27. ARIES
27
ARIES
H ow does a perfect morning take such a turn? I woke up in the arms of my handsome boss, feeling a little sleep-deprived but otherwise entirely sated, and dare I say it… happy, only to start work and find out his teenage son has clearly been beaten up, and overhearing his brother referring to me as little more than a slutty employee…
If he wants to get his nuts off with the staff, why not let him fuck the nanny? At least she’s hot.
…to being sworn at by said boss in front of his four-year-old daughter and his brothers. How can he be the same man who kissed me so tenderly earlier?
I was really starting to believe that maybe Matt and I could have something real. Something more than passion and breathlessness and orgasms that you can walk away from when the night is over.
I scratch Mum’s words about love from my mind and thump on Charlie’s door, the sting in my palm after I hit the wood signalling I’m hitting a bit too hard, but I don’t care.
“What?” Charlie’s voice comes from the other side of the closed door.
“You need to come to breakfast.” All the frustration of my morning rakes through my tone, making my voice sound screechy. “We’re going to the beach.”
“I’ll stay here. I don’t want to visit the beach. I fucking hate sand.”
I swallow down my irritation at him dismissing Matt’s carefully made plans so easily and change tack, leaning closer against the door and speaking more softly. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Charlie, please let me in. I need to know what happened.”
“No you fucking don’t.”
I heave a sigh and slump against the door. “Charlie—”
“Fuck off.”
Right, that’s enough for one morning. I am done taking other people’s bullshit. “Do not talk to me that way. If you don’t open this door, I’m going to get your father and bring him down—”
The door swings open, revealing a fully dressed Charlie, face like thunder, eyes glowering. “It was rugby. Bad tackle.”
“Rugby? In the summer term?” I might not be particularly athletic, but even I know rugby’s a winter sport.
“Yes. Rugby. I practise with a group in the morning. I’m not very good, so I always take the hits. That’s it.”
“Charlie, be serious. You look like you’ve been beaten up. And on more than one occasion. You need to talk to me. Whoever’s doing it knows what they’re doing because they haven’t touched your face. Don’t collude in this. Who is it?”
He glares at me, and the hope that I might break through to him begins to ebb. Then, all of a sudden, he relents. “Older boys. They’ve left now. This was their last term. Please don’t tell Dad. I’ll never see them again.”
“Give me names.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not relevant anymore. They’re gone. They won’t be at school next term. This” —he pulls up his shirt and I wince at the bruises—“was goodbye.”
He’s so angry that his face is red beneath the teenage pimples. He has his father’s bone structure and despite the gawky disproportion of his teenage face, he's a handsome young man. But more than that, there’s a well of pain inside him that sends a tremor through my bones.
“Please.” His voice breaks a little, and sadness tugs at my larynx, as if I’m the one about to cry. “Don’t tell my dad. I don’t want to ruin this holiday for no good reason.”
“I don’t want to keep secrets,” I tell him, but I look away as I speak, knowing I’m keeping my own secrets from him. Knowing Matt and I will have to come clean at some point if our relationship is going anywhere.
Although, perhaps it isn’t. Perhaps he’s a man in his thirties having a breakdown after a divorce. Perhaps all I am to him is a distraction. Maybe that’s why he was able to speak to me like that in front of his brothers... Maybe that whispered everything last night didn’t really mean ‘everything’ at all.
Charlie pouts his bottom lip, tossing his head like he doesn’t care either way, but the pain in his eyes gives him away. “Tell him if you want. He won’t care. He doesn't give a shit. You know what he’s like.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lucie told me he yelled at you like he used to yell at Mum.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “If you tell him about this, either he won’t care or he’ll yell at me. Like it’s my fault. He’s not a nice man, Aries. He’s an arse.”
A shiver goes down my spine. “He loves you. I know he does.”
Charlie snorts. “Whatever. I’ll make your job easy today, because I’m feeling generous. I’ll come and have breakfast. Get on the boat. Come to the beach. But only if you swear you won’t mention this to Dad. It’s not going to happen again. I’m not in pain anymore. I’m fine. This is all fine. Deal?”
I know I should say no. I shouldn't be making promises to a teenager. But the echo of Matt swearing at me at the breakfast table in front of everyone hums in my bloodstream. What if Charlie’s right and Matt does take it out on him? The last thing this kid needs is his father yelling at him the way Matt yelled at me, without listening to what I had to say. It was dismissive and soul-crushing. Luckily, I’m old enough to take it and have enough self-awareness to realise that it’s Matt’s crap, not mine. But Charlie might not have that perspective…
“Okay. Deal,” I say. “But if I see so much as a fingerprint on you when we get back to England, I’m going straight to your dad.”
As we’re wandering along the idyllic beach, not another person beyond our little group in sight, I have the unnerving sensation that I’ve made a deal with the devil. What was I thinking, promising not to tell Matt about Charlie’s bruises?
It’s my job to look after these kids. I owe them a duty of care, and I owe Matt the truth. But I’m still so fucking angry with him, angry with myself for trusting him, letting him in… maybe there’s no saving a man like that. One who can’t control his temper.
Lucie is on Matt’s shoulders as we traipse along the sand, so I’m temporarily free. Charlie is walking between Nico and Seb, and Kate is beside me.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” she says. “Matt’s been under a lot of pressure for a long time.”
“You don’t need to make excuses for him. If he wants to apologise, he can.”
Kate frowns and adjusts her sunglasses. The lenses are so large they make her look a little like a blue bottle under a microscope. A pretty one, but a large-eyed insect, nonetheless. “I’m sure he will. And about Seb—”
“Please. Stop. Are you going to do the apologising for all the Hawkston brothers? Because that’s not your role.”
Kate’s tongue runs over her top lip and she nods. “You’re right. But I wanted to check you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Plus Seb already spoke to me, so it’s just Matt…”
Kate smiles and leans in, whispering in my ear. “Refuse to sleep with him. You’ll have him on his knees in no time.”
A mixture of embarrassment and shock surges through my body, and my mouth falls open. Kate, seeing my reaction, laughs a little and shrugs. She moves ahead, calling out to Nico, Charlie and Seb. “You boys, come with me. There’s a little alcove just along here where we can set up for lunch. It’s like a mermaid cave. Lucie will love it.” Matt moves to follow but Kate shakes her head. “You’re not invited. You should show Aries around instead. If you head in the other direction, there’s a beautiful little bay. Come back to meet us for lunch.” She winks. “Here, let me take Lucie.”
She holds out her arms, and Lucie lets go of her dad’s hair which she’s been grabbing like reins. Matt lifts her down and Kate takes her hand, the two of them sinking into the sand with each step as they run to catch up with the others.
Matt pulls on his earlobe, staring at me awkwardly. A warm breeze ruffles the hair around my face, but I’m anchored in place by the force of his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I—”
I turn and begin to walk uphill. I have no idea where I’m going—and I’m definitely not headed where Kate pointed—but I need to get away from him.
“Aries, would you wait a minute?” He grabs my elbow and spins me to him. “Where are you—”
“I had a perfect night with you. Perfect. The sex, the sleeping, your apology… all of it. Fucking perfect, and you went and ruined it. You swore at me in front of your family. Your brothers, who already think I’m ‘just the nanny’”—I raise my index fingers to air quote—“you happen to be fucking because you’re having a midlife crisis. Is that what this is?”
His irises move frantically over me, his chest rising and falling under his linen shirt. “Do you need to know what it is? Can’t we just enjoy it?”
“I don’t know. Can we?”
A flicker of something I think is guilt crosses his face. “I’m sorry.”
“We’re lying to your children.”
“We’re not lying. We’re protecting them from information they don’t need to know. Christ, everyone’s getting at me to define this thing between us even though it’s only been a few weeks. As if this is some life-defining relationship, when it’s not. It’s sex. It’s just sex. It’s not as though we’re going to get married.”
His last sentence is spoken with such disdain, such disparagement that I can feel the words scraping my heart.
Just sex? “Wow, Matt. You really know how to make a girl feel good. Well done.” I start clapping, slowly, mostly because I know it’s fucking annoying and I can tell by the look on his face that he thinks so too. But his expression shifts quickly.
“Shit. Aries, I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out to me, but I turn away and start walking quickly up the hill again. Away from the beach, the water. I don’t know why; my brain is too fogged with anger to think straight. I keep marching until my legs ache. I’m practically running, and the sand is turning to tufted grass, prickling the soles of my bare feet. There’s no one else here. I ought to go back down, to find the others, to look after Lucie and do my job. Not fight with my boss about what ought to have been casual sex, but never was.
I spin back to find Matt right behind me, a worried, almost panicked expression on his handsome face. For a second, it gives me pause, but I have to say what I have to say. I can’t keep quiet. “Last night, you said it was everything . Is it just sex, or is it everything? Which is it?”
“Everything.”
The word buries itself right inside me—a treasure to be unearthed later—but right now, it’s not enough. I haven’t finished. Not yet. “My parents used to fight. Before they got divorced. My dad would talk to my mother like she didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t thinking about anything other than his own temper. And I swore I would never, never have that in my life. When he left, I was relieved. I was six years old, and I rejoiced that my daddy had gone. No more hiding under the stairs. Cowering under my duvet, waiting for the screams to stop.”
Matt’s eyes are on me, his expression so pained it makes the ache in my heart worse, but I’m not going to hold back to save either of us a little discomfort.
“When Alec told me about you and Gemma, and when I met her, I thought maybe it wasn’t your fault. Maybe she was a bitch, just like you said.” My gaze lingers on the scar, that thin white line through his eyebrow. He watches me intently and, noticing where I’m looking, he rubs a finger along it.
“But you aren’t a victim. You aren’t the good guy, who got stuck in a bad marriage.” I shake my head. “Everything is a co-creation. Every relationship is two people muddling their way through. You were in it together, just like we are. And you aren’t the good guy.” My voice is so quiet, I can barely hear it above the sound of gulls and the rhythmic thump of the waves on the shore. “And I so wanted you to be. I wanted it so badly. I wanted this to be everything .”
His eyelids droop, and beneath them his dark eyes are full of sorrow. My heart is so wrung out with the pain of seeing him like this. I can hardly meet his gaze.
“I never said I was a good guy,” he says, and the words seem to break him. “I’m a lot of things, but that’s not something I can claim.” He drops his head into his palm, then drags his hand over the back of his head, pulling dark swathes of hair clear of his forehead. “Fuck, Aries. If you’re looking for some perfect man, some perfect prince, then that’s not me. And you might as well scrap the fucking illusion, because I don’t want to disappoint you. I hate feeling this way, like I can’t be good enough, like you’re another person I’m letting down. Another person I’m hurting.”
“Then stop doing stupid shit.”
The tiniest smile pulls at his gorgeous mouth, then he drops his gaze, looks to the ground. “I’m an idiot.”
“Yes.”
We stand, breathing, watching one another.
“You know what?” I say. “I like having sex with you. I like it so much, I’d put up with a lot of your crap. And I hate myself for it, because I know you’ll swear at me or yell like a madman or walk away from me when I’m bent over your desk, and in spite of all that, if you say one nice thing to me… If you look at me like that”—I wave at his face, where his eyes are so full of care, so remorseful, so troubled —“I’ll do anything you want. Because to me, this is more than just the sex. More than the passion and the breathlessness… this is…”
My words trail off. I can’t bring myself to say ‘love’ because that would be insane. Wouldn’t it?
“Aries,” he says softly as he reaches out to take my hand, but I snap it away.
“Just give me one more minute being angry with you. One more. Before you tear it all down.”
His hand falls to his side, and he stands opposite me as I count in my head. One Mississippi, Two Mississipi … I count all the way to sixty before Matt moves.
Then, like he’s been counting too, he drops to his knees there in the grassy sandbank and looks up at me.
It’s so unexpected that heat blasts through my body. I glance around to check whether any of the others can see this ridiculous scenario play out, but no one is here. It’s just us and the breeze and the sand and the sea.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I don’t deserve you. I know that. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry anyone, ever again, because marriage is a bullshit load of paperwork and heartache that made my life a whole lot worse. But I should never have shouted at you. Never. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. I can’t believe you exist at all, let alone that you might want to be with me. I’m pinching myself the whole fucking time. And I really like having sex with you too. I really fucking love it. But it’s not just sex. I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry.” He cups a hand over his mouth, but there’s a hesitancy in his gaze, like he thinks he might not win me over this time.
“I knew from that first night that this was something more, and it scared the shit out of me. It still does. I love how you call me on all my bullshit, always asking the hard questions, pushing me to places I'd otherwise refuse to go.” He takes a long, shuddering breath, before he speaks again.
“I want to be better than this, Aries. I want to be better, for you, so we can see how far this thing between us can run. We can tell the kids about us at the end of the summer, if that’s what you want. You can fucking resign and I’ll get a new nanny. We’ll tell the kids in October. Let’s just wait until then, okay? First of October. We’ll break it to them then.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say ‘ if we last that long ’, but I don’t want to ruin the moment, because I have the most devastatingly handsome man in the world on his knees for me, and I’m savouring it for as long as I can.
“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he continues. “If this is as far as we go, then I’ll thank God for every second I had you in my life, and I’ll walk away. I want you to know that I’m sorry. And I swear, I will never raise my voice to you again. Even if you never fucking listen to me and you ignore every rule I’ve put in place.”
I laugh, sniffling a little, wiping my nose on the back of my hand. I don’t know if I’m crying or my nose is running or what. “You’re allowed to be angry. But it’s the way you handle it that matters.”
Matt’s lips tip up, a little tension leaving his shoulders. “Do you forgive me?”
I do an exaggerated eye-roll. Of course I forgive him, but I’ll make him wait for it. Just a wee bit longer.
From his knees, voice church-sermon serious, he says, “If you don’t, how can we have more of that great sex we’ve been having?”
I laugh. “How could I not forgive you? I really like having sex with you. More than with anyone else, ever . And you’re on your knees on the beach.” And I think I love you, you grumpy bastard.
He smiles. “So that’s a yes? Because there are stones down here. It’s killing my patellas.”
“Get up, you idiot.”
He stands up, holding both my hands in his. “Thank fuck, because I…” His voice drops away, like whatever he was going to say plunged off a cliff.
My heart hammers. “Because you?”
“Like you. I like you.”
“God, you are just so English. Save me from your stuffy English charm.” A smile pulls at my lips against my will, and Matt’s eyes light up as he notices. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I say, referencing his obvious relief. “We need to add to the list of things you can’t do.”
He squeezes my hands in his, his eyes bright and eager to please. “Okay.”
“You can’t swear at me, or shout unreasonably. Oh, and you need to move me into a bigger bedroom.”
He chuckles. “That’s in hand. All your things will be moved by the crew by the time we get back on board.”
“And the rest?”
“I’ll try. I have a bad temper. It’s stress. It’s—”
“It’s you. Don’t make excuses. Those are your emotions. Don’t throw them at me unless it’s really warranted. Unless it’s really me that’s made you angry. No random swearing because you’re frustrated by your son or your brothers or whatever. If it’s because I’ve done something wrong, I’ll take it. But otherwise, no. It’s not acceptable.”
Charlie pops into my mind, pleading with me not to tell his dad about his bruises. Do I even have a right to demand this of Matt, when I’m concealing things from him about his son’s welfare?
“Okay,” he says, and I believe he means it. His heated gaze strays from my eyes to my lips. “Can I kiss you now?” He looks at the time on his watch. “It’s been at least five hours and that’s far too long.”
He leans in, and I put one hand to his hard, firm chest, holding him off. “October first?”
He gives a lop-sided smile, and he looks so handsome that longing shoots straight through my belly. “October first,” he agrees. “It’s a date.”
And then his lips are on me, and everything around me blurs as I lose myself in his kiss.