Elliot runs into the bedroom and slams the door.
I stare at his family in horror.
Christopher’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “Kathryn Landon,” he whispers in shock.
The bedroom door opens back up in a rush, and Elliot grabs my arm and drags me in and slams the door behind us.
I put my hands over my eyes. “No, no, no, no,” I whisper. “That did not happen. Tell me that didn’t happen.”
Elliot is pacing, his hands are in his hair. “Tristan is a fucking dead man,” he fumes.
I slap him with both hands on the chest like a drum as I lose control and spiral into a panic. “Oh my God, Elliot. They’ll think I’m a ho. They’ll think I’m a ho.”
“You think you’ve got fucking problems,” he whispers angrily as he points to his dick: it looks hard and angry. “Not exactly what I want to show my mother before breakfast, Kathryn.”
“Elliot,” Tristan calls through the door.
“Prepare to die, fucker,” Elliot hisses.
“Should . . . we go?”
“Yes. No. I want Mom and Dad to meet Kate,” he calls.
I put my head in my hands. “They already met me, being a fucking whore bag,” I whisper in despair.
Elliot’s eyes widen. “Just a minute,” he calls loudly. “Get dressed,” he whispers as he marches into the closet.
I run after him like a child. “What will I say to them?”
He stares at me as if completely lost for words and then shrugs. “That you like my dick.”
The situation overwhelms me and I put my hands over my mouth and burst out laughing. “Will you be serious?” I whisper.
“Listen, I don’t know what you should say.” He digs around in my suitcase. “I’ve got my own worries. I just showed my mother my hairy helmet.”
I laugh hard, trying to keep quiet. “What the hell is a hairy helmet?”
“A colossal troublemaker.” He throws a dress at me. “Get. Fucking. Dressed.”
Elliot pulls up his jeans commando-style and throws a T-shirt over his head. He looks down at his crotch. “Now you decide to go down, after you’ve already ruined my fucking life,” he whispers angrily.
I smile as I throw my dress over my shoulders and pull it down, run into the bathroom and smooth out my dress and quickly wash my face.
Elliot goes to the door and holds his hand out for me. “Come.”
I close my eyes, dread filling my every cell.
“It’s fine, don’t worry.”
My eyes search his. “Is it really fine?”
“Not in the least, it’s abysmal.” He opens the door and pulls me out of the bedroom. We find his family all sitting in the living room.
Christopher, Jameson, and Tristan are all wearing goofy grins, as if this is the best thing to ever happen. His mum and dad are pensive and on the other couch.
“Mom and Dad.” Elliot holds his hand out. “This is Kathryn. Kathryn, this is Elizabeth and George, my parents.”
His mother fakes a smile and stands. “Lovely to meet you.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as I shake her hand. “To meet you like this is my worst nightmare.”
George stands. “Could have been worse, dear, you could have been on one of those hard surfaces.”
The boys all burst out laughing, and my cheeks heat with a blazing fire. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life.
“That’s impossible. I’m a virgin, Dad,” Elliot mutters as he kisses his mother’s cheek. “Sorry, Mom.”
She smiles adoringly up at her son. “That’s okay, dear, sorry to interrupt.”
She turns her attention back to me. “So . . . Kathryn.”
“Kate,” Elliot corrects her.
My heart hammers so hard in my chest that I can hear it in my ears.
“Kathryn—you work for us, don’t you?” George asks.
“Yes sir.” I cringe. Kill me now.
“She’s the head of IT in London.” Elliot smiles proudly. “Damn good at her job, too.”
Elizabeth smiles softly as she stares at me. I can feel her gaze as she assesses every inch.
“Who wants coffee?” Tristan stands.
“Me,” I answer way too fast.
“Me, yes please. Yes, me too,” they all answer.
Tristan looks at Jameson and Christopher. “Come help,” he says. The boys both stand and Tristan knocks twice on the table as he walks past it. “Now, that is a hard surface.”
Jameson chuckles as he walks past a cabinet and knocks twice on it too. “Rock hard,” he says. They disappear into the kitchen and we hear another two loud knocks on the wall.
“Found another one,” Christopher calls.
Elliot pinches the bridge of his nose and George smiles. “Don’t mind them, dear, small things amuse small minds.” He walks in after them.
“So, this is the girl you brought home for me to meet?” Elizabeth says.
“This is her, Mom,” Elliot replies.
Nerves simmer.
“Don’t mind this morning, my dear, I’m well equipped. I have brought up four very unruly boys, you must remember.”
I nod, grateful for her kindness.
“What are you doing today, Kate?” she smiles. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”
Elliot frowns, uncomfortable with her suggestion. “That’s not necessary, Mom—”
“Nonsense, Elliot,” she cuts him off. “When you called ahead and told me you had someone you wanted me to meet, I assumed she was from New York.”
My eyes flick to Elliot: you rang ahead?
“But now that I know I only have limited time to get to know her, I’m taking Kate to lunch.” Her eyes flick to me. “That’s if she wants to, of course.”
This is the last thing on earth I want to do. “That would be lovely,” I lie.
Elliot looks like he just swallowed a fly.
She smiles. “I’ll have Henderson pick you up at one.”
I nod. Please earth, swallow me up into a sinkhole, never to be recovered. “Great.”
She stands. “George,” she calls. “We’re leaving.”
“I didn’t have my coffee yet.”
“We’ll get one at breakfast.” It’s blatantly obvious who’s the boss around here. She turns to me. “I’ll see you at one?”
I nod.
“And we have a family dinner tonight at Tristan’s. You can meet all of my beautiful grandchildren.”
I fake a smile and nod. I wanted to move to the next level but this is going way too fast. “Fantastic.” I wish I would swallow a fly, a poisonous one that would put me in hospital for a week.
George appears and shakes my hand. “See you tonight, honey.”
She and George leave, and the door closes behind them.
“You are all fucking dead,” Elliot yells. “Why the hell would you bring them here? What kind of fucking stitch-up is that?”
His brothers burst out laughing in the kitchen.
Tristan comes around the corner with two cups of coffee. “That was the best thing I’ve ever seen.” He passes the cup of coffee to me. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I smile as I take it from him.
I sit down on the edge of the couch and sip it; ugh, it’s so strong it tastes like petrol.
This is the literal day from hell.
Jameson takes a sip. “Fuck, you make shit coffee.” He grimaces.
Christopher stares at me with a sarcastic smirk. “Kathryn Landon, what the hell are you doing here? You hate him.”
“Perhaps it’s the hard surfaces that she likes,” Tristan says with a cheeky wink.
Jameson raises his coffee in the air in a cheers gesture.
I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment again and a dutiful smile crosses my face.
Kill me now.
“Will you just all fuck off,” Elliot snaps. “I’ve got gray hair after this morning.” He stands and looks at his hair in the mirror.
“Your face though when Mom said happy birthday,” Jameson says, and the boys all laugh as if picturing it once more. They break into chatter and Elliot’s eyes find mine across the room and he smiles softly.
I love seeing him with his brothers like this; they aren’t at all as I imagined.
Fun, carefree, and full of banter.
Surprisingly normal.
I glance at my watch: 12:45 p.m. Mrs. Miles will be here soon.
Fuck.
I’m so nervous I could die.
My phone rings and the name Elliot lights up the screen. “Hello Mr. Miles.” I smile.
“Hi. You ready for your lunch date?”
“Nope.” I sigh. “What do I say?”
“Everything except anything.”
“What?”
“My mother wants to get you alone so she can dig for information.”
“Like what?”
“She’s nosy.”
“What will I tell her?”
“Nothing. Tell her nothing.”
My eyes widen. “What if she asks me questions?”
“Oh, she will. Don’t you worry about that.”
“How will I answer them?”
“Just be evasive.”
I close my eyes. “This day is a nightmare, Elliot,” I whisper.
He chuckles.
“Did you really bring me here to meet your mother?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“I told you already, I didn’t want to go a week without seeing you.”
My heart swells.
“What if she doesn’t like me?”
“It doesn’t matter, I like you.”
I smile as I run my finger along the countertop.
“Does that count for something?” he asks.
“It does.”
“After you finish lunch with her, come and see me at work.”
“Really?” I sigh. God, so much pressure in one day. I’ve been running around all morning looking for the perfect gift. “I’ll just see you tonight.”
“Kate, it’s my birthday.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
“Don’t drink too much at lunch,” he reminds me.
I giggle.
“I mean it, she hates drunks.”
“Oh.” He’s serious. “Okay.”
“And don’t tell her anything about us.”
I shrug. What could I possibly tell her—I don’t even know what’s going on. “Okay.”
“And—”
“Elliot,” I cut him off. “You’re making me more nervous than I already am,” I splutter.
“Sorry.” He exhales.
“I’ll see you this afternoon?”
“Alright. Bye babe.”
I hang up and rush to the bathroom to check how I look one last time. I’m wearing a black, long-sleeved dress that Daniel made me buy, and nude high heels with a matching clutch. My hair is styled and I have minimal makeup on.
I’m going for sensible-classy, not sure if I’ve achieved it, but whatever, this is all I’ve got.
The door buzzer sounds and I run out and push the intercom. “Hello.”
“Your car is here, Miss Landon,” a male voice replies.
“I’ll be right down.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror and I let out a shaky deep breath, putting my hand over my stomach to try and calm the butterflies. What was I thinking, agreeing to this?
I make my way down and walk out to find a black limousine parked at the curb, and my nerves hit an all-time high.
Fuck.
The doorman opens the back door. “Miss Landon.” He nods.
“Thank you.”
I climb in to find Elizabeth sitting in the backseat; she smiles warmly. “Hello Kate.”
She’s immaculately dressed in designer labels and looks like a beautiful fashion model.
The look of money oozes out of her and I’m quite sure that Daniel would bow at her feet. Imagine the designers that would swarm around her.
“Hi.” The door shuts behind me; is it too late to run?
“I’ve booked us into my favorite restaurant.” She smiles. “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” I clasp my hands in my lap so tightly that I nearly cut off the circulation.
Fifteen minutes later we pull up outside a swanky-looking restaurant and I follow her in. “Mrs. Miles.” The waiters all smile. “How lovely to see you.”
“Hello.”
“Your table is this way.”
We are shown to our table and the waitress asks, “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth smiles. “Would you like some wine, Kathryn?”
“No, thank you, I don’t drink that often,” I lie. “Just a mineral water for me, please.”
“Oh.” A trace of a smile crosses her face. “I’ll have the same.”
Her eyes hold mine and she links her fingers under her chin. “I can see why Elliot is so swept away with you, you’re lovely.”
I smile bashfully. “Ah . . .”
Our mineral water arrives and she pours us both a glass. “Has Elliot warned you not to elaborate on anything to me?”
Oh hell.
I smile shyly. “Maybe.”
“He’s a very private person.”
“Yes.” I nod. “I know.”
She opens her menu. “I’m afraid that out of all my children, growing up in the spotlight has had the biggest effect on Elliot.”
I frown as I listen.
“He guards his privacy with his life and I’m quite sure that some days he despises his surname.”
“I don’t think—”
“Now, now.” She cuts me off. “There’s no need to make excuses, my dear. I understand where he’s coming from.”
“Where is he coming from?” I whisper.
“Elliot is a dreamer,” she continues. “He lives in a world where he is forced to be a realist, but in his heart, he is a romantic.”
I smile; I already knew this from my interaction with Ed. “Yes, I know.”
“When he called me last week and told me that he was bringing a plus-one to his birthday dinner, I knew that you must be special to him.”
“Why is that?”
“Darling.” She takes my hand over the table. “You’re the first woman he’s ever brought home to us.”
My face falls as I stare at her. “He’s a very confusing man,” I whisper.
She gives me a knowing smile. “Hang in there, my dear.” She sips her drink. “Once Elliot commits to a woman, she would be his entire world.”
I drop my head. I know he told me not to tell her anything, but if there’s one woman who knows him better than anyone, it’s her. “It’s only early days, he doesn’t even want anyone to know that we’re seeing each other.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” she replies. “Elliot hates press, he hates the invasion of his privacy. When they nicknamed him Casanova Miles he was mortified; he believes that once something becomes the property of the gossip pages, that it’s no longer special, or belongs to him.”
I frown.
“He’s watched Jameson go through very public battles with the media and the ramifications it has caused in his private life.”
I listen intently; this isn’t how I was expecting our conversation to go.
“He doesn’t want that for himself or his partner. In his own way, he is protecting you.”
“Who would ever have thought that a media family would hate the press so much?” I say.
“The irony.” She smiles. “Christopher has filled me in on your and Elliot’s history, you haven’t always liked each other or gotten along?”
“No.”
She smiles as she watches me. “Why is that?”
Fuck.
I stare at her, lost for words.
She reminds me what it was like to have a mother figure pry for information: it feels nice. Familiar.
She takes my hand in hers once more. “I hold honesty in the highest regard, Kate.”
Shit, that was code for . . . lie to me bitch, and you’re done. Oh hell, I brace myself to tell her the truth. Here goes nothing.
“I thought he was a self-absorbed, self-righteous womanizer.”
She chuckles in surprise. “Elliot is all of those things.”
I smile too.
“But if you get underneath all that, and not many people get the chance to, he is kind and warm and generous.”
I well up; she’s completely right. “I know.” I sip my drink. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Miles,” I whisper. “But I wish Elliot was a plumber.”
“Why?”
“Because then we would come from the same world and I wouldn’t have to share him. And he could just be whoever he wanted to be.”
She puts her hand under her chin as she stares at me.
Shit . . . I shouldn’t have said that. I crossed the line.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“That’s okay, dear,” she cuts me off. “Can I ask you a question, Kate?”
I nod.
“What don’t you like about Elliot?”
“Um.” I pause. Fuck . . . he told me not to go there with her and here I am having a deep and meaningful. I’ve fallen for her trap. You idiot, Kate.
“Umm . . .” I pause again.
“Be honest with me. What don’t you like about Elliot?”
“His arrogance, his money, his temper . . .” I pause as I try to articulate my words. “He’s closed off and cold, reserved, and can be mean—”
“What do you like about him?” she interrupts.
I think for a moment. “His kind heart.”
Her eyes hold mine and eventually, she smiles softly. “It’s lovely to meet you, Kathryn,” she whispers.
“I’m so sorry about this morning,” I whisper back. “You can’t imagine how horrified I am that we met that way.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She laughs. “I know what my son is like, I’m not delusional. He’s definitely no angel and his nickname was well earned.”
She seems happy and I’m not sure, but I think I answered her questions right.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Emily and Claire tonight.”
I put my hand over my stomach. “It makes me so nervous.”
“Don’t be.” She smiles. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
I arrive at the top floor of the Miles Media building and the elevator doors open into a huge swanky space.
It’s all white and complete luxury, with a floor-to-ceiling glass wall and view over New York.
“Kathryn?” The receptionist smiles as she stands.
“Yes.”
She shakes my hand. “I’m Sammia.” She turns to her colleague. “And this is Lindsey, from HR.”
“Hello.” I smile as I shake their hands; well, this is awkward. Elliot failed to mention that the female employees here are shit-hot.
“Elliot is expecting you, his office is the last on the right.”
“Thank you.” I walk down the long corridor over the white marble and knock on the last door on the right.
“Come in,” his strong voice calls.
I open the door tentatively and he raises his chin as if defiant. “Miss Landon,” he snaps. “Do you have that report I’m waiting on?”
I roll my lips to hide my smile; he’s playing pretend. “Yes sir.”
“Come in,” he barks.
I walk in and close the door behind me.
“Lock the door.” He stands.
I frown and slowly turn the lock.
“I’ve worked out what I want for my birthday, Miss Landon,” he says as he walks around his desk. “I’ve been wanting it for about seven years now. The time has come for you to deliver.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, what’s he talking about?
He knocks hard, twice, on his desk and my eyes widen.
Oh no, a hard surface.
His dark eyes dance with arousal and he pushes everything off his desk.
“Elliot,” I whisper.
Then he is on me. He pushes me up against the back of the door and kisses me hard.
“Elliot.”
He bites my neck as his hands slide up my dress and down the front of my panties.
“They’re just outside,” I whisper.
“I didn’t give you permission to speak, Miss Landon,” he growls in a whisper.
His fingers circle the lips of my sex, he slides in one finger, and my eyes flutter closed.
“Elliot,” I whimper as he slides in another.
His eyes hold mine as he begins to work me hard, thick pumps of his fingers as he pins me against the wall. “Open your fucking legs, Landon,” he hisses.
His harsh words bring a rush of arousal and he smiles as he bites my ear. “I want it wet, swollen.” He adds another finger and I throw my head back against the wall.
Oh hell.
The sound of my wet body sucking him in echoes around his office.
“What if someone walks in?” I whimper.
“Then they’ll have to wait their turn.” He grabs a handful of my hair and drags my face to him. “You’re going to bend over my desk. You’re going to open up that pretty little pussy for me.” He jerks me hard, his grip on my hair is almost painful. “And you’re going to take my cock and then get on your knees and drink me down.”
He grabs my face in his hands. “Do you understand me?” he commands.
I nod, arousal screaming through my body like never before.
He drags me to his desk and pushes me over it; he tears my dress up and I hear the zip of his fly. Gone is the sensitive lover I’ve had of late.
Elliot Miles is here in all his glory.
Fuck . . . I’ve missed him.
With one hand gripping a handful of my hair, he slams in hard.
The burn of his possession stretches me, burns like never before.
My mouth falls open as I try to deal with him, my face mangled into his desk.
Up close and personal.
His hands go to my shoulders as he rides me hard, the sound of our skin-slapping echoing.
They’ll know.
He moans, and from the guttural sound he makes, I know he’s close.
He pulls out and in one movement, pulls me up and pushes me down to my knees, slides his cock down my throat and with his two hands gripping my hair, he comes in a rush.
I nearly choke; he’s a lot of man to take like this.
His dark eyes hold mine as he slowly pumps my mouth, completely emptying himself into me.
His chest rises and falls as he gasps for air, his grip on my hair loosens.
I lick my lips. “Happy birthday, sir.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face as he realizes we’re still in role play, and he zips up his trousers. “Stand up, Miss Landon.”
I stand and he pulls my dress down and straightens it, pulls his fingers through my hair to neaten it.
I lick my lips again, excited that he called me here to get a blow job at work. “Will that be all, sir?” I whisper.
His dark eyes hold mine. “For now.”
He walks around and sits behind his desk, leans back in his chair.
Arrogance personified.
“I’ll . . . get back to work, Mr. Miles.”
He nods as he picks up his pen.
I pick up my bag and walk toward the door.
“Miss Landon.”
I turn back toward him. “Yes sir.”
“Well done.” He tilts his chin to the sky. “Excellent reporting skills.”
I smirk. Bastard.
“I try my best, sir.”
I leave and walk down the corridor and out into the reception area, and with their boss literally on my tongue, I bid his secretaries goodbye.
The car pulls up in front of a huge house and I peer out. Elliot squeezes my hand on my lap. “Ready?’
I fake a smile. “After the day I’ve had today, who knows?”
“Did I tell you, I love my present,” he whispers as he kisses me.
“About a million times already.”
I took a photo of Elliot outside near his lake the other morning. It’s from behind, he’s in a suit, and staring out over his enchanted estate. The ducks are gathered around his feet and the mist is rolling over the hills. It’s a beautiful shot and I had it framed for him.
What do you get the man who has everything? Now I know.
Sentiment.
He loves it because it’s sentimental. It means something to him, just like he means something to me.
Being here in New York with his family has given me a little more insight into the mercurial man. He’s not just difficult with me, he’s difficult with everyone.
And I can’t tell you how good that feels to know.
It’s not me, it was never me, it’s him.
We park the car and walk up to the front door; Elliot knocks as I hold my breath.
Tristan opens the door in a rush. “Hello.” He smiles as he looks at us in turn, bends and kisses me on the cheek. “Come in.”
Elliot takes my hand and we walk into a large living area, a hive of activity.
“This is Emily,” Tristan introduces me, “Jameson’s wife, and this is their son, James.”
“Hello.” The little boy looks to be about three. He has dark hair and blue eyes like his father.
“Hi.” Emily smiles, leans in, and kisses my cheek. “Lovely to meet you.” She’s heavily pregnant. “Our daughter Imogen is around here somewhere.” She smiles. “She’s twenty-three months old.”
“Oh, you have your hands full.”
“As if dealing with Jim isn’t enough.” Tristan smiles. “And this is my wife, Claire.”
“Hi.” Claire smiles; she isn’t at all what I expected. Naturally pretty, with dark hair.
He takes a baby dressed in pink from her. “This is Poppy and we have a two-year-old daughter around here somewhere, her name is Summer.”
A bunch of kids go running and screaming through the house.
“That will be her,” he says. “Noisiest tiny human you ever met.”
I giggle. “Hello.”
“Boys,” he calls. “Come here please.”
I look up to see two teenagers and a small boy walking over.
“These are my sons, Fletcher, Harrison, and Patrick.”
“Hello.” They all shake my hand politely. “How do you do?”
“Come out and join the party.” Tristan smiles as he holds his hand out.
I look into the back living-room area to see everyone chatting and laughing, completely relaxed, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
If heaven was a week, this would be it.
I put my head on Elliot’s chest as we ride up to his apartment in the elevator, his strong arm around me, and I feel completely safe and protected.
We’ve danced and laughed, made love and fucked.
Spent time with his wonderful family, and to say that Elliot Miles has romanced me around New York is the understatement of the year.
In a few days we go home to London, and I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t want to.
I want to stay here, where we have privacy and Elliot has his brothers, and I have their wives, and we don’t have to hide under a cloak of secrecy.
In London it’s just us, but here . . . there’s family. And I know they aren’t mine, but they’re his, and they’ve made me feel so welcome.
We arrive up at the apartment and Elliot leads me by the hand through to the kitchen, opens the freezer, and removes a silver ice bucket.
“What’s this?” I ask.
He pulls out two Cornetto ice creams and hands one over; emotion overwhelms me as I stare at it in his hand.
“I thought we could toast New York.”
I stare at him through tears, and I know that if I didn’t already love him before . . .
I honestly do now.
I watch as he unwraps mine and he passes it over. I take it and wait for him to unwrap his, then he leads me out onto the balcony and we sit down on the day bed.
He holds his Cornetto up. “To New York.”
I smile and tap my ice cream with his. “To New York.”
He kisses me tenderly and then licks his ice cream and I could just burst out crying as I watch him.
So thoughtful.
“Don’t worry,” he says casually as he licks his ice cream. “I’ll lick you next.”
I burst out laughing. “You idiot.”
ELLIOT
I lie in bed and toss and turn. Kate is asleep beside me and it’s late.
My phone beeps with a text and I frown. Who’s that? I pick it up and read the message: it’s from the private investigator that I hired.
We found her.
What?
I sit up in a rush and walk downstairs to my study, close the door, and dial his number. “Hello.”
“We found her.”
“Where is she?”
“Nice.”
I smile broadly. “Does she still have the paintings?”
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“What?”
“She isn’t ninety at all.”
“What?”
“She’s twenty-nine and drop-dead gorgeous.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll send you an image of her right now.”
I open my computer and wait. The email comes through, my heart drops.
A blonde woman, with red lipstick. Beautiful in every way.
Someone I already know that I’m attracted to.
I know this woman, I’ve seen her at auctions before, and I’ve chased her, knowing deep down that I was supposed to meet her. That something was there.
The ballerina.
Panic runs through me.
“I’ve organized for you to meet her next week in Paris,” he says. “I know how long you’ve searched for this woman, I can’t imagine how excited you must be.”
“Yes,” I reply as the world spins on its axis.
No . . . why now?
“I’ll send through the details tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight sir.”
I hang up and walk back into the bedroom in a daze, my heart beating hard and fast.
Is this the sign I’ve been waiting for?
I climb into bed beside Kate and I take her into my arms as sadness fills me.
“El,” she murmurs in her sleep.
I hold her tighter.
“I love you,” she whispers.
I close my eyes in regret.
Fuck.
I let out a deep exhale as I watch the game on the screen. I’m at a bar, sitting at a high bench seat near the back, waiting for my brothers. I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders and fuck, I need to hash it out.
I see them amble through the front doors, deep in conversation, and then make their way over to me. Jameson heads straight to the bar.
“Here he is.” Tristan slaps me hard three times on the back as he falls onto the seat beside me. “What is so damn important that we have to meet you in a bar at”—he glances at his watch—“eleven-fifty in the fucking morning?”
I roll my eyes. “Everything.”
Christopher frowns across the table. “What’s wrong?”
“Destiny is fucking me up the ass, that’s what.”
Tristan raises an eyebrow. “Strap-on, or cock?”
Christopher chuckles as he turns his phone off and puts it on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up,” I snap. “Trust you to make a joke of my life.”
“It is comical,” he says dryly. “And you are a clown.”
Jameson arrives with a tray of beers, places them in front of us and falls into a seat, looks over at me. “What?”
“My life is a fucking disaster,” I scoff.
He rolls his eyes. “So dramatic.”
“What now?” Christopher says.
“Well, I’m happy.”
They nod.
“And you know that I’m obsessed with Harriet Boucher and have had a private investigator searching for her for over six months?”
“Yes,” they all reply.
“And you know how I’ve seen that beautiful blonde woman at her auctions for years and have never been able to find her afterwards? And that I’ve felt a connection to her as if she is someone I should know?”
“The ballerina?” Tristan asks.
“That’s her.” I take a gulp of my beer; this story is nothing short of horrifying.
They all sit back as they listen.
“I got an email from the private investigator last night, he found Harriet.”
“That’s great.” Christopher smiles.
“The ballerina is her.” Their faces fall. “I’m supposed to meet her in France next week.”
Jameson slumps back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be fucked.”
“And Kate told me that she loved me last night.”
They all blink, shocked.
“So, all along I’ve been waiting for a sign from the universe. I believed I would have that destined meeting or whatever that was. I’ve been obsessed with one woman, and searching for another woman’s paintings. And I find out that they are the same person on the night that my new girlfriend . . . there, I said it . . .” I hold my fingers up and air-quote the word “. . . girlfriend . . . tells me that she loves me.”
Their faces fall.
“And, I think I love Kate . . . Actually,” I correct myself. “I know I’m in love with Kate.”
“Fucking hell . . .” Jameson winces.
Tristan’s eyes widen and Christopher puffs air into his cheeks.
I look at the three of them as I wait for their reaction. “Well, are you going to say something?”
Jameson curls his lip. “You’re fucked.”
Tristan and Christopher nod in agreement.
“Well, what’s your thought process?” Tristan asks.
“I haven’t slept. All night I’ve been going over different scenarios.”
“Such as?”
“What if Harriet is the woman I’m supposed to be with? I’ve known from day one that I saw her painting that she was special. I’ve adored the ballerina from afar and to find out they are the same person is . . .” I pause as I try to articulate my words. “Mind-blowing.”
They all listen intently.
“But then there’s Kathryn. We hated each other for so long. I was never attracted to her. One day it was like a lightbulb went off and I could think of nothing else.” I take a depressing sip of my beer. “She is . . .” I pause. “Just so beautiful.”
Jameson frowns. “You’re the happiest I’ve seen you in a very long time.”
“I am. Since Kate and I got together, we’ve spent almost every night together.”
“Every night?” Christopher frowns. “Like virtually every single night?”
“Yep, I can’t stand the thought of her going back to her house for even one night.”
Tristan holds his forehead as he leans his elbow on the table. “You’re completely fucked.”
“Well, what are you going to do?” Jameson asks. “What are the options?”
“I can stay with Kate and always have regrets and wonder, what if.”
They all wince.
“Or I go to Harriet and try with her, and leave Kate.”
“Can you just leave Kate?” Christopher asks.
“I don’t know.” I sigh sadly. “I know that if I leave Kate now I’ve been the biggest fucking asshole in all of history.”
They all listen.
“I haven’t played games. I’ve been completely myself and haven’t held back at all.”
They all wince again.
“This is why I’m never falling in love,” Christopher snaps. “No way in hell am I giving my balls on a platter to a woman.”
Tristan rolls his eyes. “That statement right there is why you aren’t in a relationship. When you love someone, you give them your heart, not your fucking balls, you dipshit.”
Christopher sips his beer. “My wife will be getting my balls, straight down her throat.”
We all chuckle as we take a drink and then we fall silent.
“So . . . what now?” Jay asks.
“I feel like Harriet is destined. I know you all don’t believe in fate. But I do, I always have.”
“Look, I never believed in fate. I always thought that I would meet some beautiful young woman and it would be easy,” Tristan says.
I listen intently.
“And then I met Claire, and everything I thought I wanted went out the window. Her kids hated me and I had to fight tooth and nail to convince her to love me. Never in a million years did I ever imagine my life as it is now. But I honestly believe I am where I’m meant to be. Claire and those kids were meant for me, and the bigger picture of my destiny was already mapped out. They were my family long before I even met them; perhaps before they were even born it was decided that they would end up being mine.”
I exhale, more confused, and I turn to Jay. “What about you?”
“Well.” He shrugs. “I thought Claudia was the love of my life.” He sips his beer. “Turns out she was just keeping me company until Emily came along. Trust me, she isn’t who or what I thought I would end up with either.”
“Would you change it?”
“Not for anything in the world.”
I turn my attention to Christopher.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I’m going undercover to meet my wife. I don’t want no socialite.”
“What?” We all frown.
“One of these days I’m taking a gap year,” Christopher says.
“What does that even mean?” Jameson says.
“I’m going to hand over my credit cards, resign, and grow a beard,” he continues. “Go backpacking for twelve months. A do-over of sorts. I’m going to come back with someone who loves me for me.”
We all burst out laughing.
“You,” I scoff. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. You in a backpacker resort?”
We laugh harder, imagining him there with the ferals and bedbugs. Christopher is accustomed to luxury; he’d die without it.
Jameson’s attention comes back to me. “What are you going to do?”
“I know I can’t live my life with regrets or wondering what if.” I sigh.
“So, you’re going to go to Paris?” Christopher frowns. “Just like that?”
I stay silent, unsure.
“You’re stupid if you fuck this up with Kate,” he snaps. “That she likes you is unbelievable, the fact that she loves you is a fucking miracle.”
My eyes rise to meet his.
“You have something special with her; grab onto it with both hands and don’t let go.”
“Agreed,” Tristan says.
“I think you need to go to Paris.” Jameson sighs. “You need to know, once and for all. Are you really going to live your life wondering what if? Is that fair to Kate to start a relationship with this already hanging over your head?”
My chest tightens as I look at my brothers and I know that there is no right or wrong answer to this.
I’m fucked if I do, and fucked if I don’t.
