Chapter Thirty-Eight Mo
Chapter Thirty-Eight
MO
Netta and Mo had been strangely silent since they’d left Rhona’s.
Nobody had mentioned the elephant in the car.
Neither of them had even looked sideways at it.
It had been almost two hours of hush punctuated only by the occasional awkward observation about something or other they’d driven past, any real conversation gagged by a tangible feeling of limbo.
It was like that moment at the top of a Ferris wheel, swinging back and forth before the inevitable descent, half feeling like maybe you’ll plummet to your death and half like you could stay up there forever and just forget the ground, and all its real-world problems, even existed.
Social media had exploded with videos and photos of the Mitch incident only moments after they’d made their getaway in the limo.
Mo didn’t resent being caught up in it, though.
Not for a second. Netta hadn’t deserved the years of pain she’d lived with at the hands of Mitch cockhead Carlton, and she’d been magnificent.
Someone with her history could justifiably have crumbled in that situation, frozen into submission by Mitch’s beady fucking stare, but she’d been strong. Classy.
Regardless, he knew it wasn’t a good look for him to have been involved. His optics were currently subterranean, he guessed. ‘Maybe I should call Mav and tell him I’m not going to be around for Christmas,’ he said, as much to himself as to Netta, just to break the silence.
Netta shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat and groaned. ‘I’m so sorry for getting you caught up in all my rubbish.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said, glancing sideways at her. ‘I’m glad you had a chance to confront him. You did great.’
‘It’s not just tonight, though, is it? There’s a very clear chain of events that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t come to the UK. You wouldn’t be in this media mess or missing Christmas with your brother.’
Mo shook his head, relieved the quiet had finally been shattered. ‘I was already on the downward slope before you came,’ he said. ‘If it wasn’t this, they’d have found something else. It’s just my turn. This is how it works.’
‘Yeah, but …’
‘It’s really not your fault,’ he said. ‘I could’ve just told you to post the diary. And if anyone should feel bad about anything, it’s me. If I hadn’t asked you to come to London, then your history with Mitch would’ve stayed in its grave.’
Mo could still feel the warmth of Netta’s hand on his jaw, the pressure of her lips on his. That kiss was as permanent as any of his tattoos.
Netta took a moment before she spoke again.
‘I can’t believe I’m saying this,’ she said, ‘but I’m actually glad it was exhumed.
I didn’t stand up for myself back then, and all these years since, I’ve let the memory of him have so much power over me.
And now, after tonight, something’s different.
I feel, I don’t know, free or something.
I want to go back in time and hug my twenty-year-old self.
Tell her to let go of it all, then and there, so she can feel the way I do right now without having to wait so long. Does that sound crazy?’
‘No. I just wish you hadn’t had to wear it for nearly twenty years.’ Mo’s fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, fighting the urge to reach over and take her hand. The kiss— Fucking hell, that kiss. He was unravelled.
‘It’s getting pretty late. Maybe you should call Mav.’
Mo nodded and passed her his phone. ‘The code’s one nine oh four six three,’ he said. ‘Can you call him and put him on speaker?’
Netta scrolled through Mo’s contacts and hit call when she found Mav’s name.
‘Bro!’ Mav shouted over background din. ‘Fucking hell, man. I was just about to call you. Someone just showed me a video of you and Netta with that old guy at the gala.’
Mo cleared his throat. ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m calling about, actually. It’s a bit of a mess. Rhona’s sent me packing for a couple of nights so I’m not going to be around for Christmas. I’m sorry, mate.’
There was a pause at Mav’s end of the phone line. ‘Are you, ah, with Netta, by any chance? I saw some red carpet photos on Insta that—’
‘Yep,’ hurried Mo. ‘And you’re on speaker.’ His tone was pointed enough for even Mav to pick up on. He hoped.
‘I see.’
Mo could hear Mav’s smile. Little shit.
‘Nice to phone-meet you, Netta.’
‘Hi, Mav,’ she said. ‘Sorry about all of this. It’s kind of my fault.’
‘Don’t be.’ His voice was jovial. He was probably very pissed. ‘I’m out in the city tonight and there’s a lot of Christmas cheer going around. Doubt I’d make it home anyway, to be honest.’
‘Maybe stay away from the house for a bit, mate,’ said Mo. ‘The paps will be at the front gate for a few days, I’d say.’
‘All good. Hey, I’ve gotta go,’ said Mav. ‘And Mo? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
‘Got it.’
‘And Netta?’
Oh no.
‘I hope Santa still finds you tonight, but if not, I’m sure Mo has something in his sack he’d like to—’
Mo snatched the phone from Netta and hung up. His cheeks flamed. That cheeky little fucker. ‘Sorry about him.’ He glanced sideways to gauge her reaction. ‘He was born without a filter.’
Netta’s smile started in her eyes before it reached her mouth. ‘Kind of the opposite of you, then.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘From what I can tell, your filter wouldn’t let a quark through on a skinny day.’
‘A quark?’
‘It’s a … thing. Smaller than an atom. The smallest thing in the world.’
He digested her observation. ‘You think I hold everything in?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Yeah, I guess I do. Mostly,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I wish I was more like Mav, but then sometimes his big mouth is a liability. I don’t know which is worse.’
‘Maybe somewhere in the middle might be nice,’ Netta said. ‘It can’t be easy holding back all the time.’
Mo choked on his breath. She’d worked him out so quickly. So easily.
‘Then again,’ she said, ‘being compelled to crack jokes about your brother’s scrotum to a total stranger might also have its challenges.’
‘Yeah, poor little Mav. We should light a candle for him tonight.’
Netta’s laugh settled on Mo like confetti. ‘How much further is it to the cottage?’ she asked.
He checked the clock. ‘About half an hour. You’ll like it, I think. It’s nice. Cosy. There’s a fireplace.’
Mo glanced at her again, his gaze catching on her lips as they returned from another of her easy smiles.
She hadn’t mentioned the kiss. Maybe it wasn’t the cataclysmic event for her that it had been for him.
He turned the radio on to muffle his mind and the car flooded with the sound of Bing Crosby singing another fucking Christmas song.
‘Oh, I love this one!’ Netta sang along, swaying, her hands tapping the beat on her knees.
Before he knew it—and well before he could believe it—Mo had joined in.
And it felt good. She felt good. How the hell was he supposed to keep a lid on how he felt, trapped in a fucking firelit cottage by the sea?
He might as well be taking her to the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie.
He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, the contraction of his forearms a physical reminder of his strength. He could get through two days without making a fool of himself.
He visualised his quark-proof filter and made the tiny spaces even smaller.