Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Please, don’t decline again.
I need to see you. Both of you.
Typhoon of shit, or not, I don’t care.
Duration: Four hours.
Proposal price: Whatever you want. Just accept, please.
The price Josh set was a grand. Just a token gesture as far as Heath Mason is concerned, but enough to pass through The Agency books without too much scrutiny. The last thing we want is to draw any attention to the proposal. Not for any of us.
We get a cab to the random hotel in Maidstone that Heath has chosen, quite a way out of London. The journey seems to take a decade as Josh and I sit in silence, holding hands. There is nothing to say. No small talk would cut it.
We check into the hotel under Josh’s name, and the smiling blonde receptionist hands over the key card for our room.
She grins at Josh as she points out the elevator, blatantly fancying a piece of him, and he maintains his cool with a confident smile.
He gives her a gracious thank you, this place looks absolutely excellent, and she replies with a giggle.
Thank you, sir! Enjoy your stay. Catch you tomorrow for breakfast, I hope.
It’s like I don’t exist as I stay a few steps to side of him, protecting myself from prying eyes. I’ve dressed down massively, trying to blend in by being ordinary. But I don’t like ordinary. I never have. It may offer sanctuary, but it feels like shit.
I don’t want to hide myself away anymore. I don’t want to dull my own flame.
But tonight, I have no choice. Not where Heath is concerned. I have to suck it up in my oversized light blue hoodie as the receptionist hits on my boyfriend, right in front of me.
It’s not a surprise, and it’s not jealousy that has me frustrated.
It’s the lack of me being me. I mean, even in a play it down getup of jeans and a t-shirt, Josh looks amazing, and he sounds it.
I’d want to hit on him with everything I had if I was her.
And he’s buzzing with just the right amount of cockiness to keep her satisfied.
Still, his cool chill is a facade. He takes a deep breath once we’ve turned away from her, a hint of sweat beading on his brow as we cross the foyer, wheeling our small suitcase.
I grab his hand, squeezing hard when we reach the elevator.
My breaths are already hitching when it arrives and opens with a ding, an instinctive bout of panic threatening to take over until we are up on floor five, safe in the confines of our hotel room.
Trust Heath, he’s booked us a whole bloody suite, even for just a few hours.
The place is luxurious as hell, with a huge bed, and minibar and jacuzzi bath.
Me and Josh would usually be squealing at the luxury of a room like this, but not tonight. Josh flops himself down on the luxury, king-size bed and lets out a sigh.
“I thought I was ready for it, but I’m not.”
I join him, wrapping an arm over his chest as we lie together.
“Yep. I’m with you on team jitterbug. I’m absolutely crapping myself.”
“I’m glad we’re not gonna be waiting long. I don’t think my guts would take it.”
“Ditto.” I link my fingers in his. “Here we are, though. It’s going to get easier once we know what the score is. We’ll do ok, I’m sure.”
He squeezes my fingers, palm to palm.
“Yeah, we’ll do ok. Always.”
We won’t have that much time to dwell and ponder. Just over an hour until the proposal starts. The final strait.
I’m glad the waiting time is so short. My brain is already scatty enough to make me dizzy.
“Fancy a coffee?” Josh asks. “The freebies look good.”
The freebies do look good on a tray on the dresser – at least a dozen kinds of teabags and posh coffees, along with multiple packs of biscuits.
“I’m buzzing way too much for coffee,” I tell him. “Maybe we should get ready?”
“Good idea.”
I’m shaking like hell as I prepare for the meetup, switching from basic, into a cute little black velvet dress with fishnets.
I have to brace my elbow on the dresser to do my catflicks, I’m trembling so bad, and have to start over on my lipstick halfway through, since I’ve smudged outside the lines.
Josh keeps his tight black jeans on, but changes into a fitted shirt and deep purple tie.
Trademark him. The streak in his hair has been freshly dyed, and looks seriously vibrant.
He looks seriously vibrant. Well dressed and confident with a smile to die for.
Only tonight, it’s all surface level. His hands are shaking as bad as mine as he checks out his tie for the hundredth time in the dresser mirror.
“You look amazing,” I say. “For real, Josh. You look incredible. Even though you’re crapping it.”
“Thanks, baby. So do you. You look like a goth ballerina in that getup.”
“I don’t feel amazing,” I admit. “I feel like a jangle of nerves. Happy, excited, over the moon, yeah. But I’m shitting myself. I think I could throw up my chicken Caesar salad like the girl from The Exorcist.”
He manages a laugh at that.
“That makes two of us. Good job we haven’t got spinning heads.”
“Good job we don’t need eyes in the back of spinning heads anymore. Thanks, Connor, for keeping everyone else’s eyes away from me.”
“And thanks, Daddy, too,” Josh says. “We landed lucky with our client list. That guy is a legend.”
“He sure is.”
I wrap my arms around my gorgeous boyfriend from behind, resting my chin on his shoulder as I meet his gaze in the mirror.
“We’re going to do great, Josh. It’s Heath. We know him, we adore him. We can work this out.”
“Jesus, I hope so. I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do if this is goodbye.”
Josh doesn’t feel like Josh right now, even in his hot attire. He’s twitchy. Insecure. Scared. It’s such a reversal, me acting as the figure made of steel, trying to keep him secure in his hour of need.
“I can’t wait to see him,” Josh says. “It feels like he’s been gone for years.”
“Only a few minutes left, then he’ll be right in front of us. We’ll be able to sort things out, face to face. We have to.”
“Been a long time coming.” He lets out another sigh. “Way too long.”
I get a stab of guilt, because if it wasn’t for me and my fucking catastrophe of an exposure, then this crazy, fucked-up situation would never have happened.
Still, there’s no point dwelling on the past. That’s what Dad has been telling me for months.
Just keep your eyes on the future, Ella. It’ll be alright. The world will keep on turning.
The world doesn’t feel like it’s turning in this hotel room, though.
Everything seems paused at a standstill.
My cheeks are burning underneath my makeup, and my heart is pounding in my ears, but I try to stay calm as the minutes pass by.
I need to stay calm for Josh. It’s my one chance to be his rock in the storm.
It’s like we’re waiting for a superfan Heath Mason meet and greet when Josh finally pulls up the proposal on his phone. It’s time.
“Here we go,” he says, and clicks on arrived.
Fucking hell, I’m having palpations as we wait for a reply, staring at Josh’s phone screen.
And I’m sure I nearly pee myself when the ping comes through.
Next door, to the right, the message says, and my mouth drops open.
Heath’s been next door the whole time. Just there, through the wall. So close, but so crazy far.
“Whoa,” I say. “He’s right there. He could have just knocked for us.”
Josh smirks. “That’s Heath’s style. Sometimes the closest shadows are the hardest to see, remember?”
I have to grin. It’s one of The Count’s lines in Nighttime Whispers.
Heath must have booked one of the mega suites, since the room doors are so far apart. We pace along the corridor on a mission, breaths jagged by the time we reach our destination.
“My hands are clammy as shit,” Josh says before he knocks at the door, and I take his arm, both of us standing united as we face what’s to come.
We’ve got this.
For sure.
We’ve got this.
Like hell we have.
Our solid stance fades to nothing as soon as the door swings open and the superstar that is Heath Mason stands tall before us, tailored in a classic black suit. My legs are pure jelly as I dash past him into the solace of the hotel room, all rational thought lost behind the insane pang in my ribs.
I knew I missed him. I knew it hurt. But I had no idea just how much until his eyes lock with mine. There is a look of pure adoration on his beautiful angular face. Just like in Cannes. Just like the purity of the emotion when we left him.
“Jesus fucking Christ, guys,” he says. “You’ve come back from the fucking dead. Finally.”
He throws his arms around Josh first, crushing him tight.
Josh’s demeanour shifts in an instant, holding on to our beloved client for dear life as they sway together.
I watch them. I love them. Both of them.
The tears prick and run down my face when I feel the force of the emotions coming to light, finally bursting free.
All speculation was pointless. Nothing but muted grey tones compared to the real-life experience of the missing puzzle piece clicking back into place.
Heath holds out an arm for me when he and Josh stop swaying.
“Come here, Ella,” he says, and his cheeks are tracked with tears that only fuel more of mine.
I race into his arms for a three way embrace, Josh gripping me tight along with Heath as the three of us rack with sobs.
Heath strokes my hair, and kisses my forehead. He looks at me as though I’m a treasured jewel from the bottom of the ocean, and he smiles at Josh like he’s life itself.
There are no words or scrabbles of missed you, no oh my Gods, nothing but embraces and kisses and eyes filled with unbridled joy. Heath’s mouth is every bit as magnificent as I remember. Kissing him is like wildfire, and sharing him with Josh sets my whole body alight.
We’re moving towards the bed on instinct, desperate for naked flesh on flesh when Heath breaks away enough for a whoa, whoa, stop. STOP!
His words snap through the air, cutting like a knife. The current shifts in a beat. Ocean waves coming to a halt.