Chapter 47
CHAPTER 47
EIGHT MEN STAGGERED past me, singing a painful homage to Ol’ Blue Eyes at the tops of their voices. One of them dropped the blow-up donkey he was carrying and spilled half his pint as he stooped to pick it up.
“Stupid plane’s late,” he slurred at me.
“I got that.”
I hated the airport in Sharm el Sheikh. I’d asked Sloane to book me on a scheduled flight because it seemed more sensible than sending a private jet to Egypt for just one person, but having spent three hours sitting in the departure lounge as it became ever more chaotic, that was a decision I very much regretted. The first hour had passed quickly—I’d spent it people watching, and there were some very odd people going through Sharm airport, let me tell you—but after that, the lack of edible food and clean toilets began to irritate me no end.
Then the check-in staff went on strike, followed by half of the ground staff. Nobody seemed to understand why. When I eavesdropped on their conversations, it appeared not even the staff on strike knew. My flight to the States was already an hour late when a garbled announcement over the Tannoy informed me a technical problem with the plane meant further delays. Judging by the row of maintenance staff I could see out the window, who had all downed tools and started praying to Mecca, it wouldn’t be taking off any time soon.
But not to worry, staff would be stopping by with complimentary bottles of water.
Fantastic.
The mob around the ticket counter was getting angrier by the second, and the nervous-looking man behind it repeated over and over that there were no seats left on any flights, anywhere. I backed away, thinking up plan B. Call for my jet? Try to charter a plane?
My gaze alighted on a backpacker lazing on the floor beside the duty-free shop. He’d brought his own picnic, and a well-thumbed copy of Treasure Island lay in his lap. He appeared to be the only person in the airport not sick of the bedlam.
I wandered over, crouched down beside him, and smiled. “Hey, where are you off to?”
Half an hour and two thousand dollars later, I sat in economy class, trying not to murder the toddler screaming in the seat behind me. Swapping the name on the ticket online had proved easy enough, and the backpacker decided to spend an extra week at the beach with his windfall.
“We’re flying into a slight headwind, so we should reach London in approximately five hours and twenty minutes,” the pilot said. “Temperature on the ground is nine degrees Celsius, and there’s currently a spot of rain.”
The child bawled louder.
In the cab from the airport, I tuned out the driver’s chatter and concentrated on the punchbag waiting for me when I got home. I’d already got Sloane to reschedule tomorrow’s meetings, and next week I’d be lucky if I got time to breathe. But tonight I was blissfully free. I’d spend an hour in the gym, and if Mack didn’t have plans, we could go out for dinner. According to Sloane, she was still in London.
The rusty taxi belched smoke as the driver sped off from Albany House, unhappy because I didn’t give him a tip. But when the inside of the vehicle smelled like McDonald’s and he’d talked non-stop about football all the way back from Luton, no way was I paying him extra.
I slammed the door and dumped my carry-on bag on the couch in the hallway. The oversized, decorative thermometer Bradley had installed next to the window told me the house was at nineteen degrees Celsius, so I turned the thermostat up a notch. I’d been freezing in a pair of denim cut-offs and a tank top ever since the plane took off.
Three steps up the stairs, I froze as a man’s voice called out from the kitchen.
“Sweetheart, is that you?”
Now, I could have sworn I recognised that voice. Except there was no way the owner of it should have been in my house, and even less way he should have been calling me sweetheart.
But it turned out my ears weren’t deceiving me. Because when I walked into the kitchen, I found a shocked-looking Luke Halston-Cain perched at the breakfast bar, drinking a cup of tea.
I spoke first as he seemed incapable. “Well, I can honestly say that if I’d had to make a list of people I expected to find in my kitchen today, your name would have been somewhere near the bottom of it.”
And judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting to see me here either. So who was “sweetheart?”
“Uh…what are you doing here?”
“Shouldn’t that be my line? I mean, last time I checked, this was my house.”
“Yes, I know. It’s just that Mack said you were on your way to the States.”
Interesting. He clearly knew my schedule. And he knew Mack. I was going to make a wild assumption here and say that Mack and “sweetheart” were one and the same. What on earth was going on?
“If you must know, my flight to Virginia got intolerably delayed, so rather than sit around for hours watching the sandals, socks, and shell suits brigade, I flew to London instead. Why are you here?”
“Er, I lent a hand with the search when I found out you were missing.”
“I called in five days ago, so that doesn’t explain why you’re still here. Or how you knew I was missing in the first place.”
“I ran into Mack after a meeting at Sector 8. I mean literally ran into her, because I wasn’t looking where I was going. The Tube drivers were on strike again, so I offered her a lift home, and we ended up here. That’s when I realised you’d disappeared.”
I supposed stranger things had happened. It wasn’t as far-fetched as the initial meeting between Black and me.
“Why did you offer to help?”
“I felt like I owed you one after you found Tia. Plus Mack told me you didn’t just call her up and invite her clubbing. She said you helped her out with a problem in the middle of the night the weekend before.”
Thanks, Mack. What else had she told Luke?
“Yes, there was a small issue, but it’s been resolved. Tia won’t make the same mistake again.”
“What happened?”
“That’s up to Tia to tell you, if she wants to.”
I thought he might push it, but he backed off. “For what it’s worth, thank you. For whatever it was you did. I can see how much you care about her.”
“She’s a great kid. So, the second part of my question. What are you still doing here?”
“Uh, Mack and I were helping each other with some computer programming.”
The front door opened and closed, and I heard the click of heels on the tiled floor. Seconds later, Mack stopped in the doorway, the tiredness etched on her face turning to dread when she saw Luke and me.
Dread with a hint of omigosh-what-have-I-done.
I’d seen that look before. Once when she arrived at my place in a cab, minus her underwear, unable to remember the name of the man whose apartment she’d woken up in. A second time after she got drunk and slept with the ex she’d found in bed with another woman two weeks earlier.
“Oh, Mack. You didn’t?”
“I-I-I thought you were going to Richmond,” she stammered.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Really, I can explain.”
“Please, I’m dying to hear it.”
She burst into tears and ran from the room. Oh, marvellous. Now I’d need to find tissues.
Luke swore under his breath and blocked me from going after her. “We didn’t mean for you to find out.”
“Were you going to try and keep it a secret? Because I’ll let you into a little secret of my own. I’m a great liar. Mack isn’t. Mack’s an open book. Anything that went on between you and her would have remained a secret for about two and a half seconds.”
“It only happened once, then Mack stopped it. Look, it was my fault, so don’t take it out on her.”
“Why did she stop it?”
“She was worried about how you’d react. She didn’t want to upset you. Because of our history.”
“It’s just that, Luke. History. We were never right for each other. You need someone like Ash. Sweet and docile, and that isn’t me. I’m anything but easy to live with when I haven’t lost my mind like I had when I was with you. No offence. Mack’s that, though. Sweet and docile.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Look, the time I spent with you, I was messed up in the head, and I ended up hurting you. I’ll always be sorry for that. So if some good can come out of that episode, and by good I mean you finding Mack, her making you happy, and you making her happy, then it might cancel out some of the rubbish that happened. So no, I’m not angry. If I was angry, you’d be lying on the floor right now, twitching.”
I watched a sliver of fear cross Luke’s features before I continued. “Mack’s one of my best friends, but unfortunately she’s also a magnet for the wrong kind of man. And I know from living with you that you’re the right kind of man. So I don’t care what the pair of you do together as long as you look after her. She deserves it.”
“She’s had trouble with men in the past?”
“Believe me when I say everyone will be relieved if we don’t have to pick up the pieces after another idiot. I should probably mention, though, that if you pull this stunt with her—bring another woman round and expect it to be okay—I’ll personally remove parts of you that you’re rather fond of and roast them on a spit.” I smiled sweetly. “Have you got that?”
My words had the desired effect. He gulped. “I-I-I won’t hurt her; I promise. I think I’ve fallen for her.”
Luke seemed surprised as the words left his mouth, but I could tell from his expression that they were true.
“Good.” I patted him on the cheek. “Now, smile for Pete’s sake.” I looked around the kitchen. “I need coffee.”
“I just made a fresh pot.”
“Okay, you can stay.”
I poured myself a mug of liquid caffeine then grabbed a box of Kleenex. Now, where had Mack gone?
Mack’s already pale face went a shade lighter when I walked into the music room. Was I really that scary? I mean, I didn’t even have a gun in my hand. All I had on me was the single knife I’d snuck through airport security in my bra. The dudes working the scanner missed that, although they did get spectacularly excited over a stray tampon in my pocket. That necessitated a conference before they decided it was harmless.
“I’m so sorry.” Mack started with the apologies before I’d even closed the door.
I sighed as I leaned back against Black’s piano. The smooth wood was cool against my back, its presence another reminder that I’d never hear Black play the ivories again.
“It was a twist of fate,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Enough with the apologising.”
A-w-k-w-a-r-d.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. We’d had too much to drink and things got out of hand.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Did he treat you okay?”
“Yes! More than okay. He was…”
I held up a hand. “Spare me the details, yeah?”
“Sorry.”
She hovered in front of the door, close to an escape route. Hmm, I needed to work on my interpersonal skills. Again. I walked over and hugged her, and after her initial surprise, she hugged me tightly back.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
She pulled back and stared at me. “You don’t mind?”
Sure it stung, but I wasn’t about to show her that. “When have you ever known me to get possessive over a man?”
“Well, never, but I haven’t dated one of your exes before. I mean, I know you’re okay with, say, Nick seeing other women, but none of them have been me or Dan.”
“I wouldn’t have a problem with you dating Nick, or Jed, or any of the others. Except Black.”
“But I thought you and he didn’t…you know? I thought he saw other women like you saw other men?”
“We didn’t, and he did.” I closed my eyes. “Somehow I could deal with the nameless, faceless women. The one-night stands and his little rescue projects. But if it had been you or Dan, that would have destroyed me.”
My voice was all lumpy, and I knew I’d said too much. I tried to walk away, but Mack squeezed me tighter instead.
“Oh, Emmy, I’m so sorry. You deserve happiness as much as anyone.”
“I exist to do a job. Being happy was never in my stars.” That was my life now. My job. I pulled back again, harder this time, fighting tears that threatened to erupt. “I’m going to the office now, and I’ll fly back to Richmond tomorrow morning.”
I ran upstairs and changed, then caught the Tube to Blackwood. Mack and Luke needed space, and they weren’t the only ones. It hurt to watch them have something I never would.
Work occupied me for the rest of the day, or at least I spent hours staring at my computer screen. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I pulled out the futon next to the desk and slept, my door firmly locked.
By the time the sun rose, I was in my jet, heading for the East Coast.