8. Lizzy
Lizzy
Adeep, shouty voice woke me in the night. I bolted upright and checked my phone. Two a.m. The hairs sprang up on the back of my neck. Who the hell was it? Where was it coming from? He sounded close. And desperate. I glanced at Jane, still sleeping soundly in the next bed.
“Nala! Nala, honey! Please talk to me.” Clink. A stone hitting a window? “Please come down and open the door.” Clink.
The booming voice below sang an off-tune version of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect.”
A screech and thud sounded from next door—the window opening with a shove?
“Roberto!” Nala hissed. “It’s two a.m. You’re waking everyone. Keep your voice down. And stop throwing stones at my window. You’re going to break the glass.”
I checked on Jane. She was a deep sleeper and snuffling away. I got up and cracked open our window. Below, a tall, shadowy figure swayed. Presumably Roberto. Next to me, Nala was leaning out her window. I jerked back so she couldn’t see me.
“Honey, I’m sorry,” the guy below said, not lowering his voice. “I’m a desperate man. I have to see you.”
He sounded distressed. Was this Nala’s ex-boyfriend?
“Don’t call me honey,” she replied. “Are you drunk?”
Sounded like it. I loved how she’d told him off.
“No! Okay, two pints. I sound slurry because I haven’t been able to sleep since you left two weeks ago, and I’m so tired. Nala, please, sweetheart. I need to see your beautiful face.”
Oh. Despite everything, he seemed endearing, though I knew he’d caused her torment.
“Don’t sweetheart me. Were you out with those idiotic mates of yours?” Nala said.
“Nala, they’re devastated too. Said I’m the only one who made it out of our band of numbies to find a true queen. They’re well pissed off with me. But I came to this conclusion on my own. And coming here was all my idea.”
She made a strangled sound of frustration and anger. “Turning up in the small hours of the morning and waking a whole bunch of strangers isn’t an idea,” she hissed. “It’s you being bloody annoying.”
Ha-ha. Good reply, Nala.
Roberto gave a small huff of amusement. “God, woman, you’re magnificent when you’re fucked off. I thought I couldn’t miss you more.”
He seemed captivated by her. Maybe he had come around after all and realized the error of his ways.
Then he sang “Perfect” again. His utter despair, pitchiness, and the fact that he didn’t know the words made me smile.
He sounded sincere and romantic in a quirky, funny way.
In contrast, my ex-fiancé wouldn’t have bothered making a fool of himself to show his desperation—not that he’d had any—to get me back.
He’d be more concerned about getting in a good sleep to be fresh…
for a weekend on the couch watching sports.
Nala and Roberto, though, still had fire for each other.
Book motivation, maybe?
But they were second-chance, and the characters in my next book, Peony and Thomas, were friends-to-lovers. They didn’t have this couple’s history. But still…
Maybe Thomas knew this manor so well he scaled the walls, using the vines as rope, to save the day by giving Peony some urgent but disturbing news about her…
sister? He reached for her window. Then—fell two stories and broke his leg!
Peony would then attend his bedside for six weeks as Thomas healed and they fell in love!
Except a woman in Regency times wouldn’t be allowed to attend to an injured man for six weeks.
And hanging around his bedside, not for something life-and-death, rather than longing to be in his bed, sounded boring.
And why didn’t Thomas come through the front door?
He knew the family. Idiot. Sounded like one of Roberto’s numbies.
Scratch that idea. In the bin, like all my others these days.
“Roberto, if you don’t stop singing, you’re going to see the perfect bottom of my slipper flying at your head,” Nala said.
“Do it. I love those fluffy slippers of yours,” he replied.
Nala groaned. “Wait at the front door. I’m coming down—but only to get rid of you.”
Smart, considering the racket he was causing, but I didn’t like that Roberto was drunk. I’d better follow her and make sure she was okay. A man’s head popped out of the window on the other side of Nala. Even at night, I recognized that imperious profile.
Ugh. Darcy. Who needed him to stick his oar in?
I crept out into the hallway, catching Nala as she padded downstairs in her dressing gown.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“Yes. I’m so sorry to wake you.”
“No, no. Don’t worry about that. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“It’s my ex. He might be out of his mind, but he’s not a threat.
” She shook her head. “Can you believe he’s picked this moment to realize he wants to talk to me?
Typical bloody man.” She rolled her eyes and sucked in a breath.
“It’ll take a few minutes to get rid of him. I’m sure nothing has changed.”
A door creaked open. Darcy leaned out of his bedroom. “Can I be of any help?”
I made a pushing motion to indicate for him to keep his voice down. Clearly, in a Darcy-centered world, there was no modulating one’s voice even when everyone was sleeping.
His usual slicked-back hair flopped over his forehead. He padded toward us in bare feet, wearing a T-shirt that showed off his muscular shoulders and chest, which tapered to a narrow waist.
And gray sweatpants.
They were a whole story in themselves. Such a simple article of clothing.
What was the equivalent in Regency times?
Low slung on his hips, draped close over his powerful thighs, hinting at flexed muscles and…
he was turning slightly…a taut arse. I shot my eyes up to his face.
His handsomeness didn’t dull my irritation.
Inwardly, I fumed. Didn’t he have any old, baggy clothes for goodness’ sake? Something less…distracting.
Self-consciously, I crossed my arms over my thin top. “Do you want me to come down with you?” I asked Nala.
“Yes, we’ll be your reinforcements,” Darcy said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. What was this we? There was no we.
“No, I can handle him,” Nala said. “He’s a sweet, nice guy under all that idiocy and stubbornness. He’d never do anything to hurt me.”
She set off down the stairs.
Darcy edged toward me, and I caught a whiff of his sleepy, cottony smell. “Will she really be okay by herself?”
I surveyed his expression. This was the man who’d been rude to me twice tonight. Was he pretending to be concerned for Nala? But he was staring at me with a crumpled forehead, as if he was genuinely worried.
“She says he’s harmless,” I said. “Seems like another arrogant man who doesn’t believe in love.”
Giving him the shoulder, I crept down after Nala in the darkness to be sure her presumption was correct.
I paused at the front door, and I peeked out the side window.
Darcy parked himself at my back and looked over my shoulder.
I could feel him behind me. My annoyance at him changed into something else—first a prickling awareness building into a pull as strong as an electric force field, making me awake to every breath and shift of his body.
The body that was wearing the gray sweatpants.
He touched my lower back. It was a gentle touch, but the sensation shimmied all the way up my spine. Where did that response come from? Lizzy, you don’t like this man.
“Your hair is blocking my view,” he said blankly.
I made an exasperated noise and scrunched my curly mop to one side.
See? There. I couldn’t read anything positive into whatever this man did.
My feelings were loneliness, fear for Nala, and a strange warping of annoyance.
And maybe that dry spell I’d been experiencing since splitting with my dreary ex.
Directing my concentration outside the window, I focused on Nala and Roberto, ready to spring out the front door if needed. They were both visible under the porchlight, but this old house had thick walls, and I couldn’t quite hear their words.
Roberto was pleading with Nala, his hands stretched out to her. She crossed her arms, her face set. He made other declarations, flailing his hands around. She answered. He swiped under an eye.
Oh, he was crying.
Behind me, Darcy made a small sound in the back of his throat. Even he, the man with a stone-cold heart, was moved. Nala and Roberto moved closer to each other and talked for a while longer. Roberto dropped to one knee. Tears pushed at the backs of my eyes.
Given my history, I should probably be hoping for her to be cautious, to think a reunion over, like I would have. But this man was nothing like my ex-fiancé, and my romantic heart yearned for her to say yes.
Nala put her fingers to her lips, and her chest rose and fell. She blinked, as though she was crying now too. Roberto got to his feet and crushed her into a hug, and they both looked at each other, smiley and happy. Then they came together again, this time in a passionate kiss.
Behind me, Darcy cleared his throat.
For a second, I’d forgotten he was there, and now I became overly aware again of how close he was.
I turned and almost bumped my nose into his chest. Tipping up my chin, I met his gaze.
His eyes shone a deep blue, and he smelled of soap and fresh sheets.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach. I felt giddy. What was happening?
He swallowed hard. “They look happy,” he said in a raspy voice. “I think we can go back to bed now.”
We can go back to bed now. A ripple of heat spread through my torso. Had he heard it like I had? His face flickered with discomfort.
“Oh God, I certainly didn’t mean…” He trailed off, wincing.
I shook my head, as if the innuendo hadn’t entered my mind.
He gestured out the window, seeming slightly rattled now. “Who knows what that was all about,” he said dismissively.
Our confusing moment over, he was back to being a total prat, and I was back to totally disliking him and wanting to disagree with everything that came out of his mouth.
But I had to admit that Nala and Roberto did look happy, and it felt like we were invading their privacy, watching them locked in a fevered embrace.
They may not have inspired my writing, but they were certainly everything I loved about love. Time to go.
“So, love is not a mythical unicorn after all,” I said.
I gave him what I hoped was an eviscerating look, high-fived myself in my head, and turned to climb the stairs to my room.