23. Bash
23
BASH
By order of his mother, he’d been put on guest greeting duty, perpetually smoothing down the front of his jumper and pushing up the curl of hair from his forehead that annoyed him with how much it refused to stay in place. Bash would’ve gone back to the bedroom to steal some of Faye’s hairspray to tame the curl, but he wanted to give her space.
The vision he’d accidentally walked in on was imprinted on his retinas as a new permanent feature. He’d told Faye to lock the door if she didn’t want anyone to walk in whilst she dressed – meaning his excitable nieces – and she hadn’t.
Still, he didn’t know why he’d assumed he could walk in without knocking. He’d only wanted to fetch the watch he’d forgotten. Instead, he’d been halted by the sight of Faye opening up that soft white cotton towel like she unwrapped herself as a gift. Angels had sung and cherubs floated through a clouded sky. It had been a minute instead of the literal split second of Bash left stunned in the prime spot for a full view of her, and?—
God , he shouldn’t think about how he’d reacted too late to not see Faye completely naked without her consent. Guilt and desire mixed within him and neither side was winning. He’d resisted the hardening in his t rousers – because this was a family affair – with more willpower than he’d given to anything before.
“Son? Are you alright?”
“Hm?” Bash reined himself back from his daydream.
“You look as if your mind’s wandered off and found paradise.”
It had. It very much had.
Bash blinked long and hard and remembered where he was beside his father. “Sorry, must be the wine.”
“In that case, you might want to go easy tonight, Sébastien.” His father’s eyes wandered down to the half glass of red in his hand. Bash promised himself no more than one glass tonight and made his way in increments. When Uncle Mortimer began to talk nonsense, he’d go for the other half.
“Think of your liver,” Arthur added.
“Will do, Dad.” Bash only drank light socially anyway – another thing he’d learned not to indulge in to make himself feel better.
The last of the guests arrived in dribs and drabs. Bash knew some names from Christmases and birthdays of years gone by, but he didn’t spend enough time around his parents’ friends to hazard a guess at much more than that.
His social battery often emptied at times like this when there were so many strangers around him. It was exhausting to constantly worry about what people saw when they looked at him.
Was it the wrinkles by his eyes? Or the crookedness of a few of his teeth when he smiled? The grey hairs above his ears were a fairly new addition to the list. Did they look at his stomach and wonder why he clenched in so much? Or why he couldn’t seem to hold anybody’s eye for more than a few sentences at a time.
Exhausting . Micromanaging the tension of each and of every muscle – keeping the right ones taut. Twisting himself into just the right angle to whoever he stood with took so many of the metaphorical spoons he’d told Faye about. He was better at letting go of control than he used to be, but damn there were strangers in this house judging his family even if they didn’t know it, and they would judge him too.
A few hours. That’s all he had to get through. He could do it.
Arthur moved to answer what should be the last ring of the doorbell, and the tap of heels along the upstairs landing made Bash turn.
“Woah … ” His chest filled.
He’d seen the pair of black heels poking out of Faye’s weekend bag, but he hadn’t seen the outfit to accompany it. The deep red ribbed dress hugged every inch of her body, curving around all of her outlines, and Bash was left stunned for a second time by her tonight.
She’d say she wasn’t perfect but she was perfect for him – Bash knew it already. He’d known it years ago. He couldn’t have designed someone more beautiful in all of her forms if he tried. He was surrounded by beauty and elegance every day, things that people paid thousands of pounds for, but in a room full of diamonds and art, he would still only look at her .
One hand floating over the bannister, Faye descended the stairs. She focussed on her feet but damn Bash wanted her to look at him. He moved and offered out his hand for the last few steps of her decline, and when their palms touched, Bash couldn’t care less if the final guests to arrive behind him had their gazes upon him or not.
He knew it was a long shot, but that screeching car from earlier could’ve found a slippery patch of the lesser used road, swerved, and?—
Bash didn’t want to give his heart another jumpstart thinking about what could have happened, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what did .
In the heat of the moment, adrenaline coursed through his veins and he’d almost kissed her. He’d wanted to desperately. But crossing that line out of fear wouldn’t have been right. Knowing Faye, she’d have been flustered in her own state of shock, and he’d have pa ssed such a kiss off as relief to be unharmed. It would have been meaningless in her eyes in the same way she’d brushed off his body’s reactions to waking up next to her as nothing, too.
So he’d restrained his impulses and drawn himself back.
Faye didn’t seem to realise it was his hand that she’d taken until she’d taken it and met his eyes.
Bash’s spine and shoulders loosened as she stood in front of him, and he reluctantly let go of her hand, clutching the wine glass in his other a little tighter instead.
“Are you alright?” Faye asked. With the way she’d curled her hair, it was even shorter than normal and off of her shoulders.
His tongue tied like he’d forgotten how to speak, so he nodded. “Just … ” Oh boy, you’re done for, Sébastien. “I’ve not seen you dressed up for a while.”
Faye adjusted the lay of the long sleeves and shifted the deep red fabric snug at her hips. She carried her weight in those hips – her words, not his – which were accentuated by the dress. Bash was going to write a thank you note to whoever designed it just for that. His hands wanted to grip there and hold her against him. She’d be so soft and pliant, he just knew it. And the shadow beneath the little swell of her stomach he knew she hated – her words again – damn . Sexy as hell.
This limerence he lived in was taxing. It’d been so long that he should have solidly let go of the hope of Faye by now, but still Bash’s heart clung to her.
He needed to stop wandering his eyes over her body or else he’d be done for. Gone . Too consumed to think straight at his family’s Christmas party where his little nieces ran around giggling. The sound of them brought him back to planet earth.
“Are those Christmas trees?” he asked as his gaze drifted to Faye’s ears. One of the dangling pieces of glossy clay shifted as she let him feather his finger along the edge.
“Maisie made them for me as her Christmas gift. I could’ve gone with the snowmen but I thought the green went better with the dress.” What Faye said didn’t need to sound so subdued, but Bash knew why it was.
“I agree.” He let his fingertip trace down her neck for just a second, feeling Faye shudder beneath him as he drew his hand away.
Touching her might’ve crossed a line, but Bash’s thoughts weren’t entirely connected to his actions just yet.
Their new exuberant guests and Arthur moved past them towards the rest of the party. Maybe there was something in the look of this scene they’d created, because they were left alone here without a word.
Bash had wondered in the last half an hour how he’d be able to look Faye in the eyes again without replaying what happened earlier, and apparently he wasn’t the only one. Faye didn’t let her gaze settle anywhere above his nose for more than a couple of seconds. This awkwardness wasn’t right. It wasn’t them .
Faye shifted on her heels, tugging on the ends of her sleeves. “About … earlier … ”
“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, Faye. If you think I’d judge you, then you’re wrong.” The softness in Bash’s voice didn’t detract from how much he meant it. He wouldn’t let this elephant in the room simmer all night until they were both too uncomfortable to even be near one another.
He waited until their eyes gradually met again to take one of Faye’s wrists and gently squeeze. “I should’ve knocked because the door was closed. I’m sorry.”
Twin dots of blush darkened the colour on Faye’s cheeks. “How much did you honestly see?”
Did she know how loaded that question was? How much was he willing to lie?
Fuck it.
Clearly he’d embarrassed her, and Bash knew enough words to hopefully give her even a glimmer of her smile back .
“Enough to know … Tu es superbe. ? * ”
Her head slowly tilted towards her shoulder, and a small smile began to dance on Faye’s lips.
Bash arched a brow. “We good?”
“Always.” Turning her wrist under his palm, Faye squeezed his fingers then dipped her gaze to his other hand, and the way her shoulders relaxed eased Bash’s worries. “I think I’ve earned the right to some of that wine, don’t you think?”
Bash gestured off towards the dining room where all of the drinks were presented like school children on parade. “After you, milady.”
Faye guffawed. “Where on earth have you heard that?”
“I don’t know.” Tugging his ear, Bash followed behind her. “One of these guests called his wife it earlier when they arrived and … ”
As he rambled on, Bash decided that he’d tell her. Tonight . He was going to tell Faye that she’s his entire world, because he had to. He’d left it too late for the last eleven years and he couldn’t pretend anymore. It was agony. A pierce straight through his chest every time she went on a date with someone else.
Call him selfish, but Bash didn’t care.
He’d been an idiot.
And it was time to change that.
This Christmas Eve party might be the best one the Phillips-Dumont household had thrown yet. The doughnuts had been a success, and the girls had managed to keep themselves out of trouble for long enough that Saira let them stay awake for an extra half an hour, which in kids’ terms was the whole night.
Michèle’s buffet spread of typical English finger foods with a healt hy volume of French cuisine thrown into the mix was delicious. So much so that Bash focussed on appropriately piling up his plate instead of on the people who’d watched him do so.
How could he ever resist his mother’s chouquettes ?
The atmosphere in the house was like stepping into a warm and cosy fairytale and Bash was surprised by how much he’d enjoyed himself through the small talk. Uncle Mortimer hadn’t yet insulted any of the guests that he was aware of, which was a bonus. Though there was still plenty of time.
Tossing back the last bite-sized sausage roll from his plate, Bash wound his way between guests sipping their wines and whiskies to the main living room where he found Matt in the corner peeking inside gifts guests had brought.
There was no end to the people who’d wanted to talk to him tonight, and Bash was glad no one else stopped him as he edged around the room.
“Who spiked the eggnog?”
Matt jumped out of his skin, somehow not managing to turn any attention to himself. “Don’t look at me,” he said defensively, switching to French as if it was their own secret language. Both in their thirties, and neither had outgrown that boyhood fun. “I saw Maman tipple something into it earlier.”
Bash lowered his voice until he murmured, “The woman is going to get everybody drunk.”
“Which is always great for making a party better.”
“Yeah.” The distracted sarcasm rolled right off of the tongue as Bash cast a glance through the living room, adjusting the way his jumper clung to his stomach. “Have you seen Faye? She’s disappeared.” He wanted to check she hadn’t gotten trapped in a conversation with the Tweeds or was hiding in a corner somewhere like Matt seemed to be doing.
“Are you worried another man is going to swoop in whilst you’re not looking? ”
“Who’s going to try? The average age of males in this house right now is sixty.”
“Faye might be into that.”
Bash flattened his glare across his shoulder. “Trust me, she isn’t.”
“Speaking from experience?” Matt leant in slowly. “Oh wait … you don’t have any.” A winded grunt flew from his lips when Bash elbowed him in the gut.
“Shut up and tell me where she went.”
“She was on the patio last I saw.”
Finally, a straightforward answer – one that made Bash turn his face to the window sills coated in snow. Worry worked its way into his bloodstream. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Dad got the fire going for once.”
“I’m going to check on her.” Clapping his brother on the arm, Bash began to step away.
“Bye.” Matt dismissed him as though he’d already known he hadn’t planned to hang around for long.
Depositing his empty plate in the kitchen, Bash figured if there was enough determination in his stride then no guest would stop him for a chat, all the while searching for Faye like a truffle hound as he passed around polite smiles.
He itched just to have her on her own. Whilst the sky was dark and starry and the thin dusting of snow covered the grass like icing, log fires burned and string lights twinkled and glowed, it was the perfect place to do it: finally tell Faye of his feelings he’d promised himself he would confess tonight.
He just needed to get her alone.
Selfishly he hoped he’d find her outside and maybe she’d have grown cold so he’d have an excuse to be near to her and keep her warm.
There’d been a moment in a conversation earlier with his parents’ neighbours where he’d shuffled behind her to let another guest squeeze through. His hand had gone to her back when he’d overbalanced, lowe r down than was friendly, and all Faye had done was turn her chin across her shoulder, eyelids batting, and smiled. So Bash had let his hand stay there, his thumb occasionally moving back and forth across her spine to test the water. The knitted fabric of her dress hugged her body so snugly that it radiated her warmth as if there was nothing there.
Matt was right all those weeks ago: Christmas was romantic, and this was the perfect time to tell Faye how he felt about her. Away from work. Away from the innate stress that was London.
Bash slipped out through the kitchen’s sliding doors onto the patio. The al fresco dining had a few brave souls sitting outside in their coats, but he couldn’t see Faye. How long ago had Matt seen her out here? Maybe she’d already gone back inside.
Then he heard her laugh.
The patio curved around the side of the house to where Arthur had positioned no more than fifty potted plants, a couple of benches, and string lights around the lesser used side door of the annexe. The whole space was a small slice of countryside heaven, completely undercover from the snow slowly melting and dripping down from every jutted angle.
Of course Faye would have found her way around there.
The scent of smoke from the log burner drifted on the gentle wind whirring in the crevices of the walls. Wishing he’d put on a coat, Bash’s brogues clicked on the bricks.
Another voice joined Faye’s laugh; older and definitely masculine, but soft. Bash stepped back before turning the corner and just listened for a moment, which was polite speak for “eavesdropping”.
“How is the business going?”
Dad? Why was he out here with Faye? Not that Bash didn’t want his father and best friend to get along – the opposite was true, in fact.
Frowning, his arm scraped on the brickwork of the house as he edged closer to the corner of the house. He couldn’t see either of them but they’d definitely gathered around the log burner .
“It’s good. Great, actually.” Faye’s voice lowered for what she said next. “We’ve just bought a lease on a new property in Manchester to open a second bakery.”
Air shot into Bash’s lungs.
Manchester? Lease?
Hang on. What second ? —?
“That’s amazing!” his father praised. “Will you be moving out of London?”
Faye hesitated, and that pause was enough to make a lead weight sink through Bash, because he already knew the answer.
“Yes.”
His stomach bottomed out.
“For a year or so while the new bakery gets settled.” Faye added, “But … please don’t say anything? I haven’t told Bash yet.”
“You don’t need to,” he announced before he could stop himself.
Jaw set and back teeth hurting from the force of how they crushed together, Bash rounded the corner and met Faye’s startled eyes. Ignoring his father, he was sure that he hadn’t overheard wrong. There wasn’t anything at all he could misinterpret in what she’d said.
Guilt slashed over Faye’s face. “Bash … ”
The shivers that curled down Bash’s spine and crept under his skin were like pinpricks of ice, a sensation tickling at the corners of his eyes.
After every single thing – every tiny detail and achievement, momentous or not – that they’d shared in the last decade, how could Faye have not told him this?
For the first time in his life, Bash couldn’t stand to look at her anymore.
* ? You are stunning.