Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“FIGURE YOU OUT” BY VOILà
NOX
Idon’t miss the way Anatole stares after Blossom like she’s an angel come down to earth. I get it, she’s got some serious Mother Teresa shit going on. But I don’t trust it. Nope. In my experience, everyone has an ulterior motive. Every-fucking-one. Especially the beautiful ones.
She heads in my direction, but gives me a wide berth as she passes, and something in my gut churns.
I don’t like that she avoids me, though I can’t really blame her given how much of a dick I’ve been towards her.
Though it does reinforce my point that she’s just like all the others, she’ll probably leave just like everyone else. Only Ant and Steele have ever stayed.
There is something mesmerising about her as she gets all the kids seated and with food in front of them, making sure everyone has what they like, pouring drinks, moving through the chaos like a conductor.
“Here’s yours, Nox,” she says softly, and I find her in front of me, holding a box out. “There’s a seat next to mine, if you like?”
My mouth opens, then closes. “Uh, sure, thanks.”
Why am I suddenly so tongue tied? It’s just a fucking pizza. But I follow her around the table and the chattering kids, taking the seat next to hers, Steele on her other side and Ant next to me with Jus on his other side. Staring down, I realise that we each have our own pizza.
“We get one each?” I murmur aloud, glancing at her to find her cheeks that rosy color they seem to get so damn easy.
“Well, I, um, figured you guys are kinda big—” Her pretty hazel eyes widen in horror. “Well, not like big, but, you know, muscular, and must need to eat a fair amount to, um, upkeep all the muscles, um…” she trails off and why is she so fucking cute when she’s red as the tomato sauce on the pizza?
“Thank you, Flower,” Steele replies, his voice laced with amusement, and I stare at him. Flower?
“We should cover ours,” I tell her, knowing full well that would be most of the money we have left for the month. We normally only have pizza if one of us gets a job, and usually split two between the four of us at most.
“Oh, no, that’s okay. There’s really no need; my treat as a welcome to the house,” she says, taking a slice of plain cheese and tomato and taking a delicate bite. I’m surprised she’s not using a knife and fork and is getting her hands dirty. A thought hits me, making my stomach sour.
“Yeah, I guess you make a nice sum from fostering all these kids,” I accuse, hating myself a little for the harsh words. But it makes sense; why else would she not want to take any money?
“Oh, no, I don’t use any of that,” she replies, licking her lower lip before looking past me at Jus.
“I can go through all the details more tomorrow, but we’ll set you up a bank account, and half the money the state pays me goes into that, the other half my financial advisor George puts into long-term investments, in your name, so when you turn eighteen you’ll have a little nest egg for college or whatever you want to start your life with.
” My jaw hits the floor at her words. She takes nothing and then gives the money to the kids?
“The money in your account will be yours to spend however you like. We’ll have to get you a prepaid card because they don’t do debit for under thirteens.
And George will go through how you track your accounts and your investments, teach you about savings goals and all that numbers stuff which just flies from my brain.
” She gives a little self-deprecating laugh, as if not having a head for numbers makes what she’s offering any less extraordinary.
“I get my own money? To buy whatever I want?” Jus asks, Anatole staring down at his food, his hands trembling slightly.
“Yep. But they pay it monthly, and once it’s gone, it’s gone, so some of the others give themselves weekly spending amounts. But George can help you with all that; he’ll be here on Monday to take you through it all.”
“Wait, you do this for all the kids?” I ask, and she turns to look at me, delicate lines on her forehead.
“Of course, for the time they’re with me at least. Though the investment keeps earning interest, even if no more is put in it, so that it builds even if they move on.”
My pulse rushes in my ears, the world feeling a little unreal as I stare at her. Her brow dips. “Do you not like your pizza, Nox?” My name on her lips sends a shiver down my spine. “There’s some of the others if you’d prefer?”
Clearing my throat, I look away from her, opening the box and grabbing a piece. “Nah, it’s great, thanks.”
“Tell us about the pizza you had in Italy, Miss. Blossom, please,” one of the girls pleads, and Blossom laughs.
“You ask for that story every time we have pizza,” she chuckles, but they keep begging and she relents.
“Well, Tina and I were just walking around, and the streets of Naples are quite dingy but with the most extraordinary graffiti artwork covering the walls and wooden gates, which hide incredible monasteries full of beautiful artwork.” She sighs, and she paints such a vivid picture, I feel like I’m almost walking the streets with her.
“Well, we got hungry and came across this little pizza cafe. Plastic tablecloths, plastic cups for water, nothing special, but my goodness, when the pizza arrived…” she closes her eyes, kissing her fingers, and the children giggle, though I’m fixated on those lips.
The light catches the fairness of her skin, turns it warm gold, and I have to look away before I do something stupid like kiss her in front of everyone.
“It was only when I went to the bathroom that I noticed the Michelin star on the wall.”
“What’s a Michelin star?” Jus asks her, and she turns those stunning eyes on him.
“It’s something that only the best restaurants get, showing that their food is some of the greatest in the world. Very prestigious.”
“Can we go there on our summer break this year, Miss. Blossom?” Noah — the boy who hugged her earlier — asks.
“Oh yes, please! Can we?” a girl adds, Anna I think.
“I don’t see why not. How about we vote?
All those who want to go to Naples this summer raise your hand,” Blossom casually replies, like taking trips to Europe is ordinary.
I guess for someone like her, they must be.
Especially as she sounds like she comes from England.
All hands raise, including Jus, even though the kid doesn’t have a fucking passport.
“Well, that’s settled then. I’ll start making the arrangements. ”
A great cheer goes up that even lifts the corners of my mouth. What this woman so easily gives these kids, who I know have nothing, is… it leaves a lump in my throat.
She turns back to us, looking at Jus. “Do you have a passport, Justin?”
His face falls. “No.”
“That’s okay, I’ll add that to the list to sort out. How about you guys?”
“None of us do,” Anatole replies for us, and my fists clench. Passports are for rich people who have money to waste on holidays.
“Okay, we can get that sorted as well. We just need some ID; it’s not difficult—”
“We don’t have the money to pay for them, Bloom,” he interrupts her, color high on his pale cheeks. She opens that mouth, probably to offer to pay for them, but he beats her to it. “We can’t keep accepting your charity.”
Her eyes narrow in consideration, a small gleam entering them. “A loan then. I'll lend you the money to get them, and you'll pay me back when you can. I’m sure Justin would be much more comfortable having his brothers by his side for his first trip abroad, wouldn’t you?”
“Please, Ant?” Jus says, and I know we’ll do it, for him.
“Fine. But we will pay you back, understood?” Ant grits out, and she nods.
“Understood, Anatole.” Jesus. Heat flashes through me at her easy submission, and by the way Ant’s nostrils flare, it affects him too.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, and I can’t help agreeing.
I watch from the corner of my eye as she bites her bottom lip, clearly trying to hold back a smile.
“You’re a minx, you know that?” I murmur under my breath, watching as her cheeks flush once more.
“Yes, Nox,” she whispers and fuck me. The dinner table is not an appropriate place to get a boner.
The kids start to get antsy once most of the pizza is gone.
“How about you guys go find a movie while I show Justin his room, then he can join you if he likes?” Blossom suggests, turning to Jus.
“Cool. Don’t pick a rubbish one,” he instructs, and I roll my eyes. That kid has more attitude than even I do, and that’s saying something.
We help her clear up, putting the leftover pizza in a few boxes and carrying them into the kitchen.
It’s my first time here and once again my eyes feel like they’re bugging out of my head at how shiny and fucking huge it is.
There’s everything someone could want, plus some gadgets I’ve never even seen before, so who the fuck knows what they do.
Tina helps, then tells us she’ll supervise the kids while we go look at Jus’s room.
We follow Blossom down the hall, back to the entrance with the fuck-off chandelier.
She leads us up the central staircase, telling us that the house is Victorian, was built by her great-great-grandfather, and that her mother left it to her in her will.
Apparently she died when Blossom was only five, so she has very few memories of her.
“I moved from England to here when I was eighteen, so six years ago, and decided straight away that I wanted to start fostering. Well, it had been a plan of mine for a while, and Tina and Marie helped to make it happen,” she tells us as she takes us down another hallway.
“This is the kids’ wing; mine is on the other side of the stairs. And this, Justin, is your room.”
Reaching out, she grasps the ornate brass doorknob, opening the door to reveal a room that’s bigger than our tiny apartment on the other side of town.