Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Holy fucking shit, Ella, what were you thinking? You told Orla?!”
Josh looks so pissed off as he stands before me in the kitchen, back home from his night of action, a half-eaten pizza slice in his hand. He looks unkempt after his active proposal, but still looks absolutely stunning.
“No… I mean, maybe. Yes. Kind of. But Orla was ok. Honestly, she was fine about it.”
“Right. Sure she was. Unless she’s reporting it to her superiors in the background and preparing to get us the fuck ousted from The Agency for misconduct.”
I shake my head. I trust Orla too much for that. She sounded absolutely A-ok in the conversation.
“She’d have said so. She’d have shot me down straight off. I mean look at what they helped me through, when things got tough. And we haven’t done anything wrong, Josh! Not yet.”
He meets my eyes.
“The bullshit around Connor wasn’t in your hands.
It wasn’t a potential confidentiality breach or loss of a client, Ells.
User 1543 is a different ballgame to them.
He’s a client. A mega rich one at that. And we’re entertainers.
That kind of relationship always stays in that bracket.
Lines should never be crossed. Hell, they drill that into us enough when we sign up. ”
I lean back against the counter.
“I’m sorry. I know it was dumbass to even mention it, but the call caught me off guard and I just…” I get a lump in my throat. “Forgive me, please. I shouldn’t have done it.” The tears hit. “I just wanted to know where the road might lead. One day. Some day.”
The tears have only just begun when Josh crosses the kitchen and takes me in his arms. Even when he’s pissed at me, he’s still my saviour.
“I get it,” he says. “Seriously, Ells, I do. It’s just a risky strategy. A very risky strategy.”
I nod against his chest.
“Everything is going to be a risky strategy though where Heath Mason is concerned. We’d have to tell them at some point. Imagine if they just found out, without us bringing them in on the loop at all.”
“That’s true.”
“We can’t keep things from them. Transparency will be important. If and when…”
My voice trails off. My stomach lurching.
“I know, baby.” He strokes my hair. “But we don’t have the roadmap for if and when yet. None of us.”
He must be exhausted, sighing as he rests his chin on my head. I hold him tight, squeezing to let him know how much I adore him.
“Let’s forget it now,” he says. “Let’s get some sleep, and think through things in the morning. We’re going to see Heath soon. He might have some ideas of his own.”
“We’re going to have to tell him I blurted and spoke to Orla. He might be really fucked off with me.”
“Yes, we will have to tell him, but I’m sure he’ll be as forgiving as me. He loves you to bits, just like I do.”
I smile at that. Yes, he does. We all love each other. It’s a triangle of adoration and respect, and it was me who took matters into my own clumsy hands and proceeded without caution.
Josh kisses my head, then glugs a glass of water. It’s going to be a very welcome sensation to have his warm radiator body pressed next to mine.
It’s been a long night with him on a proposal, and me waiting on eggshells for him to D&S and finally get home after my Orla blurt out.
I cosy up under the covers with him, thanking my lucky stars all over again at the greatness of what I have.
So many women from his party earlier would be jumping with glee at the chance to be here with him right now. He’s got a personality that easily equals the horny magnificence they’d have seen from him tonight.
But I’m the one he comes home to.
I’m the one who gets all the wonderful sides of him, even when I’ve pissed him off.
We’re still in bed, the sun bright around the blinds when Josh’s ringtone sounds out loudly from his bedside table.
He scuffles around, half asleep, patting the table to find it. When he does, he sits up in bed, staring at the screen with a look of shock.
“It’s Tiff,” he says, then answers with a hello.
Jesus. I can hear the frantic sound of sobbing through the handset as I lie beside him. My heart lurches.
“Tiff?” Josh asks. “Tiff? Are you alright? Tiff?! What’s happened?! Do you need help? I’m coming now. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there.”
He’s already leaping from bed, dashing towards the wardrobe, and I prop myself up, ready to dash along with him if need be.
I can’t hear her side of the conversation, only his.
“Ok, but you need to come right here, right now, understand me? Straight to Belgravia and up to ours. No excuses, Tiff. Just get here.”
He hangs up and turns to face me.
“This isn’t good,” Josh says. “She sounds an absolute wreck.”
I look at him in horror.
“What’s happened?”
“No idea. She was too fucked up to say.”
Tiff falls into Josh’s arms as soon as he opens the front door about thirty minutes later, and her attire knocks me for six, because the red-haired beauty is dressed up like an elf.
An actual elf with stripy tights, like she’s been performing at a stage show.
I get a lurch in my stomach as Josh squeezes his best friend tight and lets her cry against his chest. There’s been a lot of that lately.
Tears of joy, tears of pain, tears of fear.
“I fucked up,” she sobs. “I fucked up so fucking bad.”
Josh doesn’t push her for words, just rocks her gently as her tears stream. This is so unlike Tiff, it feels bizarre to watch, so I don’t watch. I leave them to it, in privacy. It’s him she needs right now, not me.
I retreat to the living room and take a seat, hitching my legs up and holding a pillow to my chest. I feel so bad for her.
So worried. Because whatever’s happened must be serious.
Really fucking serious. The tears prick at my own eyes, in sympathy for our friend.
Whatever she’s going through must be horrific, and so is the unknown.
When Josh leads her through to the living room, she drops into her usual spot on the sofa, with Josh right beside her.
He rests his hand on her knee and tells her to breathe.
Calm. In and out, in and out. She listens to him, sucking in air through her nose and blowing it out through her mouth, clearly struggling to regain the use of words.
Both me and Josh give her our full attention, poised ready to hear her words.
“I fell in love with Santa. At the mall.” She gestures to me with wide eyes. “When me and you went that day, and I sat on his lap.”
Oh my God, Santa.
“I remember,” I say. “The client with no bookings. Were you his first? The owner of the mall?” She pauses.
That pause speaks volumes.
My mouth drops open in shock.
“Oh crap, have you fallen in love with a client, Tiff? Has Orla found out or something?!”
My own situation is coming to haunt me. My late-night conversation with our Agency co-ordinator still fresh in my mind.
She shakes her head, a fresh sob rising from her chest.
“He’s not just a client… the owner of the mall is a, um… he’s a…”
I wait. Poised. Confused.
“He’s a founder,” she tells us. “Reuben Sinclair. He’s a founder, and I went back to the grotto, and I fell in love with him. And now it’s over. It’s all gone to shit.”
Jesus Christ, what a revelation. I feel the colour drain from my face as her words sink in. Reuben Sinclair – Santa – is one of the founders. No way. It can’t be true. I can’t even fathom it.
My eyes click with Josh’s, and he’s as pale as I am, trying to get his mind around what the hell is going on.
“The mall?” he asks me.
“Yeah, we went shopping,” I say. “Me, Tiff and Eb. We thought it would be fun to go in the grotto. Just a stupid game.”
“A stupid game, no shit.” He looks back at Tiff. “And the prick has called it off now? Had his fill and turfed you out? I know you get these obsessive streaks, Tiff, but he’s the one who crossed the line if he fucked you over.”
She shakes her head. “No. He didn’t fuck me over. It was the opposite.” Her lip trembles as I speak. “He loved me.”
“Loved you?” Josh raises his eyebrows. “A founder dressed up as Santa in the mall sought you out, fucked you, and told you he loved you? And then what? Loverboy kicked you to the kerb?”
“No. It wasn’t like that!”
“Sure it wasn’t. What a fucking tosser.”
Oh, how life has its parallels. But Josh doesn’t know Santa. He’s never met him. The idea he’s a founder is fucking mental, but there’s a tandem situation here that I never saw coming in a thousand years.
Josh has no idea of the similarities, though. He grits his jaw like he’s ready to go and attack our founder at the mall. Like he wants to rip his Santa beard from his face and pummel the shit out of him.
Again I remember when we were first together, and he confronted those idiots for being a cunt to me, kicking their bikes to the floor.
I shift closer to him and rest a hand on his arm.
“Santa isn’t like that, Josh,” I try to assure him. “He’s a really nice guy.”
Like Heath, I want to add. But I don’t dare.
He looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind.
“You’ve bought into this Santa crap as well? Seriously? He’s a fucking founder.” He stares full on at Tiff, who is still sobbing. “Did you know he was a founder when you fucked him?”
“Yes. I knew he was a founder the moment I met him in the grotto,” she says.
“But you’d never seen his face. You’ve always been under a hood.”
“I didn’t need to see his face. I just knew. I knew the way he felt when I sat on him. I recognised him.” She rubs her temples, trying to explain it, and I understand. Being with the founders is so heightened. The sensations etched into your soul.
“I just knew, ok?” Tiff says. “And then I saw his eyes, and he saw mine, and the rest is history, as they say. Or in my case an absolute fucking nightmare.”
I hold the cushion tighter to my chest, hurting for her. Josh shakes his head, still trying to process things.
“Shit, Tiff,” he says.