40. Chapter 40
Chapter 40
Cedric
T he next day, my muscles are protesting the stiffness of a night spent in a bed that’s not Delilah’s. Her presence has become addictive so quickly, it shouldn’t be possible.
And yet.
I get up with a groan as a soft yet persistent knock comes at the door, the reminder that Marcus is neither in Cambridge nor Brighton, and certainly not in his new house as it’s not exactly homely yet, metaphorically slapping me in the face.
It’s fine. Joe doesn’t know, otherwise we’d know. What Joe appreciates more than making others’ lives miserable is practicality. If he finds out Marcus is here, I’m going to be forced to leave immediately. The thought alone makes me shiver with the fear of not getting to tell Delilah how I really feel. I don’t bother putting on a shirt as I open the door, my brother’s brilliant grin greeting me on the other side.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he says brightly, entering the room.
“It’s eight am,” I say as I pass my hands over my face. “That hardly qualifies me as a sleepyhead.”
“That whole sentence qualifies you as boring and I love you for it. Now–tell me all about the plan,” he says as he drops onto my bed.
I blink, reaching for the water bottle on the nightstand. “Plan?”
“Of course! The plan you’ve put together so that you can be with Lila.”
“Do you genuinely believe–” I sputter, putting the bottle back down. “Wait, what did you call her?”
“Lila? Her name? Well, nickname, I suppose.”
“ I don’t call her that, where did you even–”
“Faye called her that, and anyway–”
“What do you know about Faye? I swear to god, Marcus, you were supposed to come straight to the hotel.”
“She was throwing the garbage and I helped her out! Sue me for being a gentleman,” he says with an eye roll. “I merely introduced myself. I was supposed to live here, after all."
I flip through my clothes to avoid looking into his infuriating face.
“There are so many wrong things with the words coming out of your mouth,” I mutter, selecting a beige shirt, light brown pants and a matching blazer. I breathe in deeply as I hug the clothes to my chest. When I turn back to Marcus, he’s still looking at me expectantly, his limbs arranged too comfortably on the bed .
“First of all,” I start, trying not to lose my temper, though it’s nerves that threaten to make my voice shake. “Do not call her by a nickname. You met her yesterday.”
He raises a single ash-blond eyebrow, which I know translates exactly to ‘You’ve known her for weeks and you’ve been doing much worse’ , and I actively decide to ignore that.
“Second, you are not supposed to signal your presence from the top of the bloody bell tower–”
“There are no towers–”
“Because I’ve been working on the terms of your permanence in this town from the second I stepped foot on that pier, and I cannot have you jeopardize any of it. And third, what do you mean by ‘I was supposed to live here’?
Marcus shakes his head, a puzzled look overtaking his features.
“Come on Ced, you do not seriously expect me to go into this illegal exile in the middle of bloody nowhere.”
“That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”
He blinks at me, suddenly serious in a way I rarely see him. “Well, fuck.”
I button up my shirt as I join him on the bed. “What do you mean, fuck? We’ve talked about this extensively, Marcus. We signed Joe’s contract, we agreed–”
“I only agreed because I thought you’d find a way to get out of this absolute cluster fuck! To buy us time!” he says, green eyes wide and panicked. “I didn’t think you’d actually be okay with never seeing me again.”
My stomach churns with something unpleasant, my throat suddenly dry. “That is not fair, Marcus, and you know it. The only reason I’m doing this is because I’d rather never see you again than know he’s hurt you. ”
Marcus closes his eyes, letting himself fall back on the bed, arms splayed at his sides.
“How long do you think it will take for the old man to croak?” he asks after a while.
That draws a surprised sound out of me. “I don’t know, but if it’s of any comfort, there’s a good chance one of his secretaries will lace his coffee with bleach.”
“How do you figure?”
“It’s what I’d do if I had access to his drinks.”
Marcus eyes me dubiously. “You would?”
I nod, and although I’ve barely woken up, that bone-deep, tired feeling only my father’s name can conjure within me surfaces with a vengeance.
“For yours and mum’s freedom, Bumhole , I would.”
Marcus sighs, propping himself up on his elbows.
“So,” he says, and though he hopes to sound like his usual flippant self, disappointment still clings to his voice. “Are you going to ask Delilah to come back with you while we wait for Joe’s funeral?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I couldn’t ask that of her.”
“You could, though. You were planning on telling her everything, right?”
“Yes, but–”
“Ah, none of that,” he says as he hops off the bed in one fluid, impossibly inhuman motion. He shoots me a lopsided white grin and adds, “As someone wise once said, if you never try, you’ll never know.”
“I’m quite sure those were Coldplay.”
“What the hell do you know about Coldplay, old man?”
“For fuck’s sake–”
“I’m messing with you! Now, please take me to breakfast before I sink my teeth in Delilah’s pretty neighbor. ”
“Marcus Campbell, if you so much as–”
“Still messing with you!”
“I can never be sure,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Wait for me downstairs?”
Marcus mock-salutes, and disappears out the door with a flourish.
Once I’ve brushed my face and teeth, I grab the room’s keys and my wallet, stashing them in my blazer’s internal pockets. I pick up my phone and tap to Delilah’s number, my thumb hovering above the call button for a minute. I don’t know whether wishing her a happy birthday via call first is pointless, though the possibility of her disappointment makes the decision for me.
The line barely rings once before her clear voice replies, “Hello?”
“Good morning,” I say, my palms sweaty for some reason I can’t be bothered to dwell on. “I thought about pretending I’d forgotten, but… well. That wouldn’t have been realistic. Happy birthday, darling.”
Delilah
I bite my lip on a grin, grateful that, for once, Cedric can’t bear witness to the flushing of my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I say. “Though I wouldn’t have been upset, you know. You have so much on your mind.”
“Delilah,” he says, almost a sigh. “I thought you’d figured out by now that you occupy ninety-nine percent of my thoughts.”
“And the remaining one percent? ”
“A miserable mixture of my dickhead father and the ball of chaos that is Marcus.”
I chuckle, though I know he’s downplaying how much Marcus’s arrival and whatever their father is demanding from them is worrying him for my sake. I wish I could tell him I’d face it all with him, if he wanted me to… but there won’t be time for that. I swallow the lump in my throat. I need to take it minute by minute.
“You still don’t have to get me anything,” I say.
“Well, your gift has been ready for a while now, and returns are not accepted, so you might have to pretend you like it.”
“I have no doubt I’ll like it, since it comes from you.”
There’s a beat of silence from Cedric’s side until he says, “I hope your faith is not misplaced.”
“It’s not,” I assure him. “So I’ll see you later?”
“Of course,” he confirms. I’m about to end the call when Cedric adds, “Oh, and, Delilah?”
“Yeah?”
“You might want to check your doorstep.” He hangs up before I can say anything, and because I have always been more curious than it’s wise, I immediately pad toward the door. When I wrench it open, my jaw drops. Something close to a dozen bouquets greet me, a bee hopping delicately from the petals of the reddest of roses to those of a lavender-hued chrysanthemum. I’m used to flowers and tending to them, but the way they’re arranged is so beautiful, I can hardly tear my gaze away. The bouquet at the center of the composition snags my attention, the pink of the peonies the same as the vase where they gracefully bob out of. I step closer as Blaine joins me, enthusiastically sniffing before a sneeze erupts out of him. There’s a note tied to the vase, and I delicately pluck it off to read aloud.
One flower for every year you’ve made this lonesome planet a better place.
I wish I’d been there all along.
Happy birthday
– Cedric
I dab a stray tear off my cheek, chuckling wetly to myself. I want not to even bother to put proper shoes on and run to the hotel to kiss him senseless. Instead, for the sake of being sensible, I call for Faye, who I left to feast on muffins in the kitchen.
“Can you help me take my new inflorescence inside?”
I’m still smiling like an idiot, marveling at this wonderful gesture, when she calls back, “What the hell is an inflorescence?”