Chapter 8 #7
‘Whatever you say.’ Owen grinned. ‘If it’s any consolation, Kate was upset because you didn’t turn up for dinner. I was just trying to cheer her up.’
‘Really?’ Will said, brightening. ‘She was really upset?’ He knew he shouldn’t find the idea so cheering but he couldn’t help it.
‘Yeah, she’d made you this special birthday dinner. She was gutted when I told her you weren’t coming back.’
‘God, what did I say to her?’ Will chewed his thumbnail.
‘You called her a star-fucker,’ Owen reminded him brutally.
‘Oh God.’ He tugged at his hair. ‘She’s going to leave, isn’t she?’
‘I’d say she’s packing her bags as we speak.’ Owen held out the spliff to him and, to his surprise, Will took it, had a long, slow drag, then handed it back to him.
‘What am I going to do?’ Will asked, helplessly.
‘If I were you, I’d apologise.’
They walked back into the house together. In the kitchen, Will took off the jacket of his beautifully cut Italian suit jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and started to clear up.
‘What are you doing?’ Owen asked.
‘I’m not leaving this mess for Maria,’ Will told him, loading plates into the dishwasher. ‘It’s not fair on her.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Owen began to collect glasses.
‘What happened here anyway?’ Every pot, glass and piece of cutlery seemed to have been used.
‘Like I said, Kate made you this special birthday dinner.’
‘This was my birthday dinner?’ Will eyed the leftover pasta. ‘I’m glad I missed it.’
‘Oh no, your dinner was gorgeous, and there was a chocolate hash cake. We scoffed the lot, and then we all got the munchies, big-time.’
‘So that’s when you ate the entire contents of the kitchen.’
‘Yes,’ Owen smiled sheepishly.
‘I can’t believe Kate made me a hash cake.’
‘The hash bit was my idea – I told you, she needed cheering up.’
Will felt chastened. He was appalled at the things he had said to Kate, wincing anew as they flashed across his mind, remembering the wounded look in her luminous green eyes with a fresh stab of guilt.
He really didn’t know what had got into him.
Tina had been getting on his nerves. The record company was on his back about the album.
Then he had arrived home, exhausted to find this place trashed.
But, deep down, he knew it wasn’t any of that.
Something had snapped inside him when he had seen Owen and Kate kissing.
He had been disappointed – devastated. And it had been a shock to realise he felt that way.
He ought to have been relieved – after all, he had only asked Kate to come as a favour to Grace, and Owen would suit Grace’s purposes just as well as himself.
He had been jealous. It was as simple as that – as simple and ridiculous and pathetic as that.
In that moment he had known how he felt about Kate.
As he had been belting down the motorway, he had subconsciously been coming home to her.
When he had longed for home earlier, it wasn’t his house in Dublin he had been thinking of, but this house, these people…
Kate. But this wasn’t his home and Kate wasn’t his family. The home he longed for didn’t exist.
* * *
When they had finished clearing up, Will put his jacket back on.
That had been the easy part. Clearing things up with Kate was going to be more difficult.
He went outside and picked a flower from the garden – a beautiful big orange thing whose name he didn’t know.
As he rounded the corner of the house by the pergola, he saw the table, covered with ribbons and streamers, empty wine bottles and some now-flaccid balloons.
Once more he was filled with remorse for the things he had said – and childish disappointment at having missed his own party.
‘Good luck!’ Owen called after him, as he went through the kitchen and headed for the stairs. ‘Oh, and by the way—’
‘Yes?’ Will turned in the doorway.
‘Happy birthday!’
* * *
Kate had been stewing in her room since she’d stormed out of the studio.
She had thrown herself onto the bed and burst into tears of rage.
How dare Will speak to her like that? How could he call her a star-fucker?
Her mind was spinning with images of him towering over her, yelling at her.
She kept thinking about the things he had said, the stinging contempt in his beautiful eyes.
She tried to maintain righteous indignation – Will had been totally in the wrong, flying off the handle for no reason.
She and Owen were both single adults. Well, she was engaged to Brian, but Will didn’t know that.
As far as he was concerned, they had a perfect right to snog each other if they wanted to.
But – much as she hated to admit it – she was more hurt than enraged.
She couldn’t bear Will to think badly of her.
She had always felt he liked and respected her, but tonight he had looked at her as though he hated her.
She had pulled her suitcase from under the bed and started flinging clothes into it haphazardly.
But halfway through she faltered. It was all very well making a grand gesture, but how could she leave without Will’s help?
She longed to sweep down the stairs with her bags and storm out with her head in the air while Will ran after her, begging her to stay, but where would she go?
She couldn’t wake Franco at this hour and ask him for a lift.
Besides, what if he said no? Will was his employer, after all.
She was sitting on the bed feeling thoroughly hacked off and deflated when there was a tentative knock. ‘Kate?’ Will called and knocked again.
‘Go away!’ she shouted.
‘Kate, please open the door.’
Sighing heavily, Kate got up, opened the door a chink and peered out at him warily.
‘Kate, I am so, so sorry,’ he said, seeming genuinely remorseful. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’ He held out a flower to her.
‘You had no cause to speak to me like that,’ she said.
‘I know, I know.’ He nodded helplessly. ‘There’s no excuse for it. I’m really sorry.’
‘But you called me—’
‘Please don’t remind me.’ Will put up a hand to stop her. ‘I’m truly sorry.’ She took the flower.
‘Please don’t leave,’ he said, his eyes on the half-packed suitcase.
Kate followed his gaze to the mess on her bed.
She was stalling for time, feeling she ought to make him work harder but knowing she was about to cave in.
As she turned back to him, the world seemed to tilt on its axis and she felt as if the floor was rushing up to meet her.
Staggering, she grabbed the door for support.
‘Kate! Are you okay?’ Will grasped her arms to steady her.
‘I just feel a bit… dizzy,’ she said faintly, clinging to him.
Without a word, Will sat her on the bed and pushed her head between her knees. ‘Better?’ he asked a moment later when she sat up. He was looking anxiously into her face. He’s really tired, she thought and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘Did you take anything?’ he asked urgently.
‘No,’ Kate croaked. ‘I just had too much wine and hash cake.’ Tears were making her eyes smart and she bent her head again.
She felt so ashamed that she couldn’t look him in the eye.
He had been right to shout at her, she thought miserably.
She was supposed to be helping, making his life easier, but she was just another blithering idiot he had to babysit.
‘I’ll get you a glass of water,’ he said, going into her bathroom.
When he was gone, Kate flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes. Suddenly realising how exhausted she was, she curled up, snuggling into the pillows. If she passed out, at least she wouldn’t have to face Will again.
When Will came back, he found Kate conked out on the bed, amid a jumble of clothes, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, her face flushed.
He bent over her to listen to her breathing, which sounded reassuringly normal.
He pulled a sheet over her and sank down into a chair beside the bed.
He sat there for a long time listening to her breathe, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest, trying to come to terms with what he was feeling.
The minute he had seen Kate kissing Owen he had known that he wanted her for himself.
He wanted her now. He wanted her with him always.
He wanted to share everything with her. He wanted her in his home and he wanted her travelling with him.
He wanted to make love to her and sleep with her and wake up with her in the morning.
He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything or anyone so much in his life.
Somehow, somewhere, he had fallen in love with Kate.
It was painful and bloody inconvenient – but he would get over it.