Chapter 11
Even later that night, when she and James were curled on the enormous squidgy sofa, both absolutely covered in cats, staring at an inane comedy show on Netflix, he spoke softly into her ear. A little shiver ran down her spine.
‘Tell me something,’ he said.
‘Anything,’ said Felicity.
‘Your dad… when did you last see him? Before today, I mean.’
Tears sprang to her eyes without warning. ‘The last time I saw him was when he walked out on us.’
‘What, when you were six? You’ve genuinely not seen him again since then? Not even at your mum’s funeral?’
‘Yup. And no.’
‘Wow,’ he whispered.
‘I know, and I handled it so badly,’ she said.
‘I was so shocked. I sent him away without even so much as offering him a coffee. I’m a terrible daughter, aren’t I?
No, don’t answer that. I’m not sure I can ever forgive him for walking out on us like he did, but now I’ll never forgive myself either. ’
The tears began rolling down her cheeks. Apparently, she’d opened up some kind of floodgate. It was all Andrea’s fault. Stupid Andrea. Trying to be nice to her and all.
‘Let’s not forget who the bad guy is here,’ said James, carefully. ‘You know, he abandoned your whole family. When you and your brother were tiny.’
‘How could I ever forget that?’ said Felicity, trying not to sound cross.
‘Just mentioning it in case you were somehow managing to feel guilty about someone else’s appalling behaviour.’
Felicity smiled through the tears. ‘Who me? Never.’
She picked up her phone.
Felicity: Any luck with that number?
Tristan… *tumbleweed*
She waited for a few minutes to see the ticks turn blue, then when they didn’t she threw it onto the sofa in disgust.
‘Bloody Tristan is bloody useless.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said James, his hand on hers, his gaze steady. ‘I wish I’d been there today.’
‘Thanks. I do too.’
They sat for a moment or two with their own thoughts. James reached up and wiped her tears with a gentle hand.
It was a kind gesture, but Felicity felt suddenly overwhelmed.
‘I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Not yet anyway. Is that okay?’
‘Okay. Whatever you say.’
‘Thank you.’
She smiled into his face and wondered – not for the first time or even the three hundredth time, come to that – what it would be like to actually marry this man.
Cut that out.
He smiled back and ran a hand through his forever unruly blond hair.
Look at that smile. Honestly.
He always seemed to have a knack for reading her mind. She blushed automatically and he lifted an eyebrow.
‘Surely you’re not thinking what I’m thinking,’ said James in a low voice.
Her face grew hot. ‘I guarantee we’re thinking completely different things right now.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on that,’ said James, pulling her closer against him.
‘Breakfast of champions,’ she muttered, half to herself, a little smile on her face as she snuggled against him, eyes growing heavy. Though the spirit was willing, the flesh was most certainly not. She was completely wrung out.
‘What?’ whispered James into her ear.
‘Never mind,’ said Felicity, waving a hand, and seconds later she fell into a fitful sleep.
The next day was a Saturday and, mercifully, they both had a day off.
After a leisurely breakfast of the ordinary variety in the ridiculously large kitchen in what she still thought of as James’s house, Felicity made a coffee and took it up to the office, where even though he was meant to be resting she knew she would find him.
Sure enough, there was James tapping away on the keyboard in front of his equally ridiculous Jack Bauer-type screen set-up.
Felicity felt a thrill run down her spine. No matter how much he claimed his job at GCHQ was boring, she never quite bought it. James Bond or not, it was still pretty sexy.
After a few seconds, the printer buzzed into life and coughed out a single sheet of paper. James handed it to Felicity and sat back down in the chair, looking triumphant.
Felicity stared down at the page, not comprehending.
‘What is this, J?’
‘That, my lady, is the phone number and address for your father.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. Harry Brooks has a mobile phone and everything. Now you can call him whenever you’re ready.’
‘How did you…? How on earth…?’
‘I had a name. That was enough.’
Felicity stared at the number on the page before her. She looked up at James who was still looking very pleased with himself.
‘I can’t believe you did that.’
‘It was nothing. It’s publicly listed so I didn’t even have to break any laws.’ This with a grin that showed off The Dimple to full effect.
‘I mean it. I don’t know what to say.’
She stared at him for a moment or two longer, eyes wide, tears prickling at her eyes even as a smile began to form.
James smiled back, a huge, warm smile, as if he was delighted to make her happy, then stood up and walked across the room towards her.
He took the paper from her hands, placed it carefully down on the coffee table, then pulled her to her feet.
‘You don’t need to say anything,’ he said, his voice growing husky as he looked down into her face, his thumbs wiping her cheeks gently. She could feel the heat of his body, and his nearness made her entire body tingle.
‘But I do. I need to say thank you.’
‘It was nothing. Honestly.’
‘Take me back to bed,’ she said, surprising even herself.
James’s eyebrows lifted to the ceiling.
‘Promise you won’t be thinking about your father the whole time?’
Felicity giggled. ‘Not the whole time, no.’
‘Gross.’
‘Sorry, I mean, of course, I promise.’
‘Then lead on, fair maiden.’