.
‘Well, we’d both had loads to drink, so I figured I’d take the chance while I could and ask you why you hated me so much, after all these years.
’ He pauses to check if it triggers anything for me, but it doesn’t, as much as I wish that it did.
I can’t think of anything right now but him and this moment.
‘There was, of course, the chunk where you kept calling me the worst and insisting that hating is just what we do . . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
I can’t even try to defend myself. It’s the exact kind of thing that I would have said.
‘Don’t apologise yet. There’s more.’ His lip is curling, tone lightening as he chuckles a little and cups my chin.
‘You told me that I had ruined your life in the worst possible way because I had made you realise that there was more to life than just achieving things. That impressing me meant just as much to you as achieving your goals. And that you knew that I’d never know what that felt like because I didn’t even notice you. ’
A wave of cringe runs through my body from head to toe, chilling me to my core.
‘I was drunk,’ I say.
‘And it made you honest. I like honesty.’
He stops again, his thumb diverting from the patterns it was drawing on my cheek to gently circle the shape of my lips. I inhale deeply, lips parting almost on cue and willing him to move closer. He considers it briefly, before swallowing deeply and snapping back into focus.
‘So, here’s some honesty from me,’ he says, hand firmly in place. ‘You were wrong. I don’t remember when it was that you became more important to me than air, but I pushed it down further and further, and hoped it would disappear because I never thought I was or could ever be good enough for you.’
‘You don’t mean that,’ I whisper, searching for a trace of insincerity in his eyes.
He continues. ‘I begged Evie to let you run this project alone at first. I knew that if I spent this much time with you again, those feelings would come flooding back. Every day that you’ve been back in my life, my feelings for you just kept growing stronger. I love you, Maddison.’
There it is.
The four words I swore I’d never hear him say. I love you, Maddison. Just like that. Clear and honest, and all for me. It’s everything that I didn’t dare to let myself dream of as I struggled through my teen years next to him.
‘You’re awfully quiet,’ he says nervously.
I can’t help it; it’s all too much. He loves me. Aiden Edwards loves me.
But, after everything I’ve been through today, my brain has too much to process.
‘I quit this morning. Gave Pippa my letter of resignation in the car,’ I say, the words rushed.
‘You what? Maddison!’
He doesn’t get mad at the change of subject, or the fact I haven’t said I love him back. He’s too caught up in my happiness, grabbing my arms and squeezing them tight in triumph.
‘It was long overdue.’ I’m still in shock.
‘And perfect timing!’ He whirls me around, rejoicing. ‘I don’t know if you’ve chatted to Evie yet, but—’
‘I turned down the co-head position too,’ I say.
He halts instantly, my shaky words wiping the elated smile clean off his face. He drops his arms from their hold and goes to rub the back of his head in distress.
‘Maddison, what? I know the last month or so has been weird and we had the whole agreement and everything, but you have to know that I wouldn’t actually want you to turn down your dream job.’
I smile at his sincerity. ‘It’s not because of you, or the bet, or the last few weeks. It’s because of me. For me. I need time to figure out who I am without deadlines, or structure. What I want outside of achieving rigid, unnecessary goals.’
‘And you told Evie that?’
‘I did. Earlier today. I had a whole rehearsed speech to ensure that I actually went through with it, and then I saw her face and forgot it all instantly,’ I say. ‘It didn’t help that I’d been crying over you like ten seconds before.’
‘Really?’ he asks, sinking back down onto the napkin chest.
‘Yeah, but, somehow, I managed to say something. And once I was done pouring my heart out to her, she laughed in my face.’
It’s his turn to do the same, apparently. His guffaw bounces off the glass, echoing around the walls and filling the space between us. I think back to that room, and how she flicked her hair behind her, looking down at me kindly with a puzzling yet deeply comforting smile.
‘Maddison, honey, I get where you’re coming from and I truly do love this journey for you,’ she said.
‘But you don’t have to blow up your entire life to figure out who you are and what you want to be.
In fact, by the looks of it, you’ve done a lot of that work in the last few months without having to give up anything.
It’s OK to want things. It’s OK to have goals.
You just need to put less pressure on yourself to achieve them.
From what you’ve said, the problem with your five-year-plan wasn’t the content at all, but rather the timeline. ’
I snap my focus back to Aiden.
‘Sounds like Evie,’ he says. ‘She wants you on the team so badly, she was not taking no for an answer.’
‘You’re right – she did not. She told me to take three months.
Spend some time with myself and figure things out before I join the team.
Apparently, there’s this guy I’ll be heading the department with who’s pretty capable of managing until I start.
I’m not so sure though . . . Don’t tell Evie, but he sounds kind of cocky. I don’t think I’ll like him much.’
He chuckles, this one deep and hearty, filled with the joy and comfort I’ve come to crave since we stopped talking. He rises from his seat, walking towards me until we’re toe to toe, his breath tickling the skin on my face.
‘Any plans for your time off?’ he asks, his lips brushing lightly against mine as he speaks.
‘No idea, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out. I’m pretty well-known for going with the flow nowadays,’ I say teasingly.
His mouth parts widely, throwing his head back to laugh before bringing it down until we’re nose to nose.
‘You know, I hate to say it, but I think that you actually may have won this bet,’ he says.
I raise an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know . . . Your organisation impressed me. Didn’t you say you went as far as your own five-year-plan?’
‘That I did,’ he says. ‘But it wasn’t nearly as detailed as yours. In fact, there was only one thing I wanted to achieve.’
He breaks us apart yet again, reaching for his pocket and pulling a torn-out sheet from a space in his wallet. He unfolds it carefully before taking my hand and sliding it gently into my palm.
In five years’ time, whatever I’m doing, I’d better be doing it with Maddison Clarke by my side.
I sigh. ‘Aiden.’
‘Don’t,’ he says, snaking his arm round my waist and pulling me in until we’re chest to chest. ‘We’ve done enough talking. Just promise to help me achieve it.’
His lips brush against mine again as he speaks, each movement so deliciously teasing. But I’m done with the teasing – I cannot take it any more. I grab the back of his head, our lips crashing together with more urgency than ever before.
Our first kiss, and every kiss that followed, was incredible, life-changing in so many ways, but this one is something else.
This one is propelled above by its extraordinary level of honesty.
I am kissing Aiden Edwards, the man whom I love.
The man whom a part of me has always known that I love.
And now I know that he loves me too. Loves me with every stroke of his tongue and every teasing bite of my lip. I pull away from him slightly.
‘What?’ he asks as he pauses to study my face.
Beneath the swollen lips and flushed complexion, I assume I must look quite bemused. I can’t help it.
‘This dress is very structured, so we have to be careful with sudden movements,’ I say with a small smile. ‘But, seriously. I just can’t believe this is us. This is where you and I have ended up.’
He smiles sweetly, the two of us exchanging giddy looks of disbelief before he looks me up and down again, hunger returning.
I sink to my knees in front of him, eliciting a pre-emptive sigh, before I reach behind him and snatch a handful of napkins from the cabinet.
I rise and flash a triumphant smirk at his stony expression.
‘Come on, we have an event to run,’ I say, holding out my hand.
He huffs a laugh and reaches out, his fingers slotting perfectly between mine. I give his hand a small squeeze, a silent promise that whatever happens next, I won’t be letting go.