Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
James the Penguin Man hadn’t even touched her yet, let alone kissed her, but despite what she’d said to Andrea, despite her conversation with Bex, despite the fact he was clearly going to a fancy dinner with his model tennis player Nobel Peace Prize-winning girlfriend or something equally irritating, deep down inside Felicity couldn’t shake the slightly irrational hope that he’d come to the centre to see her , not just the cats, cute as they were.
And now here he was, coming back on New Year’s Eve, apparently. Her heart leapt at the thought. Despite having been out of the dating game for longer than she cared to mention, she felt a tiny bit hopeful that they had some kind of an understanding, as Elizabeth Bennet would say.
So, she was beside herself with despondency when the day came and James didn’t show up. Andrea tried to reassure her that it was only a matter of time, that he’d probably got held up, but she had a bad feeling right down in the depths of her stomach as if she’d forgotten to eat. She tried to focus her attention on the cats, and as Gennie had started to show signs of wanting to play and even purring a little when Felicity was near, it was easy to distract herself for a few minutes at a time. But then she would remember the time and the pit-of-the-stomach feeling was back.
When the door banged shut at 7.30pm that evening, she felt she should be mad in some way and she fully intended to make him suffer a bit, but somehow Felicity found she couldn’t help the huge smile that instantly lit up her face. She turned from the sink in the cat nursery, arms covered in suds from the washing up, wiping her hair away from her face with the back of her hand, fully expecting to see James walking in with some kind of perfectly reasonable explanation for being late that she was entirely ready and prepared to accept.
Except it wasn’t James at all.
‘Hello, Felicity,’ said a familiar voice, and instantly the blood started pumping wildly around her body as if it was getting her ready to run.
A tall, dark, and very slick-looking man was standing in the doorway, polished tan shoes and smart navy suit looking hugely out of place amongst the paraphernalia of the rescue centre. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell of cat food and other related aromas as he moved towards her, deliberately ignoring the cats, who had immediately begun clamouring for his attention from their cages on either side of the room.
She took a deep breath.
‘Adam,’ she said.
He smiled that familiar dazzling smile that showed all his bright white teeth at once and not for the first time the mannerism reminded her of Tom Cruise.
Top Gun Tom, not Tropic Thunder Tom, mind.
He kept moving until he was only a few feet away from her and she had a sudden panic that he was going to try and kiss her in greeting. Surely even he wouldn’t be that bold. But, no, to her relief he stopped just short, right in front of her – inches away, really – and, in a panic, she grabbed a tea towel to dry her hands and give her something to focus on other than the familiar scent-and-lotion smell of him.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, neurons firing in all directions. What the hell is he doing here?
‘Merry Christmas,’ said Adam. His jaw muscle flexed, and she could feel his eyes roving all over her face in that familiar way he had, as if he were trying to memorise every detail. ‘Or should I say, Happy New Year?’
Felicity stared up at him, barely able to speak.
She couldn’t believe he was here.
And, after all this time, she couldn’t believe that he still had the power to make her feel the way she always had when he looked at her. As if she was completely inadequate. As if he’d mistaken her for some other woman. Some fitter, blonder, more attractive woman probably. Under his intense gaze she knew she was blushing, and she cursed herself for not wearing more make-up that day even as she hated that failed-feminist part of herself.
Being a woman is so complicated.
‘Surely you didn’t come all this way to say that?’ said Felicity, trying to keep her tone reserved even though she felt anything but. ‘You know I hate Christmas.’
At that he laughed. He actually laughed.
‘I know you do,’ Adam said, his dark eyes boring into her. ‘It’s delightfully charming, just like you. I missed you.’
‘It’s been three years, Adam. Three years. And you walk in here as if you just popped out for a bit!’
‘I know, I know. It’s shameful really. I’ve been watching you though.’
She looked at him properly then, a bit shocked.
‘I mean, not, like, in a stalker way, I mean I’ve been keeping track of you. No, that sounds worse.’
It was his turn to blush now, but in a very cool and collected way of course, the luminescent brown skin on his cheeks flushing slightly with pink.
‘You mean you’ve been facestalking me.’
‘Yes, yes that’s it. I’ve just kept up with you on social media, on Instagram and stuff. I wanted to know you were doing okay. Nice profile pic, by the way.’
She had thrown him a lifeline and he had seized it gratefully, not realising that it was a trap. And now she had him.
‘I’m not on Instagram,’ she said quietly, raising an eyebrow.
An awkward pause ensued, in which a look of anguish passed briefly across his features, but he quickly regained his cool.
‘Okay. Fine . If you must know the truth, I’ve been asking around about you for ages, and I had no joy, and then I bumped into a couple of your friends on a night out last week and they told me you worked here and, well, I had to see you.’
Bex and Sophie. It had to be. But why didn’t they tell me?
He moved even closer then, or so it seemed, still looking her up and down slowly.
He looks a bit pale . Tired, maybe, or just older. Still handsome though, the cheeky git.
‘I’ve worked here for a while. I can’t believe it’s taken you that long to hunt me down, Poirot.’
Adam shrugged; his face annoyingly passive.
‘Anyway, why on earth would you need to see me?’ she said, feeling the old familiar mix of anger and desire rise in her chest as he came ever closer. ‘Don’t you remember what I did to you? How I treated you?’
Adam made another dismissive gesture, a wave of the hand as if he was batting away a fly, which Felicity found intensely irritating.
‘It’s all well under the bridge and gone now. That was a long time ago, after all. Don’t worry about it.’
‘How can you say that? You were there. I was awful to you. Really awful. I always swore to myself that I would never be like… well, you know. Like him . And then I did exactly the same thing.’
Adam looked blank for a second. ‘Him?’
‘My dad.’
‘Oh yes, right. What did he do again?’
Felicity felt her jaw clench. Adam had known her since she was a teenager. How could he not remember this?
‘My dad. What he did to my mum. I swore I’d never be like him. I swore .’ Hot tears prickled behind her eyes and she swallowed.
Adam leaned forward, his brown eyes softening, and took her hand. ‘I forgive you,’ he said. ‘It’s time to forgive yourself.’
She nodded dumbly. His hand felt warm against hers and the contact had a strangely numbing effect on her senses.
‘I got you something,’ he said. Without breaking eye contact he reached into his jacket pocket, turned her hand over and carefully placed a small box wrapped in pale blue and cream paper into her palm.
Mechanically, and really just so she had something to do with her fingers, she unwrapped it, revealing a beautiful sky-blue box with ‘Tiffany’ written across the top.
Felicity stared at it for a long moment, then lifted her eyes to Adam’s face in astonishment.
‘It’s from Selfridges,’ he said, with a shrug. As if that was no big deal. As if they popped in all the time. He was so close now she could feel his breath on her face. Selfridges. Shop of Legends. Her very favourite, or, at least, it would be if she could afford to shop there. Her mind raced. She had no idea how to handle this situation.
‘See. You’re forgiven. Now, aren’t you going to open it?’ He smiled, indicating the box.
‘Not yet,’ was all she could manage. ‘Not yet.’
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your point of view, she didn’t have to. For, of course, that was the moment that James finally decided to make an appearance.