‘Fuck!’ I hear him curse, and then his stamping shoes get closer again. I remain where I am, silent and still, until he’s bursting through the door of the lounge. That finger is pointed at me again, and he’s shaking more than before. ‘You’ll stay here. Understand?’
I don’t know what happens. Something triggers under his order and I find myself up in his face before I can weigh up the pros and cons of retaliation. I knock his hand out of the way. ‘Don’t tell me what to do!’
‘Don’t push me, Olivia.’
It doesn’t matter that I don’t plan on going anywhere and leaving Nan alone. This is principle. ‘Fuck off!’
He clenches his teeth. ‘Stop being so fucking difficult! You’ll stay here!’
I see red, then blurt something that surprises me as much as it clearly surprises Miller. ‘Did you know?’
Miller’s neck retracts on his shoulders, a scowl settling. ‘What?’
‘Did you know she was back?’ I shout, thinking how well he handled the situation. There was no shock. He fell straight into comfort mode, like he was prepared for it. ‘When I thought I was losing my mind and you talked me down, did you know?’
‘No.’ He’s adamant, but I don’t believe him. He’ll do anything to lessen my hurt. No one’s speaking. Ted’s shirked me, William has avoided me at all costs until now – now that I know for sure – and Miller virtually threw the phone off his desk to cut the call when Gracie’s name was mentioned. And then I’m thinking about the call from Sylvie, the one telling me about the woman looking for me. Her description. It matches Sophia perfectly, but it also matches my mother. Clarity is a wonderful thing.
Blood burns in my veins. ‘You told William to keep it from me, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I fucking did!’ he yells, startling me. ‘And I’m not fucking sorry!’ Firm palms cup my face, almost aggressively, and squeeze tightly, his nose meeting mine, his eyes penetrating me deeply. ‘I. Didn’t. Know. What. To. Do.’
I can’t speak; his grip won’t allow my mouth to open. So I nod, feeling emotion take hold – all of the stress, worry, and fear ripping through my vulnerable being. He was trying to shield me from more hurt.
‘Don’t leave.’ He scans my face, his gaze drifting everywhere, and though it’s an order, I know he wants my acknowledgement. I nod again. ‘Good,’ he says simply, then smashes his lips onto mine and gives me a forceful kiss.
When he releases me, I step back and blink myself back to life, just catching his back disappearing out of the room.
The door closes loudly.
Then I cry like a baby, trying to suppress the sound so I don’t wake Nan. It’s silly; if she was to wake up, then she would have by now after that brief shouting match and the slamming of a few doors. My pathetic choked sobs won’t rouse her.
‘Everything OK, Miss Taylor?’
I look up, seeing Ted in the doorway of the lounge. ‘Fine.’ I rub at my eyes. ‘Tired, that’s all.’
‘Understandable,’ he says softly, making me smile a little.
‘You knew she was back, too, didn’t you?’
He nods, dropping his eyes. ‘Not my news to share, sweetheart.’
‘So you did know her.’
‘Everyone knew Gracie Taylor.’ He smiles, keeping his eyes on the floor, like he’s scared I might press for more should he give me eye contact. I’m not going to. I don’t want to know.
‘You’d better take up position.’ I indicate over my shoulder when he looks up at me, his rugged face a little surprised. ‘I’m sorry for going AWOL again.’
He chuckles. ‘You’re safe. That’s the main thing.’ He strides across the room and finds his position at the window, and I observe for a while, remembering his skilful driving.
It pushes me to press him. ‘Have you always worked for William?’
‘Twenty-five years.’
‘What did you do before?’
‘Military.’
‘You were a soldier?’
He doesn’t answer, just nods, telling me he’s done talking with me, so I leave Ted and drag my weary bones up the stairs to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower will soothe my aching mind and heart while it’s soothing my aching muscles. The different elements of pressure on each of us are becoming too much, both of us trying to shoulder everything. We’re going to give way under the strain soon.
After flipping the shower on, I stand before the sink, staring at my washed out face, seeing dark circles under my hollow eyes. Only a century’s sleep and waking to find every burden gone will remedy it. I sigh and open the mirrored cupboard, cursing when a load of cosmetics tumble from the shelves and clatter into the sink. ‘Shit,’ I grumble, scooping up pots and tubes one by one and placing them back. I’m nearly done, only the Tampax left to . . .
Tampax.
I stare at the box, my tongue thickening in my mouth. Tampax. I’m late. I’m never late. Not ever. I don’t like the feel of nervousness beating in my chest or the pulsing of blood in my ears. I try to calculate when my last period was. Three weeks ago? Four weeks ago? I hadn’t gotten it in New York. Shit.
I dash for my bedroom, finding the empty box of the morning-after pill, and pull the pamphlet out, fiddling with clumsy fingers to unfold the paper until it’s laid flat on my bed. Chinese. German. Spanish. Italian. ‘Where’s the fucking English?’ I yell, turning it over and slapping it on the bed. I spend the next twenty minutes reading piles and piles of small print. Nothing sinks in, though. Nothing except the success rate. There’s no guarantee. Some women become pregnant – a small amount, but some, nevertheless. All of the blood drains from my head. I come over all light-headed and the room begins to whirl. Fast. I collapse to my back and stare up at the ceiling, feeling hot, cold, sweaty, choked. ‘Oh fuck . . .’
I don’t know what to do. I’m blank. Totally stumped. My phone! I spring to life and run downstairs to the kitchen. My shaky hands won’t co-operate, my stupid fingers not hitting the buttons I’m telling them to. ‘Damn it!’ I stamp my foot, then stand motionless, pulling in some reasonable amount of air into my suppressed lungs. I let it all stream out calmly and start again, successfully pulling up my calendar. I go over the days time and time again, counting more than I’d hoped, thinking maybe amid the madness of my life just lately, I may have made a colossal error. I haven’t. Each time I count, I come to the same calculation. I’m a week late. ‘Fuck.’
I flop against the worktop, spinning my iPhone in my grasp. I need a chemist. I need to know for sure. This meltdown might be completely unnecessary. Glancing across the kitchen, I note it’s past eight. But a twenty-four-hour pharmacy will be open. My legs are in action before my brain, and I’m off up the hallway, but when my brain kicks in, I’m soon halted in my task of pulling my denim jacket down from the coat stand.
‘Nan.’ My body deflates. I can’t leave, no matter what the emergency. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened and I wasn’t here. Plus, Ted is keeping watch. There’s only so many tongue-lashings he’ll put up with as a result of my Houdini-like behaviour before he realises I’m not worth the bother and quits.
Releasing my coat, I collapse onto the bottom step of the stairs and drop my head in my hands. Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more hopeless, I have something else to add to my never-ending list of shitty things to deal with. I don’t want to deal with any of them. I want to curl into a ball and have Miller surround me in his thing, protect me from this godforsaken world. His beautiful, comforting face pops into my mind’s eye, sending me somewhere near to that safe place. Then it drifts into the anger that was all too evident before he stormed out.
He’s not speaking to me, and if he is, then I’m sure I won’t want to hear what he has to say. I groan and rub my palms into my face, trying to scrub away . . . everything. I’m an idiot. A first-class, A-rated, top-notch fool. A deluded fool who should face up to everything going on around her and find that renowned Taylor-girl sass to deal with it. Where has that e
asy, peaceful life gone? Miller’s right. I don’t have the ability to cope.
Chapter 17
My dreams are dreams. I know this because everything is perfect – me, Miller, Nan . . . life. Content to remain immersed in my illusory world, I snuggle down farther, moaning my comfort and hugging my pillow. Everything is bright. It’s all so very light and colourful, and though I’m aware that I’m being held in a false sense of security, I don’t wake myself. I’m hovering on the edge of sleep and consciousness, pushing myself to fall further into my dreams – anything to delay facing my reality. I’m smiling. Everything is perfect.
Gracie Taylor.
She joins me in my dreams, leaving her mark, making it impossible to shake out once I wake.
Everything is suddenly dark.
Everything is dull.
‘No!’ I shout, angry that she’s encroached on the only tranquillity to be found in my troubled world. ‘Get out!’
‘Olivia!’
I shoot up, gasping, and whip my head around, searching for him. Miller’s sitting next to me in his boxer shorts, his hair wild, his eyes worried. My shoulders sag, a mixture of relief and annoyance – the relief that he’s here, the annoyance that I’m awake and alert. I’m back in the real world. I sigh, reaching up to brush my hair from my face.
‘Bad dream?’ He moves in and crowds me, gathering my body into his arms and cradling me in his lap.
‘I can’t tell the difference,’ I whisper into his chest, making his movements falter slightly. I’m totally honest with him. I can’t define between my nightmares and reality and he needs to know, although it’s a given that he’s fully aware of my current turmoil, because he’s sharing it with me. Or most of it. I’m very quickly even more awake and alert as I recap on last night after he left. I could be pregnant. But something else more important blocks my worry. ‘Nan.’ I go to move from his hold, panicked.
‘She’s fine,’ he soothes, tightening his hold of me. ‘I’ve helped her downstairs to the couch and given her breakfast and her medication.’
‘You have? In your underwear?’ Images of Miller waiting on Nan in his boxers are suddenly all I can see. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that. I bet she milked him dry of patience while staring at his buns.
‘Yes.’ He drops a light kiss on the back of my head and inhales deeply, taking in a soothing hit of my hair’s scent. ‘You need rest, too, sweet girl. I came back and found you asleep on the stairs.’
I begin prying myself from his arms but soon give up when his arms lock tighter. ‘Miller, I need to see Nan.’
‘I told you. She’s fine.’ He wrestles with me until he has me where he wants, straddling his kneeling lap. I take immense comfort in him fussing with my hair, and even more when I spot his wayward curl misbehaving, calling for me to give it some attention. I sigh and push it away from his forehead, cocking my head in wonder as I refresh my memory of all of Miller Hart’s beautiful traits. I go over them all – the ones I can see and the ones I can’t. ‘I need you more right now,’ he whispers, making my tracing fingers falter on his naked chest. ‘Thing,’ he demands quietly. ‘Please.’
I seize him in my arms, cocooning him in all of me, my face seeking out the comfort of his neck as he locks his palm on my nape, holding me in place. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble pathetically. ‘I’m sorry for being so hateful.’
‘I’ve already forgiven you.’
I let the few building tears trickle silently from my eyes and soak into his neck, remorse crippling me. He’s been nothing but loving, protective, and supportive, to both me and Nan. I’m inexcusable. ‘I love you.’
He pulls me from his chest and takes his time wiping under my eyes. ‘And I love you.’ There’s no code or alternative words or actions. It’s delivered simply. ‘I can’t see you sad, Olivia. Where’s the sass I love so much?’
I smile, thinking he really probably doesn’t mean that. ‘I’ve run out,’ I admit. Too much energy is required to be sassy or spunky or whatever he wants to call it. I feel zapped of life, the only scraps of it I have left reserved to care for Nan and ensure Miller knows how much I love him. Everyone else can go to hell.
‘No, you haven’t. You’ve temporarily lost it, that’s all. We need to relocate it.’ He gives me one of those lovely smiles, lighting my darkness slightly. ‘I need you strong by my side, Olivia.’
My sorrow-soaked mind gives way to guilt. He’s being strong for me. He’s by my side through my own traumatic issues. I need to do the same for him. We’ve still yet to deal with Miller’s problems – my problem, too, because there is only us. But Gracie Taylor has added a whole new dimension to our screwed-up world. And now my late period.
‘I’m here for you,’ I affirm. ‘Always.’
‘I sometimes wonder.’
My guilt multiplies by a million. Pull it together. That’s what I have to do. These problems aren’t going away, and no amount of ignoring them will make them disappear either. ‘I’m here.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me.’
‘I’ll always be grateful for you, Olivia Taylor. Eternally. You know that.’ He takes my hand and kisses my diamond.
‘I know.’
‘Jolly good.’ I’m kissed chastely on my nose, my lips, one cheek, then the other, before he’s pecking his way down my neck. ‘Time for a shower.’
‘Would you do me the honour of joining me?’ I grip his hair in my hands, smiling when he pauses and slowly pulls from my throat.
‘Worship you in that tiny shower?’
I nod, delighted at the playful twinkle springing into his sharp blue eyes.
His lips pout. It’s the most beautiful sight. ‘How long would it take your grandmother to get from the lounge to the kitchen, find her most lethal carving knife, and make it upstairs?’
I grin. ‘Under normal circumstances, a minute flat. Now, I guess a good ten minutes, if at all.’
‘Then we’re good to go.’
I laugh as he scoops me into his arms and starts striding quickly for the door. I so need this. ‘You don’t want to disrespect Nan,’ I remind him.
‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’
I smile, delighted. ‘We have to be quiet.’
‘Noted.’
‘You can’t make me scream your name.’
‘Noted.’
‘We have to listen for Nan.’
‘Noted.’ He virtually breaks down the bathroom door and kicks it closed behind him, defying every noted he’s just noted. I’m placed on my feet, the shower is flipped on, and with a lack of clothes on me and Miller’s yummy tight hips graced only in his yummy tight boxers, it’s a mere second before both of us are naked. ‘In.’ He cocks his head in signal, an element of urgency to his approach. I’m not in the least bit bothered. My desperation is growing with each painful second that he refrains from touching me. I step into the bath, under the hot spray, and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
He’s just staring at me, his eyes journeying slowly up and down my dripping nakedness. But I don’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, I use the time to drink in every perfect piece of him, musing silently, thinking that perhaps he becomes more perfect with each day that passes. His obsessive habits are showing signs of abating, albeit sporadically, or maybe I’ve just become accustomed to things that were so glaringly obvious before. Or maybe we’re meeting somewhere in the middle and neither of us are noticing. Probably because we are so consumed in each other, and when we’re not, we’re tackling obstacles. But I do know one thing for sure. The only thing that’s indisputable.
I’m crazy in love with Miller Hart.
My eyes work their way from his perfect toes, up his perfectly shaped legs, until I’m locked on his perfectly hard cock. I could go farther, lose myself in the rest of him – his sharp abs, his firm pecs, those strong shoulders . . . his flawless face, lips, eyes, and finally the perfect waves of his perfect hair. I could. But I d
on’t. I’m too riveted by the centre of his perfection.
‘Earth to Olivia.’ His rough voice contradicts the soft tone. I finally allow my eyes to indulge in the rest of him, in no rush to make it to the stunning blues that captured me so completely the first time I encountered him. ‘There she is.’
I smile and reach for him. ‘Come to me.’ My order is delivered on a breathy gasp, laced with desperation. My hand is taken gently and our fingers shift and play for a few moments, each of us watching, before Miller entwines them, locking them together. He steps into the tub and crowds me, leaving me no option but to back up until my skin’s pressed against the coldness of the tiles. He’s towering over me, his eyes sinking into the deepest part of me.
He lifts our joined hands and pushes them into the wall above my head, then slides his spare palm to the back of my thigh, tugging firmly. I oblige, lifting until my leg is locked around his waist, pulling us together. Miller’s lips part, prompting mine to follow suit, and he dips, getting us nose to nose. ‘Tell me what you want, sweet girl.’ His hot breath spreads across my face, turning the heated desire running riot through my veins into flaming need.
‘You.’ I push my demand with a gasp and close my eyes when his mouth descends to mine.
He takes what’s his.
Chapter 18
Nan looks well. But the sight of her sitting all prim and quiet at the kitchen table, her palms around a cup of tea, has taken me a little aback. I’d expected to find her pottering around the kitchen, despite being told to take it easy. Nan’s never been good at doing what she’s told.