Chapter 47
Balaclava man returned again that morning. Kate had dared hope it was over after his absence the day before, but her heart dropped into her trainers when she came downstairs at a little after seven to find he’d already been and sabotaged the front door.
As she’d cleared away the mess, Kate considered whether it was time to involve the police; she couldn’t allow this abuse to go on indefinitely.
Balaclava man might eventually get bored and stop, but then again he might get frustrated by her lack of response and escalate his behavior.
A brick instead of a trifle, perhaps, or something worse.
She flicked through the latest pictures from Portugal, her heart full at the sight of them all looking so relaxed.
Sandy toes and sunburned noses, a shot of all of them pointing at Liv’s belly, her hands pressed over her face as she laughed.
The thought of her sister walking back into trouble turned her blood cold.
—
“Did someone order lunch?”
She looked up as Charlie came through the shop door with a brown paper bag in his hand a little after midday.
His latest text had let her know he was back in the country, but he hadn’t mentioned coming over.
She tried not to notice his deepened L.A.
tan, and she didn’t love the way her body reacted to the unexpectedness of him being there.
The quickening of her breath, the warm flush on her neck.
“Depends what it is,” she said.
He placed the bag on the counter in front of her.
“How have you been?” he asked.
She lifted one shoulder. “Busy. Liv’s on holiday so I’m minding the shop for her.”
He nodded. “You look tired.”
The truth about what had been happening hovered in her throat, desperate to spill out. “How was L.A.?”
His jaw tightened. “Same as it always is.”
“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been beyond Europe.” She knew she was being obtuse, and she didn’t like herself for it.
“I came to tell you that you won’t be asked to have any further involvement with the book. No one is going to lean on you for interviews or appearances.”
Kate all but laughed. “Oh, that’s good, then, I’m glad I’ve served my purpose.”
He faltered, frowning. “That isn’t what I meant.”
She shrugged, tired. “I’m sure it wasn’t, Charlie.
I’m glad the book has been such a success, I truly am.
The author wrote something beautiful and readers love it, so you can all give yourselves a big old pat on the back for a job well done.
” She paused. “Hey, here’s an idea—you could even write a rom-com about it with your ex-wife. ”
He looked as if she’d slapped him, and she closed her eyes and sighed.
“Sorry,” she said. “You’re right, I’m tired and cranky.”
For a moment she thought he was going to leave, but he pushed the brown bag toward her instead. She looked at it, and then at him, then sighed and unraveled the top. The smell hit her first, taking her straight back to Cornwall.
“Cornish pasties,” he said.
“I see that,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I was kind of hoping we could talk,” he said.
She’d been feeling so alone over the last few days, his quietly spoken request was enough to soften her resolve. Crossing the shop, she flipped the sign to Closed and dropped the latch.
—
Liv had the smallest of courtyards shoehorned in behind the shop, a tiny sun-trap she’d made the most of with a bench and a couple of potted plants.
It served them well as a place to escape to with a sandwich, or a Cornish pasty with your agent who you just happen to have slept with.
It might have been a blank page in their story, but she was having a hard time deleting it from her head as they sat either end of the bench with the brown paper bag between them.
“Liv’s pregnant,” she said.
“Wow, that’s big news,” Charlie said.
She nodded. “That’s why she’s away, getting over the shock.”
“Have you been all right here on your own? No runaway T-Rex’s giving you grief?”
“No.” She looked down, ripping the paper bag open, suddenly so overwhelmed with the need to off-load that she couldn’t meet his eyes.
He put his head on one side, studying her. “Sure?”
“For God’s sake, Charlie, I said everything’s fine, okay?” she snapped, tipping her head back to stop the tears gathering in her eyes from falling.
“It clearly isn’t,” he said. “Talk to me.”
She looked at him fully then, hating the fact that the tears were sliding down her cheeks.
“What do you want me to say? Congrats on your movie deal? I’m pissed off that my daughter is being comforted by my ex-husband’s lover?
I hate that you left the bed we were sharing to sit on the balcony and text your ex-wife?
I’m scared my sister might lose the baby because she’s so stressed about all the shit that’s been happening with the book?
I’m being terrorized by a guy in a fucking balaclava defacing the shop every morning and I don’t have a bloody clue how to make it all stop?
” She threw her hands up in the air, then stomped back inside the shop and stood with her back rigid against the wall, her hands pressed over her face.
Charlie followed her in, and pulled her hands down to look in her eyes.
“There was a lot there, and we can talk about all of it at some point, but a guy in a balaclava? What guy?” He was still holding on to her hands.
“I don’t know who he is,” she huffed. “He comes early every morning and throws food at the door, smearing it with his hands sometimes. I confronted him the other day and he threw it in my face.”
“Fucking hell, Kate, you should have told me,” he said, his tone harsh.
“Why? You were on the other side of the world, and I don’t know if you’re even my agent anymore. The book’s done with, you said so yourself.”
“I’m not just your goddam agent,” he muttered, letting go of her hands to grip her shoulders instead. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She was furious with herself for crying. “I need to make it all stop before Liv gets back. She’s under doctor’s orders to stay calm for the baby’s sake. She’s always been protective over me, but it’s my turn to protect her now. And the baby.”
“We go to the police,” Charlie said, sure. “Right now.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. They’d involve Liv, it’s her shop.”
“Maybe she needs to be involved, it sounds as if someone has a grudge. A pissed-off customer?”
Kate looked at the floor. “It’s trifle, so I think we can safely assume it’s book-related.” She felt ridiculous.
“Jesus.” Charlie closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face.
They stood in fraught silence. “Just go,” she said, weary. “It’s my problem to solve.”
He reached out and took her face between his hands. “Is it fuck. I’m not going anywhere.”
She stared into his cola-dark eyes, so close she could see the sunburst whiskey shards, and she leaned into him, because she was exhausted and she’d wanted to tell him every day, and she was sick of keeping up the pretense.
The heat of his body warmed hers, and his hands softened from a grip to cradling her jaw.
“You’re not on your own anymore. Let me help you.”
Kate let her face rest against his palm and finally allowed herself to feel relief. She’d been turning things over in her head all morning, an idea forming that would be much easier with Charlie’s help.
“There is one thing you could do,” she said. “Get me back on the sofa with Ruby and Niall.”