33. ARIES
33
ARIES
G et through the party.
And then what?
I spent half of last night staving off the need to cry into my pillow, the other half tossing in light sleep that leaves me foggy-headed when I wake.
Why did I let a teenager eke a promise out of me that was not at all in his best interest, or mine now I come to think of it? I’d been so angry at Matt… so furious that he treated me so badly in front of his family that I neglected my duty. But in my defence, Charlie had been very convincing, and I hadn’t wanted to sour the holiday either.
Today, that sense of doom that has been plaguing me since Covent Garden is shackled round my ankles, weighing me down. I messed up. It was a massive error in judgment and I’m surprised Matt hasn’t fired me.
Maybe that’s what he meant by ‘ Get through the party’ . Get through the party, and then I’ll fire you. My mind’s been so off the job, I’ve left Lucie settled in front of the cinema screen watching The Little Mermaid again while I help Alec with party preparations for later.
“What’s wrong?” Alec says as he adds the finishing touches to the birthday cake. “You look beyond miserable.”
Matt’s words rattle around in my empty skull, even as I try to stay present and focus on Alec. We both made a mistake .
What does he mean? Does he think we… us … is a mistake? Am I his mistake?
I force a smile. “It’s nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Like hell it is. Is it him? Is it Mr Hawkston? Need me to have a word?” He puffs out his chest like he can be man enough to stand up to Matt Hawkston, but a smile teases at his lips, and I know he’d never dare.
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”
He adds a final icing flourish to the cake and stands back to admire his work. It’s an epic two-tier cake that looks more like a wedding cake than a birthday cake.
On top, it says Happy 17th Birthday Charlie in a gorgeous chocolate icing scrawl.
“Help me lift it into the pantry?” he says.
“No way. I can’t be responsible for something like that.”
“Come on. I can’t leave it out here. Lucie will stick her fingers in it,” he says.
I laugh and help him move the cake. We place it down on the table in the pantry, and I eye it greedily. “Maybe if I take a small bite, right here”—I dip my head down to one side—“no one will notice.”
Alec grins and swipes at my hand, which is reaching out to the cake. “Get your hands—”
“Sleeping with the nanny. Really classy, Matthew. Really fucking classy.”
Gemma’s voice cuts through Alec’s words, and the two of us freeze. Her footsteps click down the stairs, followed by Matt’s heavier ones.
Alec’s eyes go wide, and he holds a finger to his lips, using his other hand to pull the door of the pantry closed a little more so we’re concealed.
“Not that it’s any of your business.” Matt’s deep, serious voice seeps through the gap in the door, caressing me like his touch. I can’t see them through the gap, but their voices are so clear I know they’re just outside. “But it’s over.”
It’s over ?
The words drive a blade through my windpipe. I’m choking and gasping all at once, but trying my hardest to do neither while Alec is standing right next to me. Shock spirals into sadness, tugging me down like an undercurrent I didn’t expect. I cover my mouth with my cupped hand.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
“I’m glad to hear it. I assume you’ll let her go? You aren’t intending to continue seeing the girl after you fire her, are you?”
“Mmm,” is Matt’s only reply.
“I sincerely hope not. Because—”
“Gemma, this is none of your fucking business.”
“I disagree. Mark’s boys saw the two of you fumbling in public like horny school children. That directly affects me. It has an impact on my life.” Gemma blows out an exasperated sigh. “A hand job, in the middle of Covent Garden. You’re a grown man, Matthew. With a public profile. You’re lucky it was only the twins and not some member of the paparazzi. Or the police. It’s disgraceful.”
I can feel Alec’s attentive stare and I use both hands to cover my eyes. I can’t bear the scrutiny. In the darkness, Alec’s hand falls to my shoulder, and he pulls me towards him, enveloping me in a hug. He’s scrawny compared to Matt, and he smells like buttercream icing and flour, but the comfort his hold gives me is exactly what I need. I cling to him, desperately trying to stave off the tears prickling behind my eyelids.
“I don’t owe you an apology if that’s what you’re waiting for,” Matt says. “And speaking of Mark’s boys, they’ve been bullying Charlie. He was black and blue at the end of term.”
“Pffft, what a load of nonsense. The boys wouldn’t touch a hair on Charlie’s head. Who told you that?”
“Aries. Charlie confirmed it.”
“I absolutely don’t believe it. The boys are angels. They adore Charlie. In fact, they’ve made him a cake for this afternoon.”
Alec pulls back from me, gesturing at the elaborate cake he’s slaved over and mouthing, ‘ What the fuck ?’, his face twisting with exaggerated outrage.
Why on earth would they have baked him a cake? Nothing feels right about that scenario…
The doorbell sounds.
“Ah,” Gemma says. “They’re here. I’ll have them put the cake upstairs.”
Panic roars loud and clear. We cannot serve that cake to Charlie. I’d bet my life on it they’ve poisoned the bloody thing with strawberry jam, hoping Charlie will have an allergic reaction.
Before I can think twice, I’m slamming out of the pantry, Alec’s desperate hand clutching at air in an attempt to stop me.
“No.” The word explodes, crazed and uncontrolled.
Both Gemma and Matt turn to look at me. Matt’s anguished gaze meets mine, then shifts over my shoulder to the pantry. His face hardens as Alec steps out sheepishly.
Gemma guffaws. “Looks like you aren’t that special after all, Matthew.” Her gaze drifts lazily over my form. “Your little nanny here clearly likes to cop a feel of any man in the vicinity.”
Matt’s eyes flutter closed a fraction of a second too long, but I’m not going to be deterred by whatever mistaken idea he has about what I’ve been doing hiding in the pantry with Alec.
“You can’t serve the cake the twins made,” I blurt. “Alec’s made a beautiful one. And those boys… they’ll have filled it with strawberries.” Gemma’s eyes pop, and I turn to Matt. “I swear it, Matt. The bruises on Charlie, you ought to have seen them—”
“If you’d told me, I would have,” Matt says, his voice slow and deep and full of a rumbling menace.
I should back down right now. Run away. But I don’t. “There’s no way they’d bake a cake that’ll be any good.”
Gemma cackles, casting her gaze to Matt. “She’s delusional. If you think for a second I’d let the boys make a cake with strawberries in it for Charlie, then you’re just as mad.” Her voice is light, frothy, like all this is inconsequential. “Where is the birthday boy, anyway?” When no one responds, Gemma turns and heads up the stairs. “Guess I’ll go and find him.”
“Please, Matt. Serve Alec’s cake,” I plead when Gemma is gone, tilting my head to where Alec is still standing by the pantry door, his hands clasped before him.
Matt looks from me to Alec and back again. The cut of his jaw is so severe, it makes me want to weep. There isn’t an ounce of softness in his expression. “You think those boys are going to poison my son?”
It sounds horrendous, what I’m accusing them off. They’re barely adults, boys only just grown up, no matter how horrible they are.
“Yes.”
He shakes his head, “Fuck, Aries.” The words hang on a slow exhalation, as though this is all too much for him. “Why didn’t you tell me at the time?” I know he means on the boat, when I first saw the bruises. His voice is so full of sorrow that my heart aches for him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
He runs a hand through his thick, dark hair, leaving it casually tousled. He looks so sexy that even amidst the turmoil in my body, my attraction to him breaks through as strong as ever. I take the smallest step towards him, but he makes no move to close the distance between us.
“Is this… is this over?” My words come out sharp but fragile, like shards of glass. “You said it was over.”
“Fuck.” He drives both hands over his scalp, tugging fistfuls of dark hair. His harried gaze darts to Alec before settling on me, and I know he’s uncomfortable that this is being witnessed. “I don’t know. I’m not going to tell Gemma what’s going on, am I? None of her fucking business.”
This does nothing to reassure me and my heart races in a wild panic. I’m losing him. I can’t stand still, but I don’t know where to go. What to do with my hands, my arms, my feet. Everything is shaking. “Matt, please—”
“Stop. Not now.” He swallows, his eyes like stone. Then, without another word, he follows his ex-wife back up the stairs.
I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I want to rush up the stairs after him.
A heavy silence descends, broken only when Alec whispers, “Did you really toss him off in the middle of Covent Garden?”