Chapter 18.6
“I’ll take that in for you, George,” I offered the surprisingly fit butler. He moved around agilely for someone of his age. “You can wait in the studio for me.”
George’s mouth tightened, barely. He was gripping the tray which carried Matt’s lunch of tea and a sandwich. “I’m not sure that would be the most efficient use of my time, Ms DuMont.”
“I need your objective opinion on my solo variation. Matt’s busy. Plus, think of how good you’ll feel knowing you were there to witness the first dance session in the studio. Come on, I’ve been in there for a few hours and you haven’t stopped by once.”
He rolled his eyes. George actually rolled his eyes at me. I gripped the other sides of the tray and we had a careful tug of war for a few seconds.
“You know how clumsy I am with trays,” I warned. “Let go or it might fall. These cups look expensive.”
“It’s because I know how clumsy you are I’m not letting go,” he retorted in his stiff voice. I tugged a bit harder and he finally let go. I grinned at him and we walked out of the kitchen, me balancing the tray between my hands with George watching my every step.
When we got to the door of Matt’s office, George turned the doorknob for me. I jerked my head towards the glass wall in front of us. “Go wait for me, please. I’ll be right there.”
George scowled, but he did head for my new space. In Matt’s house. I had keys. To Matt’s house.
I edged the door open with my foot. Matt was pacing in front his desk. Wow. I’d never been in his office before. The décor was very much what you would expect of someone like Matt. Neat, clean, crisp lines of furniture, filing cabinets that looked trendier than the one in my office. Flat screen TV.
I stopped checking out the office and checked out my man instead. He was speaking in French. His tone sounded annoyed, and the voices coming through the state of the art telephone sounded meek.
Matt picked up his tablet and ran a finger over it, obviously reading something, then let out a stream of French words. I was sure one of them was a cuss word. It sounded like a cuss word.
I walked further into the office and Matt looked over at me. A small smile pulled the corners of his mouth up as I tiptoed towards his desk. I put the tray down and turned to make my way out. Matt leaned over his desk and pressed a button.
“Thanks, poppet.”
I stole a kiss and left him to it, closing the door on his irate French words. George was waiting in the studio, unhappily it seemed. It was midday, and I didn’t know what he was complaining about. What else was he going to do with his time?
I went over to the sleek and narrow fixture in the corner that held numerous pairs of ballet shoes and changed the ones I already had on to pointe shoes. Matt had thought of everything. I glided to the centre of the space and positioned myself in preparation to start my moves.
“Your music, Ms DuMont?” George queried.
I waved the question away. “I’ve heard it so many times, George, it’s on constant replay in my head. Remember, I want your honest opinion.”
I danced. I danced like I was alone. Just me and the air I moved through.
When I finished, George unfolded his arms and said, “Your proficiency is of a high calibre.”
“You like it,” I said, satisfied, maybe a little smug. I pulled the edge of the large t-shirt back on my shoulders. It was Matt’s. He was busy with work, and it was my way of having him close to me. Never mind he currently stood by the glass wall separating his office from the studio indulging me in a supportive round of applause. He looked great in that light sweater and casual dress pants. A bit much for staying at home, but hey.
“I am sure many would find it enjoyable to watch, Ms DuMont.”
“You like it,” I repeated, grinning from ear to ear. George huffed before turning on his heels and exiting the space, my space. I ambled over to the end of the large room where I could see into Matt’s office. He was about to take a seat behind his desk, attention on the paperwork in front of him with a tiny scowl on his mouth.
I tapped on the glass and he looked up at me. I turned around and lifted the bottom of his t-shirt to flash my leotard-covered ass. When I turned back around, he pointed in the direction of his door, then to me. I grinned and hurried out of the studio to meet him; knew that would make him leave his office.
“Hi,” I said as he closed his office door behind him.
“Hello,” he replied, fighting a smile.
“Do you have a lot to do?” I asked. “We could watch TV. You’ve been in there for hours, and I think you need a break. There’s a show on Sky that I want to watch.”
“What sort of show?” Matt asked suspiciously. During the early stages of our relationship, it had become apparent that Matt was a documentary/news sort of guy. And a remote control freak. I’d been subjected to his viewing pleasure for months, never being agile enough to wrest the control from his strong hands whenever we did watch TV. Every time I manually changed the channel, he would use the remote to flick it back and tell me to sit down so he could rub my feet. I only put up with it because he gave the best foot massages.
“It’s a movie.”
That suspicious look turned into a ‘definitely not going to happen’ look as he said, “I’ve got a lot of work to complete, poppet.”
“We can eat popcorn,” I offered in way of convincing him. “I noticed a microwave pack in the back of one of the cupboards.”
“I don’t eat popcorn. It must have been left over when the twins last stopped by and that was months before you and I got together,” he stated and my eyes widened in disbelief. Everyone loves popcorn. The sweet kind, the salty kind, the buttery kind; it didn’t matter your preference, it was popcorn and you loved it.
“That’s wrong, Matt. How can you not eat popcorn? And you say I’m crazy.” I scoffed.
A shadow flickered through his eyes. Maybe I shouldn’t joke about that particular word. Did he really think I was nuts?
“Please?” I wheedled, applying an exaggerated beseeching expression to my face.
“How long is it?” The negotiations began.
“About two hours, maybe less,” I said.
“What’s the storyline?” he asked.
I waved that question away. “Does it matter? We can get cosy on your back aching sofa for two hours.”
The suspicion was back on his features. “It’s dross, isn’t it? Some brain-stunting dross that you feel no guilt in subjecting me to.”
“I watched that documentary on macroeconomics with you, Matt. A three hour long documentary, and I didn’t complain once.”
“No,” he shot back with a reminiscent gleam shining from his grey eyes. “You complained several times, not just once. And chatted through half of it, which was distracting, to say the least.”
“You need a break,” I admonished. “I’m going to make popcorn. Come help, hon.” With that, I turned on my heels and started down the hallway in the direction of his kitchen. I had gotten around one corner before I realized he wasn’t following me. “Matt?”
“Go make your popcorn, poppet. I have to make one more call,” he yelled back.
I continued my journey to the kitchen, silently vowing that Matt would be watching the movie with me.
Fifteen minutes later, popcorn rapidly cooling on the side table and soft drinks getting warmer by the second, there was no sight of Matt in his entertainment room. I put my cell down. I’d been texting Dante on and off, and strode out of the room to search for my missing boyfriend. He was exactly where I knew he would be—behind his desk in the office, hurriedly writing something out on a pad of paper.
“The movie’s about to start,” I said from the open doorway. He glanced up at me, then back down to the pad of paper.
“I’ll join you in a bit.”
“No,” I said, walking over to pull the pen out his hand and put it down across the pad. “You’ll join me now, Mr Bradley.”
Matt sighed in resignation and got up from his chair. “And you say I’m the bossy one.”
I held my hand out and he took it, squeezing gently as I grinned triumphantly at him and led him out the office.
It was a horror movie, my favourite kind. Twenty minutes into it, I was pondering the disadvantages of making Matt join me.
“I’ve already spotted five inconsistencies, poppet,” he mused, kneading the balls of my feet as we sat in the darkened room on the sofa that was not to the level of comfiness I liked. “Why would a demon want to possess an unemployed girl, who obviously has no common sense? You would think an evil being dredged from the depths of hell would have set its sights higher. A corporate businesswoman is a more suitable match. That way, it would have a level of power through her management of the staff beneath her, not to mention all her contacts—”
I tossed a handful of popcorn at him. “Shh.”
Five minutes later, a sceptical, “Why on earth would she go there, poppet? It’s illogical and downright stupid. Does she not realize it’s dangerous for her?” came from his pursed lips. I launched another handful of popcorn at him, and he ran a finger along the arch of my foot, eliciting a giggle from me.
“I am trying to watch the movie, Matt. Shush,” I warned.
He did shush and resumed the rubbing of my feet. I was into the movie. Gasping in shock at the required times, scooting closer to Matt during the blood-crawling scary times, freezing into stillness as the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up during the times I began to question whether there could possibly be a grain of truth in the movie.
Then my cell rang loudly, right at the moment the demon-possessed girl was making a call to her next intended victim. I yelped in terror. Matt was halfway off the sofa, too.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered in shock, staring at my cell with, dare I say it, nervousness?
“Don’t say hell,” I grizzled, trying to slow my heart rate down as I paused the movie and reached for my phone. “Not when we’re watching this.”
Matt returned to his previous position, wiping a hand across his face and over his neck. Seemed he was getting into the movie, too.
“If you hear a strange voice on the other side of that call, poppet,” he said quietly, “you had better hang up immediately. In fact, let it go to voicemail. I need to see if she can suck this poor fool’s soul through his mobile.”
I checked the number on my screen and wished it was a demon-possessed girl ready to devour my soul over the phone lines. That would be a preferred demise to speaking to my aunt.
“Hey, Aunt Cleo, what’s up?”
Matt stiffened on the sofa, eyeing me for a moment before picking up his drink and taking a few sips.
“No, I’m fine. Sorry I haven’t called sooner.” I could see Matt’s eyebrows lowering. From now on I would need to find another word to use concerning my wellbeing in his presence. He obviously had a thing about me saying I was ‘fine’.
I listened to my aunt catch me up to speed with the going-ons of my uncle and my cousins. Then, came her demands.
“Yes, I promise to be home for Thanksgiving…No, I haven’t booked my ticket yet but I will…I can only stay a week, Aunt Cleo. I told you we have the production coming up. It opens the fifteenth of December…I miss you guys too, but I can’t keep flying to and fro like that…No, I can’t make Christmas this year. I told you the production opens on the fifteenth of December and it’ll be on for two weeks.”
Matt picked up my legs and placed them over his thighs, running his hands lightly across my calves. I sent him a distracted smile and listened to my aunt scold me for not visiting as often as she would like.
“I am taking care of myself, Aunt Cleo. Really, I am.”
Matt cleared his throat loudly, giving me gimlet eyes and mouthing “liar” at me. I showed him my middle finger.
“Thanksgiving is seven weeks away and I have loads to do before then, but I promise to book my ticket this weekend. Anyway, did you get the things I sent back with Sol? I hope you liked the bracelet, Aunt Cleo…Jenny isn’t my aunt, so, of course, hers isn’t as nice as yours…I’m glad Uncle David liked it. Is he still with that construction company? You told me last time we talked he was getting grief from the foreman.”
Matt was running his hands on the insides of my thighs. Most distracting. I tried to wriggle away to no avail.
“No, I’m not home at the moment.” Matt’s hands stilled. I dared not look at him as my aunt asked my whereabouts. “Umm, well, I’m at Matt’s.”
He resumed rubbing my legs with a pleased demeanour. Huh. He was pleased and I got the usual earful from my aunt about our relationship.
“This call must be costing you a fortune, Aunt Cleo. I’ll call you tomorrow. Give my love to everyone.” I hurried her off the call and picked up the remote.
“How is your family?” Matt asked pleasantly.
“Fine,” I murmured, testing it. Sure enough a grimace flitted across his handsome face. “Let’s see if his soul gets stolen. Hey, do you notice how the majority of times the black person gets killed off first? I mean it was what, two minutes into the movie when that dude got his butt eaten?”
Matt rolled his eyes and nabbed the remote from my hand. Seriously, he was a remote Nazi.
“He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, poppet. It had nothing to do with race. By the way, I know you’re going to be cleaning up this popcorn mess after the movie. I hope you know it as well.”
I grinned and got comfortable, well as much as was physically possible on the awful sofa, and I bet it cost him a fortune. Matt resumed the movie, but I didn’t pay attention to it. All I could think about were his words earlier this morning, about me not proving my love to him.
“Do you want to go home with me, Matt?” I asked softly.
Matt was close to the edge of the seat, peering at the ridiculously large TV. “Poppet, I don’t want to drive to Greenwich today. I thought you wanted to stay here.”
I nudged him with my foot. “Not there. I meant home home. For Thanksgiving. Do you want to come with me? You don’t have to. It’s not like you have to come. I mean, it’s just that I’ve met your family and maybe you should meet mine. You’ll probably be away on business, anyway. Forget I said anything,” I rambled and scratched my ear in embarrassment.
Matt paused the movie, put down the remote and twisted on the sofa so we faced each other. “I’d love to go with you.”
I scrambled over to wrap my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his soft lips.
Matt suddenly gave me a devious look. “In fact, I think you should call your aunt back right now and give her the good news. Tell her I’m quivering with excitement at the prospect of meeting her. And tell her I’m really, really pale.”
I shook my head and sat back down properly. “Start the movie, Matt, before I suck your soul out of you.”
Matt slung an arm around me and pulled me into the warmth of his body. “You can have my soul anytime you want it, poppet.”
“That’s blasphemous. Your soul should belong to Jesus, but I’ll take dibs on your ass.”
Watching a scary movie with my boyfriend was my new bliss. Things were fine. I was fine, and I had seven weeks of intense supplication to the Lord Almighty that my family would be welcoming to Matt. I hoped God didn’t hold my previous lack of communication against me, because only divine intervention could make it an incident-free visit. My eyes went upwards. Best to start praying.