Chapter 9
Edie
Elizabeth reaches for her mug of tea, her gaze slipping to the boxes stacked against my kitchen wall, one of her immaculately plucked brows arching.
“Don’t say it. I could do without your judgement today,” I say, swiping the wet cloth I’m holding over the kitchen counter and scrubbing at it furiously.
It’s been a whole forty-eight hours since Dorian made me come in the passenger seat of his car like he wanted nothing more than to give me pleasure, then acted like a complete arsehole afterwards.
He hasn’t even attempted to contact me to explain himself, and that’s only angered me further.
In the last couple of days, I’ve moved through the hurt and disappointment. Now I’m just feeling incredibly stupid.
“You’ve been cleaning the same spot for the last ten minutes, Edie,” she remarks, swiping a strand of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.
She’s the only one who was gifted our mother’s beautiful hair.
In fact, she’s the only one who takes after her.
I wasn’t granted such exquisite looks, taking after my father, his Italian heritage giving me black hair, and a more olive skin tone.
Not that my mother’s beauty prevented my father from walking away almost thirty years ago after he chose to make a new life with another woman.
I don’t even know if he realises mum is dead.
“So? It’s dirty,” I snap, shaking my head free of those thoughts.
“I could help you sort out those boxes if you’d like?” she offers.
“For the last time, I don’t want to sort out the bloody boxes,” I say, throwing the cloth in the sink and glaring at her, a sudden, inexplicable rage making me lose my cool.
“Aunt Edie, why are you shouting?” Nina asks, stepping into the kitchen, a pencil gripped in one hand and a picture she has been drawing all morning grasped in the other.
“I’m not shouting,” I reply, puffing out a breath as her pretty cornflower blue eyes, so like Elizabeth’s, blink up at me.
“You were,” she accuses, stamping her foot just like Elizabeth used to do when she was a child. The two are like peas in a pod.
Elizabeth smirks and takes a sip of her tea.
“Okay, I was. I’m just feeling a little out of sorts, that’s all. I’m sorry.”
“Has this feeling got anything to do with that love bite?” Elizabeth asks, looking pointedly at my neck.
Like a guilty teenager, I immediately reach for the spot, covering it with my hand. “That’s none of your business.”
“What’s a love bite?” Nina asks, pulling out the chair tucked beneath the kitchen island and climbing up onto it.
Elizabeth and I share a look.
“You’re on your own with this one,” I mutter, leaning against the kitchen counter and folding my arms. I may be a teacher and used to answering difficult questions, but Elizabeth brought it up so she can deal with the consequences.
Elizabeth puffs out her cheeks before blowing out a stream of air. “It’s when someone—”
“Is it like a kiss? Two people only kiss when they’re in love. Isn’t that what you said, Mama?”
“Kind of…” She falters, wincing.
“Aunt Edie was kissing Dorian. Did Dorian kiss you again? Are you in love?” Nina asks, her fingers tapping the drawing as she looks between us.
Wait, what? She saw? Heat crawls up my cheeks as guilt churns my stomach. This is not going to go down well.
“I… Erm…We weren’t kissing… Shit,” I mumble as Elizabeth snaps her gaze to me.
“Who the hell is Dorian? And more to the point, why does Nina think you were kissing him?”
“Because she was,” Nina giggles, then puckers her lips and makes smoochy noises.
“This isn’t… I wasn’t…” Fucking hell. “Listen, Dorian is just—”
“A friend,” Nina finishes for me as she holds up her drawing that shows a rather impressive interpretation of what is clearly me kissing the arsehole. “This is Dorian,” she adds with a giggle.
“Please do not tell me that you had some man over whilst looking after Nina,” Elizabeth says, her voice rising with anger.
“Nina, you really are rather good at drawing,” I say, taking the picture and trying my best to defuse the situation.
“Answer the damn question, Edie. Did you seriously have some man over whilst looking after my daughter?” Elizabeth hiss-shouts at me.
“I did not invite anyone over,” I protest, rubbing my temple. I’ve got a pounding headache.
“Then why has Nina drawn a picture of you kissing Dorian?” Elizabeth says pointedly as she snatches the drawing from me and flaps it in front of my face.
“Listen, it wasn’t planned. He just turned up here, and I… Well, I…”
“Slipped and fell onto his lips in front of my six-year-old daughter?”
“It was an accident,” I protest, rather weakly.
Nina bites her lip, her eyes welling with tears. “I didn’t know it was a secret,” she whispers.
“Oh no, sweetheart, don’t cry. This isn’t a secret, and this isn’t your fault,” I add.
“It’s mine. Mummy’s just a little upset I didn’t tell her, and she has every right to be.
She loves you so much, and is very protective of you, as she should be.
This is a bit of a shock for her,” I explain, flicking my gaze to Elizabeth, who’s glaring daggers at me.
“Why don’t you go and put on the television in the other room whilst I tell your mum all about Dorian? ”
Nina looks at Elizabeth. “Mama?”
Elizabeth manages to suppress her anger enough to give Nina a reassuring smile. “Go on and watch some TV. We’re just fine, poppet.”
“Okay,” Nina replies, accepting a kiss from Elizabeth before slipping off the stool and skipping into the other room.
As soon as the TV turns on, Elizabeth rounds on me. “Start talking.”
“I had no idea Nina saw me kissing Dorian. I’m so sorry.”
“You had no idea? This is just getting better and better,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing at me. “I asked you to watch over her, not let her watch you copping a feel with some man.”
“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t ask him inside precisely because Nina was here with me. He turned up unannounced late at night—”
“So now you have random men popping around for late night nookie. Are you shitting me, Edie, you’re not twenty anymore.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. So, because I’m now a middle-aged divorcee, I’m supposed to just shrivel up and die, whilst my ex-husband can do whatever the hell he wants because it’s okay for a man to have a whole new life after a divorce, but I’m supposed to turn into a fucking spinster, spending her evenings knitting scarves and chatting to her five cats. ”
“You don’t have any cats,” she annoyingly points out.
“You know what I mean, Elizabeth,” I snap, throwing my hands up. “That’s a bullshit view, and you know it.”
“I—I didn’t mean. Shit. I’m sorry,” she says, reaching for me and squeezing my arm. “You have every right to happiness after how that arsehole treated you.”
“You think?” I add, more than a little sarcastically.
“Listen, I was just caught off guard, and whilst I still think it’s too soon to be jumping into a relationship with another man—”
“I’m not jumping into anything,” I protest, cutting her off.
“This is a me thing, not a you thing,” she continues, sighing. Her shoulders drop, and sympathy overwhelms me as I pull her into my arms, hugging her.
“I get it,” I reply, my tone softening as I ease backwards. “I know you’ve been terribly hurt in the past, and trusting any man is difficult for you. But for future reference, I would never do anything to put Nina at risk. I love her like she’s my own. You know that.”
“I do.” She gives me a soft smile. “So, do you want to tell me about your new man, Dorian?”
“He’s not really my new man. I’m not certain we’re anything anymore, actually—” I begin, but the insistent shrill ring of the doorbell prevents me from saying anything further. “Oh, what now?” I mutter.
“Don’t think you’ve been saved by the bell, Edie. I want to know everything,” she calls after me as I head towards the door. Whoever is on the other side better have an emergency, because the way they’re jabbing at my doorbell is beyond rude.
“What?” I yell, yanking open the door to find Henrietta on the doorstep, her arms filled with a huge bouquet of dark red, velvety roses wrapped, not in cellophane, but in silk and tulle.
There are so many I can barely make her out behind them.
Hanging from her fingers is a gift bag in the same dark red as the roses.
“Why are you yelling?” Henrietta trills, shoving past me and into the hallway.
“Did you know these were sitting on your doorstep? Aren’t they the most beautiful roses?
There must be at least fifty of them. But you need to watch the thorns, they’re sharp,” she reels off in quick succession as she storms into my kitchen.
“Come in why don’t you,” I mutter as I follow her.
“Oh, hey, Beth. I haven’t seen you for a while. How are you?” Henrietta asks, placing the roses and the gift bag onto the kitchen island before pecking her on the cheek.
“Are those for me?” Elizabeth jokes.
“I’d love to say yes, but that card clearly has Edie’s name written on it,” Henrietta says, snatching the card up and handing it to me. “Open it then.”
I take it from her, not certain I want to, actually.
“Well, who are they from?” Elizabeth demands, jerking her chin impatiently.
“Oh, I bet I know who they’re from. They scream Dorian. He’s definitely a red rose kind of man. Suave, sophisticated, passionate, and a little deadly,” Henrietta says, taking a seat and wiggling her brows at me.
“I don’t suppose you’ll let me open this later?” I ask, huffing out an exasperated breath.
“Get on with it,” Henrietta urges, grinning from ear to ear as she plonks into a seat at the kitchen island.
“Fine,” I mumble, opening the envelope and pulling out the card.
To my beautiful Edie, I’m sorry. You have every right to be disappointed with my behaviour.
I would like the opportunity to explain.
Please come to dinner next Saturday night, 8pm.
I have an apartment at the hotel. The concierge will be expecting you.
If it makes you feel more comfortable, bring Henrietta, too. Logan will be there. Yours, Dorian.