29. ARIES
29
ARIES
T he evening is unusually balmy for the UK as we drift hand in hand through Covent Garden. I’m thankful I’m wearing trainers, because these cobblestones would be lethal otherwise.
This whole evening has been surreal, from sex on the roof, to strolling around like a real couple, as if we’re on holiday. Even when we were actually away, on the boat, we couldn't do this. We were so stealthy, stealing kisses and glances and touches like we’d be sent down for life if anyone caught us.
This is reckless in comparison, but the feel of Matt’s large fingers interlinked with my smaller ones, while we're out in public, is a sensation I didn’t know would give me so much pleasure.
We eat at a little restaurant called Clos Maggiore, which might be the most romantic restaurant I’ve ever been in. The ceiling is decorated in greenery and blossom and the place is lit with tiny lights. It’s like eating in a fairy dell.
Matt orders the wine, which is delicious. I eat so much I’m positively bursting, and then we share a pudding. A chocolate fondant that’s warm and melting and sickly sweet.
Matt takes a few bites and pushes it towards me. “All yours. Too sweet for me.”
“Yum. Thanks.”
I scoop up the rest and chow it down as Matt sips on the rest of his wine. There’s a heated look in his eyes.
“What?” I ask, my spoon, laden with chocolate sauce, halfway to my mouth.
He smiles. “I want to eat you as much as you want to eat that pudding.”
“Wow.” I pop the final spoonful in my mouth and then, before I’ve even chewed, I say, “You must want to eat me a hell of a lot.”
“I do. Let’s get out of here.” He waves to the waiter with one lazy raise of his hand, not taking his eyes off me.
A few minutes later, we’re back outside, only now it’s dark. Groups of tourists and youngsters cross the market place, and their loud joyous voices fill the air. There’s a hum of excitement in Covent Garden, as if only good things happen here; things that speak of the promise of life and happiness and unlimited possibilities. My heart is burgeoning with the sensation, and my head is swirling with expensive wine, and I’m giddy at the proximity of Matt. I’m so high, I feel like I’m on drugs.
Matt tugs on my hand, pulling me into an alcove.
“What—”
In seconds, his hands are around me, his lips warm and desperate over mine, swallowing my weak protests.
His hot palms and strong fingers are all over me, in my hair, down my back, squeezing my bum. It’s like he’s touching me everywhere at once, pulling me against him, the thick erection at his groin pushing against me. I gasp.
“Always ready,” he mutters, then shakes his head like he’s disappointed somehow. “Fuck, you make me so hard. I’m like a teenager around you.” He kisses me again, the rough stubble on his chin grazing my skin. He drives his tongue deeper into my mouth, and warmth spills through me, desire coiling low between my legs.
I slide my hand over his erection and he groans. It’s such a feral noise, as if he’s only half-human in this moment, and full of such need that I can’t help sliding my hand into his trousers to grip the hard, hot length of it. I begin to stroke up and down the soft skin of his hard dick.
Bang !
My body contracts in fear, and I whip my hand out of Matt’s trousers so fast I catch it on the zipper.
“What the fuck?” Matt says, cradling me against the broad strength of his chest. He holds me like I’m precious, smothering me against his hard muscle, the scent of him engulfing me. Protecting me. My heart pounds and I can feel the quickened beat of his heart too.
A crumpled can lies on the ground next to us.
“Get a room,” calls a male voice.
I twist out of Matt’s grip to see who’s shouting at us. A group of teenage boys, probably eighteen or nineteen, are stumbling around in the square behind us. They look drunk. One of them kicks another empty beer can in our direction.
Matt lurches away from me like he means to go after them. “That’s it—”
“Please, leave it,” I beg, tugging him back.
“Whore,” comes a voice.
Matt’s features shift, and for a second its like he barely sees me, lost to a sudden onslaught of rage. He tries to head towards the boys, but at the idea of him leaving me, I cling harder to him, my fingers pressing into his biceps.
“Stop. Please.”
He looks down at me, then at the group of boys. There’s such danger flickering in his eyes that I know he wants to yell at them. Maybe even hit them. But I can’t let him go around unleashing his temper on drunken kids. “They don’t get to do that,” he growls. “To call you that—”
“I don’t care. Let’s just go home.”
He breathes heavily through flared nostrils, the strong line of his jaw firm like he’s clenching his teeth. His hand slides to my waist, tightening against me.
I glance up at the group of boys, and one of them catches my eye. A shiver courses over my skin. There’s something familiar about the kid, but I can’t place it. A horrible feeling settles low in my stomach, and I know I won’t be able to shake it off until I work out what has disturbed me.
“Those little shits,” Matt mutters.
“Please,” I say. “They’re just drunk.”
I hold eye contact, my fingers fixed tight to his arm, until finally the anger seeps out of his gaze. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Matt calls his driver, and we walk hand in hand to where the car is parked down a side street, but somehow I don’t feel the comfort from Matt’s touch that I did before.
“All okay?” he asks as we reach the car and he opens the door for me.
I nod. “Thank you for dinner.”
I gnaw on my thumbnail and stare out the car window all the way home. Something isn’t right, but I don’t know what it is. I suspect Matt senses it too because he doesn’t speak or touch me, keeping his hands firmly planted on each of his thighs.
Perhaps it’s guilt… the inevitability of getting caught doing something we shouldn’t that’s really hitting home right now. Whatever it is, the fine balance of our little world has been knocked askew, and I don’t know how to put it right.
Back in my room at home, I wait all night for a message from Matt to come through on my phone, but nothing does. I can’t shake the eerie sensation that something ended tonight, and a panicked pressure swells in my chest with no relief, until I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.
When I wake the following morning, I find Matt sitting on the edge of my tiny bed, dressed in his suit. A particularly dapper navy linen suit. Fuck, he looks good. Any worries I had about last night dissolve as he smiles at me and runs his fingers through my hair, watching the red strands filter across his palm before dropping onto the pillow.
“I love your hair,” he says, still mesmerized by it as he continues to play with the strands. I let him do it a while longer before I rub my eyes, giving him a deliberate once-over.
“Why are you in a suit? Isn’t it Saturday?
He curls a lock of my hair around his finger, keeping his gaze on it like I haven’t spoken. “I thought this whole Scottish redhead thing was an urban legend.”
“Do you mean stereotype? Because yes, it’s a stereotype. I’m a stereotype.” Irritation has my words coming out a little too fast. “Just what every girl wants to hear. And yes, I’ve heard it before.”
Matt’s eyes glint at me, all dark and mischievous. “Are you talking to me, or having an argument with yourself?”
I huff. “Why are you wearing a suit?”
He smiles, rubbing his hands down his muscular thighs and leaning forward as he says, “Because we’re taking a trip.”
I sit up, alarmed. “What? Who is?”
“Me and you.”
I must be dreaming. “We only just came back from holiday. And who’s looking after the kids? We can’t ask Alec again.”
“Nico and Kate are coming over to babysit. In fact, they’re probably downstairs already. They’re great with Lucie. She’ll be fine.”
“Where are we going?”
“Scotland.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you having a laugh?”
“No. We’ll be back for dinner. You don’t need to pack. Just get dressed.”
“Why?”
He stands up. “Your mum. We’re going to see her.”
Oh, my God . A million thoughts zing in my brain. Mum. I get to see my mum. Scotland. Matt. He wants to meet my mother. Shit . I never thought he’d actually follow through on that vague discussion about meeting her.
“Wait.” I push the covers off the bed and swing my legs over the side, bare feet hitting the floor. “Don’t tell me you’re wearing that suit—looks great, by the way—to see my mum?”
He gives me the most disarming lopsided smile on his way out the door, and my insides instantly reach melting point. Or boiling. Hard to tell. “Only get to make a first impression once, Aries.”
“You’re crazy,” I call. “We can’t just show up at her door. We need to tell her we’re coming.”
“All in hand. Get dressed,” he replies before his deep chuckle fades down the corridor.
God, that man is soooo sexy. I want to race after him in my tiny pyjamas and jump on his back like a monkey. Nibble his neck. Make him carry me back to bed. But I do none of those things. I squeal and jump up and down on my tiptoes in the safety of my room. I’m going to see my mum. And she’s going to meet Matt.
I hope she keeps all her woo-woo stuff locked down . If she starts talking about me and Matt having some other-worldly soul-deep connection that spans lifetimes, I might have to abort the visit early. There’s only so much of that stuff a man like Matt can take.
I get dressed and ready in record time, and when I get downstairs Matt hands me a coffee and a croissant. I’m still half-convinced I’m dreaming when he says, “All set?”
“Yup.”
“Morning, Aries,” Nico greets, and it’s only then I notice him and Kate standing behind me.
“Oh, hi. Thanks. For this… you know…” I’m waving my hand around to indicate the house, but I’m so inarticulate and obviously flustered that Kate giggles and Nico shoots her a disapproving look.
“Come on, you,” Matt says, putting his arm around me and ushering me towards the front door, but not before I’ve seen Nico raise his eyebrows and glance at Kate, who answers with a smirk and a shrug. I can’t help smiling, because the way Matt said ‘you’ before he grabbed me warmed me all the way from my toes to the crown of my head. And the fact he did it right in front of his brother and Kate somehow makes it better . As if them witnessing it, witnessing us , validates whatever this relationship is.
The car is waiting outside, driver at the wheel. Matt opens my door, and I shuffle across the leather and buckle in.
“We’re not driving, are we?” I question as Matt enters the other side of the car. “Because you know we won’t be back by dinner if we are.”
“God, no. I’m not sitting on the A1 all the way up to Scotland.”
“Okay, so… Easyjet?” I wink.
“Nooooo,” he says, long and slow, teasing me for teasing him.
“Prince Harry travelled on Easyjet. Pretty sure Wills and Kate did too.”
“Publicity stunt. I’m not into that bullshit.”
I laugh, and he smiles as he slides his fingers between mine. Linked together, we sit in the back of the car.
After a while, the car slows, and I peer out the window. We’re in Battersea. The London Heliport .
I let out a noise that’s somewhere between a squeak and a chirrup. This is insane. A helicopter, so I can see my mum for the day?
I glance over at Matt, but he’s staring out of the window. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” I tell him.
He turns to me, smiling. “I know. I want to do it. I want to meet this superhero mother of yours who raised the woman I…”
My heart beats frantically, my mind not daring to fill in the blanks. “The woman you what?”
He presses his lips together and my heart sinks at the idea that he’s not going to reply at all, when he says, “The woman I like the most of all women in the world.”
My insides turn to goo. It’s not quite ‘love’, but it’s somewhere close.
“I like you the best too.” I’m grinning so hard that my cheeks ache.
“Right, well.” He gives a stiff nod, like we’ve just negotiated the world’s most awkward business deal. “Good.” He heaves a breath, then, “Plus, I can’t bear the thought that you’re wasting your time with me and my children when your mother is sick.”
This silences me, and I realise all of a sudden how much of my energy I expend locking away my feelings about Mum’s sickness. It’s been relentlessly hard, all the rounds of chemo and how sick they made her. Losing her hair. Not being able to keep down any food, and then not being able to taste it when she finally could. I grit my teeth. Perhaps if I keep my mouth shut tight I can keep everything locked inside a little longer.
I stare out of the car window, forcing my thoughts away by focusing on the view. “I’ve never been in a helicopter. Is it safe? I’ve never thought those things looked safe. And there was that story about the one—”
He squeezes my hand. “Stop. It’s safe.” He lifts my hand and kisses the back of it. It’s such a small, tender gesture that I’m entirely distracted from my helicopter-induced anxiety and my concerns about Mum.
It only takes twenty minutes to park the car, get out, pass through the lobby of the Heliport where Matt stops to sign a few documents, and out onto the tarmac. The helicopter blades aren’t moving, but I lower my head just in case.
Matt laughs, pulling me close. “You don’t have to duck. You’re not that tall.”
Inside, the seats are cream leather, the floor a rich blue carpet. It’s more spacious than I expected; I can stretch my legs out. There’s a fully stocked hamper set out in front of us, with a bottle of chilled champagne and two glasses at the top.
Matt helps me fix my headset, his fingers stroking the skin of my face as he gets it in place.
It’s terrifying when we lift off. So noisy. It feels like I’m rattling around like a bean in a can. I reach for Matt’s hand and grip it so tight he lets out a surprised chortle. “Ow. I need that hand for later.” I hear his voice through the headset; it’s too loud to have a regular conversation.
I giggle and let go, but he immediately takes my hand again and squeezes. My fingers tingle and I wonder if his do too.
When we’re in the air, I stare out the window at the sights of London below. I can make out the Hawkston Mayfair hotel from here, and I get a strange reality shock. I’m in a helicopter with one of the richest men in the world, and I can see one of his hotels from the sky.
What the hell is going on?
By the time we arrive at Mum’s, I’m still buzzing with adrenaline from the flight. Overhead, the sky is dense with grey cloud. Oppressive. Matt stands next to me, looking devilishly handsome and completely out of place in my mother’s little cul-de-sac.
I dig into my pocket and remove my keys for the small, pebbled-dash semi. The glass in the PVC front door is thick with frosted patterns across it. I go to unlock it, but I pause.
“What are you to me? I mean, what am I telling my mother?” I ask, realising I have no idea what the story here is.
Matt looks down at me from his position on the doorstep. “What do you want to tell her?”
“Boss. You’re my boss. My incredibly handsome—”
He cuts me off with a kiss and I melt like ice cream on a hot day. A puddle held together only by the cone. His lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth. My brain sizzles.
“Hello, Aries,” comes my mother’s voice. We break apart to find her in the doorway, smiling as she looks between me and Matt. I’m delighted to find her amused, but she looks so frail that my heart aches. A purple and turquoise turban is wrapped around her head, no doubt hiding what remains of her hair. Maybe I shouldn’t have left at all…
“London’s treating you well then?” she asks, barely holding in her laughter.
“Mrs McClennon,” Matt says, “I’m—”
“You’re London. Yes.”
Matt’s eyes dart to me, one eyebrow raised, like he has no idea what to make of this response. “I’m—
“I know who you are,” Mum replies, pulling me into a hug. She’s so thin, she feels like a bird in my arms. Tiny bones. “You’re the hotel man,” she says to Matt over my shoulder. Then she steps aside, indicating we should follow her into the house. “This is the most wonderful surprise. I’d say it’s romantic, bringing Aries up here, but I don’t suppose it is. Coming to sit with a sick woman for the afternoon isn’t my idea of romance. And I’m quite sure it’s not yours.”
Matt half-smiles, half-frowns, clearly unsure what to say to that. He slides an arm around my lower back and together we walk inside. The narrow hallway seems even smaller than I remember when Matt’s tall frame fills the space. He wrinkles his nose a fraction, noticing the smell in the air. It’s incense, white sage if I’m not mistaken, but beneath it there’s something else… ham soup, perhaps. Maybe a touch of bleach too. It’s not unpleasant, but there’s something about it that reminds me of hospitals or old people’s homes and an edge of panic bubbles up in me. What if Matt hates this… my family home… What if he thinks that none of this is good enough for him?
Guilt and shame strangle my panic. What am I thinking? I love my mum and I love this house, and if it’s not enough for him, then that’s his problem.
Just then, as if he knows what’s flashing though my mind, he squeezes me tighter, and presses a kiss against my hair causing a sense of calm to flood me.
I smile up at him and extricate myself from his embrace so I can help Mum, who is weakly walking ahead, one hand on the wall for balance. She’s so much frailer than she was when I left and its only been a few weeks.
“Can I use the bathroom?” Matt asks.
I nod towards the stairs.
He raises his eyebrows as if to say, ‘ Really? Upstairs? ’
“There is no downstairs toilet,” I whisper.
His lips form a quiet ‘oh’ of sudden understanding. Has he ever been in a house that doesn't have a downstairs bathroom? He heads up the stairs, leaving me wondering if this is the smallest house he’s ever been in.
Mum is panting by the time I get her back to the sitting room, where a bed is set up in front of the TV. Lizzie, the carer we interviewed and employed before I left, is fussing over the sheets.
“Aries, so lovely to see you.” She hugs me. “Your mother wanted to answer the door herself. I said not to, but she was having none of it.”
“I’m not dead yet,” Mum says with a laugh that sounds genuinely amused, but it makes me inwardly wince as I help her lower to the sofa and sit next to her. “You should see this man she’s brought with her, Lizzie. Looks like Clark Gable. Just like I suspected.” She winks at me.
“I saw him,” Lizzie says, nodding at the open door we’ve just come though. She must have caught a glimpse of Matt on the way in. “I wouldn’t say Clark Gable though.” She screws up her face as she thinks. “Maybe Gregory Peck. Actually, no—”
I scoff. “Don’t tell me Mum's sucked you into watching those old movies?”
Lizzie smiles, and Mum says, “Those are classics. I’m reliving my youth. They say it keeps you young.” She leans in and winks at me. “Keeps you alive.” Sitting back, she looks me over, lips a tight smile, eyes delighted. “Anyway, doesn’t matter what he looks like when he’s making you look this happy.”
Lizzie and Mum both stare at me, grinning, and my face grows hot. I dip my head and tuck my hair behind my ear. Mum strokes my cheek with the back of her hand, her skin cool against mine. “It’s okay to be happy, Aries.” Out of nowhere a lump expands in my throat and I try to swallow it down. “I want you to be. I’m not afraid of dying—”
“Mum, please.”
But Mum’s attention is on the door, where Matt is standing, leaning against the frame. Not even the threat of tears pricking my eyes can blind me to how incredibly handsome he is.
“You really should be in the movies,” Mum says to him.
I cover my eyes with my hand and groan. She did not just say that.
Matt frowns. “Thank you… I think. Can I get anyone a cup of tea?” For some unknown reason, we all laugh and he looks at us like we’re a bunch of unruly groupies, which makes it even funnier.
“I like him,” Mum whispers. “He’s got a little anger though…” She waves her hand in the air, indicating Matt’s heart area. “But that can all be released, with a little work.”
Matt gives me a quizzical look, aware Mum is talking about him but clearly unable to hear what she’s saying. I’m glad because he’d think her energy chat is insane. I shrug in a ‘ I can’t control my mother, but I love her ’ type way.
“Tea for everyone, then,” he says before he turns towards the kitchen. A moment later, I hear him fill the kettle and flip it on, opening cupboards and searching for mugs.
There’s something delightful about a small house. You can walk inside as a total stranger and know your way round in ten steps. And oddly enough, it feels even more like home knowing Matt is in the next room.