Chapter 11
The arrivals bring an icy blast swirling into the entrance hall.
Becca is in her element, reaching new heights of exuberance as she hugs and kisses the three men and one woman piling into the foyer.
I hang back, feeling shy and pasting on a smile.
Everyone is talking at once, and the newcomers are shrugging off coats and shoes and shaking snow from their hair.
Alex winks at me. He looks handsome, if a little dissolute with his hair a mess and his cheeks bright from the cold.
Leo is as smooth as ever, barely dishevelled from the storm.
A thin, elegant woman with raven hair stands beside him, her arm tucked through his.
Kimmy.
I have no time to react to the unexpected sight of her before Leo pulls me into an expansive embrace, almost smothering me, pulling me off my feet. ‘Eilish Culpeper, is it really you?’ He sets me back on my feet. ‘God, it’s good to see you. You look great. How are you?’
My smile is genuine now. ‘I’m good, Leo.
Thanks.’ He’s exactly as I remember: urbane and charming.
‘Congratulations by the way.’ I turn to greet his fiancée.
I never really knew Kimmy. Obviously I hated her on principle because she wronged Genevieve; she was just a pantomime villain to me, but now I have to get to know the human behind the anti-hero. ‘Kimmy, how are you?’
When she greets me – double air kisses – her lips hover a centimetre from each cheek. Her make-up is stunning – wings of black eyeliner and red lipstick with a glassy finish like a pond with no ripples. Even the snowflakes in her hair seem artfully placed rather than untidy.
Great, I’m stuck here with two beauty queens.
Tall, voluptuous Becca on one side and willowy Kimmy on the other.
Both dripping in diamonds and designer labels.
And then there’s little me stuck in the middle – plain, with my snub nose and unruly waves of hair that is neither brown nor blonde.
With my lip balm from Boots and my well-worn jeans.
‘Eilish, it’s actually great to see you,’ Kimmy says, not quite hiding the fact that this is a surprise to her.
I laugh. ‘It’s good to see you too.’ And it’s true. Even Kimmy, who I barely knew, feels like a long-lost friend suddenly. It must be the wine I’ve drunk and the romance of the spectacular setting.
I catch Alex’s eye again. He’s smirking, glancing between me and the last of the newcomers.
Jameson.
There he is, toeing off his boots, glancing up, eyes just about to land on mine … Any minute now … The moment I’ve been waiting for – and I dread and desire it in equal measure.
I stall for time, prolonging my greeting with Kimmy, adding, ‘I didn’t know you were coming. What a lovely surprise.’
‘I didn’t know she was either,’ Becca says drily, strolling over to slap Leo lightly on the wrist. ‘Naughty boy, Leo. How am I supposed to cater for people I don’t know are coming?’
‘Partners welcome, you said …’
‘Yes, but you didn’t confirm.’
‘Typical Leo.’ Kimmy rolls her eyes affectionately. ‘Sorry, Bex, it was a kind of last-minute decision. If I’d known Leo hadn’t let you know I’d have RSVP’d myself … Still, I don’t eat much. I can drink my body weight in Champagne, though.’ She gives a cute little shrug and we all laugh.
The moment is on me; I can’t put it off any longer. Already, our hesitation has charged the air like electricity. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. All attention is on us, eyes settling speculatively as everyone wonders how this will play out.
‘Hello, Eilish,’ Jameson says.
Finally, I allow our eyes to meet and the intensity in his is almost too much for me to bear.
It physically hurts to look at him. And yet …
I simply can’t look away. His eyes hold every memory of us; it’s as though a montage of our moments is playing out in our joined gaze.
‘Jamie,’ I whisper and curse inwardly at my slip-up.
That name was always just between us. It speaks of an intimacy we no longer share.
‘Eilish,’ he says again. The others have melted from my awareness and there is only him.
He smiles and he’s everything at once: goofy, self-deprecating, warm, and unbelievably sexy.
A new edge of manliness about him, that steals my breath, reminds me he’s no longer a boy, and I’m no lovesick little girl.
There’s none of the easy joy of my reunions with Leo, Becca, even Alex; just this flurry of butterflies, a tug of regret, the ache of remembering. Then he hugs me – everyone is watching and the moment demands an embrace. ‘You came,’ he says, and looks almost sorrowful.
Why does everyone seem so surprised that I’m here?
I settle into the hug, really feel it. Each point of contact burns through my clothing – his chest beneath my cheek, his hand on my back, the wings of his shoulders beneath my fingertips.
He still has his swimmer’s physique but he’s added bulk since I last saw him.
His hair is shorter, cropped close to his head.
Somehow he smells the same.
Time seems to fold and buckle, and ten years ago becomes yesterday. The moments pass, and we’re still holding on.
‘Well,’ Alex declares, rubbing his hands together in my peripheral vision.
He’s smirking again. ‘This is going well.’ He gives Jameson a dunt with his elbow.
‘Put her down, Lawton.’ Jameson breaks away from me with a sheepish grin, and he and Alex start wrestling like schoolboys.
I try to catch my breath and smooth my hair, certain my longing is written all over me.
‘Did someone mention Champagne?’ says Leo, disdainfully eyeing the boys’ horseplay as if he’s far too grown up for such nonsense, though I know he’d be right in there given half a chance. He always hovered on the fringes of Alex and Jameson’s friendship.
‘Absolutely,’ Becca agrees. She looks Leo up and down. ‘Only you would wear a three-piece suit to hike through a blizzard.’
‘I was in court and didn’t have time to change.’ Leo looks ruefully at his feet. ‘You owe me a grand, by the way – these shoes are ruined.’
Becca scoffs. ‘I owe you nothing. It’s your own fault for not dressing appropriately for the weather.’
‘And for spending a thousand pounds on shoes, you posh wanker.’ Alex looks disparagingly at Leo’s soggy footwear. He is only half-joking, I think – still has that old chip on his shoulder.
Leo laughs, unoffended. ‘Hardly less than Jameson spends on hiking boots, I’d wager.’
‘Not on one pair,’ Jameson counters. ‘Besides, they’re practically safety equipment. You can’t scrimp on that.’
‘Enough of the bickering, boys, we’re wasting drinking time,’ drawls Becca. ‘But none of you are going anywhere until you change into dry clothes. Leo, you’re positively squelching, and Kimmy – bless you sweetie, you’re shivering!’
‘You’re keeping me from my Champagne, woman,’ growls Leo. ‘I suppose you’ve got staff to bring the luggage up?’
‘Fuck’s sake, Leo,’ Alex growls, picking up his bag. ‘It’s not Downton-fucking-Abbey.’
Jameson reaches for his bag. The sleeves of his sweater are rolled back over strong forearms and the way his muscles wrap to the bone makes my stomach lurch with guilty pleasure. He’s become even more attractive, if that were possible.
‘No staff this week,’ says Becca airily, not rising to the bait. She picks up one of Kimmy’s many tiny suitcases. ‘I’ll show you all where you’re sleeping.’
*
Twenty minutes later we’re gathered in the drawing room.
Everyone has dried off and changed into variations on the casual theme: Leo’s crisp pink shirt contrasts sharply with Alex’s threadbare sky-blue hoodie emblazoned with the crest of our alma mater.
Kimmy’s charcoal trousers are beautifully tailored and she’s paired them with a cream silk blouse that would crease if I even touched it, let alone tried to wear it.
Jameson has changed his jeans, but kept on the fitted grey sweater that hugs his form.
God, he looks good.
Stop it, Eilish. That’s not what you’re here for.
Really, it’s pathetic to be pining over an ex, and that’s all he is. Our time has passed, let slip through our fingers.
My fingers.
I gave up any claim I had on Jameson Lawton when I walked out of that police station and didn’t look back.
The drawing room is stunning, with plum-coloured drapes, a chandelier and well-stuffed pristine sofas.
It lacks the cosy comfort of the sitting room, but it is lovely nonetheless, and probably more suited to the occasion.
Becca capably twists the cork from a bottle of Champagne, ignoring Alex when he teasingly asks her if she ‘needs a man’.
‘That’s misogynistic,’ Kimmy scolds, fixing him with a glare.
Alex stares at her, brows knotted. ‘I know. It was a joke, Kimmy. Remind me to give you a crash course in humour some time.’
‘Alex,’ Leo warns. He and Alex eyeball each other for a moment. Kimmy’s eyes flick between them like she’s wondering how far her fiancé will go to defend her honour.
‘That’s quite enough of that.’ Becca’s tone is light as she twists the cork free with a soft pop, and we all cheer as pale-gold liquid spills forth. Becca, grinning, tips the bottle to her lips to catch the fizz.
The tension between Leo and Alex dissipates as though floating away on the tide of bubbles.
‘That’s gross,’ Leo remarks. ‘Because … germs.’
Becca winks at him and begins to pour. We gather round as she fills our glasses. I find myself next to Jameson – whether by accident or design I’m not prepared to admit. He’s quiet, but that’s nothing new. The Jameson I knew was a deep thinker, always the most reserved of the group.
‘To us!’ Becca cries, swinging her glass into the air. We clash crystal and echo her toast. My first swig of Champagne is crisp and light on my tongue and seems to spark a fresh wave of hopefulness and expectation in me. I am exhilarated, my apprehension melting away.
‘To old friends,’ Leo says with overblown sincerity, the words finely shaped in that cut-glass accent of his.