Читать книгу Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 26

Chapter Seventeen

‘How dare you?’ My voice was quiet but it was obvious that Michael sensed the anger within it. He opened his mouth but I cut him off before he could speak. ‘You accuse me of talking about things of which I know nothing when you’ve just done exactly the same thing. You have no idea what I think about marriage or anything else, come to think of it! But just so you know, I actually do know a little about these things. I might not have been married myself but that doesn’t mean I’m entirely ignorant about it all. And you couldn’t be more wrong if you think I’m naive enough to think that marriage is some Disney-like state of affairs. I know it’s not! Why the hell do you think I’ve steered clear of long-term relationships for so long?’

From not being able to find any words, it now seemed like I was unable to stop them.

‘I’m sorry that your marriage broke down, I truly am. I know that she hurt you terribly and I’m sorry for that too. But don’t act like it gives you the monopoly on the knowledge of painful situations Michael, because it doesn’t. Not by a long shot!’

‘Kate – ’

‘Do you want to know what my most vivid image of marriage actually is? It’s of coming home from school to find my mother on the sofa, in her dressing gown, with an empty bottle of vodka on the floor beside her. It’s of sitting beside her on the sofa at two o’clock in the morning as she waited for my father to come home, which he might or might not do. It’s of cleaning the house and cooking the meals because she was rarely in a fit state to do it. It’s of trying to remove the stain of a lipstick that isn’t my mother’s from my father’s shirt and gagging at the smell of perfume from it that also isn’t my mother’s. It’s of finding my mum at the bottom of the stairs and doctors telling me she has internal injuries. So, Michael, no, I don’t have some sunshine and roses image of marriage and I know exactly how much hurt one person can cause another. So don’t you dare accuse me of not caring or not understanding something just because I’ve never had a wedding band on my finger!’

Neither of us said anything for a moment. Our eyes were locked, mine blazing and his with the sort of shocked look to them that someone gets after they’ve just had the verbal equivalent of both barrels unloaded point-blank. The silence was heavy and suffocating. My chest heaved and I knew I had to get out of there.

‘I think it’s best if I left. You should do what you want with the album and the rest of the stuff. You know your own mind.’

I turned to go and Michael caught my hand.

‘Kate.’

I shook my head and pulled away, half running down the stairs, thrusting my feet into my shoes when I got to the bottom. Grabbing my coat and scarf, I pulled open the door and stepped out into the lightly falling snow, shoving my arms into the sleeves as I ran along the road, needing to get away as fast as I could.

I’d never meant to unleash the torrent of words onto Michael. I knew his enquiries about my dinner with Calum had been made in the context of friendly conversation. And I certainly had never meant to tell him about my childhood with an alcoholic mother and a philandering father. I put my hand to my head, half in embarrassment at what I’d just revealed and half to try and still my now pounding head.

Hurrying along to the Tube station, I replayed my outburst, furious with myself for once again losing the professionalism of which I was so proud in front of Michael O’Farrell. Six years and I’d never once lost it until I met him, on the first, and now what I imagined would probably be my last, appointments with him: Perfect bookends of embarrassment. He was well on the way to being done anyway and Bernice could deal with the last bits.

We’d spoken casually about me helping with some ideas on how to get the house properly finished from an interior design perspective a few sessions back, but I think it was safe to say that was now a nonstarter. Apart from anything else, I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to face him again. And certainly not any time soon. I pulled off my scarf, suddenly hot even though I hadn’t yet descended into the warmth of the Tube tunnels. As I crammed myself in-between the hordes of workers, tourists and Christmas shoppers all vying for a spot on the escalator, I heard my phone bleep with a message. I pulled it out and opened the text from Bernice.

Last-minute booking tomorrow. Tried to reschedule but client started crying so gave in! Full day now so won’t see you until Monday. Just wanted to check all OK and to update you. Hope the session with the Gorgeous Grinch went OK today. Have a fab weekend and see you soon xx

Even though I’d explained that Michael was generally less Grinch like now than at our first encounter, the nickname had stuck.

No problem. And you xx

I typed quickly and pressed send. Except actually, big problem. Because that meant I couldn’t get Bernice to take over Michael’s session tomorrow.

I got off the escalator and joined the throng of people turning right towards the platform I needed. It felt even warmer than usual down here this evening, probably in contrast to the cold weather playing out above our heads. I slipped off my coat and hung it over my shoulder bag. The train pulled in and we piled inside. All the seats were taken but I managed to wedge myself against the wall next to the doors and wrapped my hands around the yellow pole beside me, partly to steady myself against the couple of sharp curves I knew lay ahead on this line and partly because I had the odd feeling that if I didn’t hold on to something I was going to end up on the floor.

***

‘You should go home.’ Michael’s look brooked no argument when he opened the door to me the following day.

Great. I’d totally blown it.

I’d had a terrible night going over the argument with Michael in my head, and all the memories that had dragged up, not to the mention still trying to get my head around the whole Calum thing. I’d gone to bed, not being able to decide if I was hot or cold, and feeling like someone was using my cranium for cymbal practice and had woken up to find that the whole percussion section had now joined them. And just to add to the fun, talks to avoid a Tube strike had broken down meaning I’d had to hike along Hyde Park Lane, battling against forty-five degree rain and a headwind. And all for nothing as my client wasn’t even going to let me in the door.

‘Michael, please just let me explain. I totally understand that you probably don’t want me anywhere near your house after my meltdown yesterday, and I was actually going to ask Bernice to cover these last sessions for me, knowing that you wouldn’t want to continue with me – ’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said, scooping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me inside the house. ‘I meant you look terrible and should be at home in bed.’

I looked at him properly for the first time since he’d opened the door and saw that his face was creased with concern, deep furrows on his forehead, and his mouth set in a grim line.

‘You’re soaked,’ he said, helping me out of my coat. ‘I know there’s a Tube strike but please tell me you got a taxi.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘At this time in the morning, at Christmas, and when there’s a strike on? It was quicker to walk. And I’m fine. It’s just a little cold.’

He shook his head. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

I looked up at him hesitantly. ‘And what is the answer to that question?’

Michael tilted his head.

‘I mean, am I fired?’

‘Are you fired? For what? For finally telling me something about yourself? Of course you’re not fired. Come on, let’s get something hot inside you.’

I waved my hand and felt myself turn a little green.

‘No, really I’m fine, thank you. I’m happy just to get this last – ’

Michael’s hand caught mine and pulled me back gently. His other hand went to my chin, tilting it up until my eyes met his.

‘Kate. You’re really not well. I’m not happy about you working like this. I already got loads done the other night after you left.’

‘You did?’

He nodded. ‘I needed something to focus on.’

I lowered my eyes, but my chin was still caught in his hand, the slight roughness of his fingers feeling disturbingly good against my skin.

‘I really should have got Bernice on this job, I think. I’ve never once lost my cool with a client, and then you come along and ruin my perfect score.’

His mouth curved into a half-smile. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘Just so long as you don’t put a bad review up online about me.’

‘Definitely not going to happen.’

I smiled, still trying to ignore the clanging in my head. ‘Thank you. And I really am sorry. I’m normally so much more professional than this.’

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. Really. In my family, we say what we think. There are some arguments, sure, but then the air is clear. Everyone knows where they stand. And that’s right behind one another. It’s how things work. Doesn’t do anyone any good to keep stuff bottled up inside. I just wish you’d said something earlier.’

His hands had moved to my shoulders now and I had the distinct feeling they were helping me stay upright, even if Michael didn’t know it.

‘I’m hardly going to go around telling clients something like that.’

‘No. I just meant…’

I lifted my eyes to find him looking at me. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. ‘No, of course not. Come on, let’s get you a hot drink at least. Do you have a jumper or something? You’re shivering.’

‘No, I’m all right,’ I replied, feeling anything but and less so with every minute. But I was pretty sure I could work through it and distract myself by just getting on with the job as I usually did. ‘And I don’t feel cold at all.’ This part, at least, was true. I actually felt pretty damn warm.

‘Right.’

Five minutes later I was sat in the living room, where Michael already had the wood burner fired up. Pilot was lying in front of it, snoring. As we entered, he woke and lifted his head, his tail banging lazily on the floor as he decided whether he could muster the energy, or inclination, to relinquish his comfy spot.

‘I went out for a run last night and first thing this morning. I don’t think he’s used to quite that much exercise.’

‘I think you’re right. He was a little overweight when he came to us. He did get walked, just perhaps not as much as he needed. Looks like that’s changing.’

‘I don’t know if he’s too impressed about that.’

I touched Michael’s arm, still looking at the dog. ‘He’s loving it.’ I broke away to lean over and give Pilot a stroke. ‘I didn’t know you were a runner.’

Michael lowered himself to the floor beside us, stretching his long legs out in front of him, one knee falling to the side a little.

‘I’m not really. Too many years of rugby has knackered my knees a bit but I still do it sometimes. Good for clearing the head.’

I stored that nugget of information away. A bit of head clearing didn’t sound like a bad idea to me at the moment. Although, let’s face it, me and running equalled a very unlikely pairing. Especially today, when keeping upright was proving a tough enough challenge as it was.

‘You know, you really don’t look well. Why don’t you let me take you home?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s nothing. I’m sure it’ll go off.’ I wished I was as confident of this as I made myself sound.

Michael watched me for a moment. ‘And people call me stubborn.’

‘It’s not that at all. You of all people understand the kind of pressure running your own business puts on you. You can’t just go taking sick days willy-nilly.’

‘I get the feeling you don’t do anything willy-nilly.’

‘Great. Another statement that makes me sound incredibly boring.’

‘That’s not what I meant. So how many sick days have you taken since starting your company?’

The truth was I hadn’t taken any. I’d rearranged a couple of appointments so that I didn’t go taking germs to clients, but I’d never actually had a day in bed and not worked. My biggest concession was a couple of hours on the sofa on a particularly rough day. It was just what I did. What I’d always done.

When I was sick as a child, Mum generally wasn’t in an appropriate enough state to snuggle me into the duvet and dose me up with Calpol. I didn’t even know that was a ‘thing’ for ages. I never resented Mum for it; it was just how it was. I didn’t really remember a time that it wasn’t. So I just got on with it. On the times when she would sober up and hazily realise I was full of some bug or other, I’d see her overcome with a wash of guilt and she’d make an effort to try and do the traditional mum thing. Until she took another drink and her world became blurry again. In truth, it had actually been pretty good training for running my own business. Once again, it was just a case of getting on with it.

‘I do understand. It’s hard when everything’s on you.’

I flicked my eyes up. ‘I just hope I haven’t brought any germs to you, though.’

He gave a half-smile. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty resilient. Even germs think I’m too much hassle to live with.’

I gave a weak smile, which exactly matched how the rest of me felt.

Half an hour later, I became aware of Michael studying me. I brought my head up, the effort of doing so seeming three times as hard as usual. He narrowed his eyes at me.

‘OK. That’s it. You’re going home.’

‘What? No, just let me finish – ’

‘The only thing that’s going to be finished here is you if you carry on. You look bloody awful.’

I gave a watery smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’ve no colour at all and I can see a film of sweat on your forehead.’

The horrified look I gave him was swiftly followed by me scooting the back of my hand across my forehead, which did indeed feel damp. Lovely. Bearing in mind I felt about as warm as a bag of frozen peas right now, this seemed a little odd. Not to mention mortifyingly embarrassing.

‘It’s just a little warm in here. You’re in a T-shirt! It’s hardly the Arctic.’

‘And you’ve shed three layers, put them back on, and then taken them off again since you got here and are now sitting in a sleeveless top shivering.’ He leant over and put the back of his hand on my forehead, ‘And you’re burning up. You’re done.’

I looked up at him, his hand still lingering on my forehead.

‘Don’t think I won’t throw you out if you refuse to leave. You already know I can be an arrogant arse when I want to be.’

I tried to laugh and ended up coughing.

‘Up you get.’ He pushed himself up and reached a hand down to me.

Surreptitiously I wiped my own hand on my dress before taking his. As I raised my eyes, I saw the grin. Caught. It was testament to just how crap I was now feeling that I was almost beyond caring of this fact. Almost.

I stood, putting in what I felt was an Oscar-worthy performance of feeling better than I did. But apparently the Oscar this year was going to someone else because as I made to step towards the door, the world began turning a bit blurry. And then a lot blurry. And suddenly the floor looked a lot closer than I seemed to remember it looking a second before.

In the distance I heard someone calling my name. ‘Kate? Katie?’

As my eyes regained their focus, I raised them and met Michael’s. The normally faint lines on his brow were deeper as he looked at me, and my body was being held close to his. I could feel his heartbeat and the taut hardness of his chest against mine. And then his arms moved and I was scooped up.

‘What are you doing?’ I squeaked out, my throat now deciding to join in with all the other bits of my body that weren’t functioning at optimum levels today.

‘I’m putting you on the sofa and I’m phoning Janey.’

‘No. Don’t, please. She has more than enough on her plate right now. I don’t need anyone.’ I gave a push against his chest, which achieved absolutely nothing.

Michael bent his knees, two loud cracks emanating from them as he did so, and deposited me gently on the couch. I immediately tried to push myself up and felt the sweat break out on my forehead again. Michael gave me a look that as much as said ‘I told you so’.

‘Michael?’ I said, my voice quiet.

He leant in, hand brushing my brow, his voice gentle. ‘Yes?’

‘I think I’m going to throw up.’ At which point, I lost the ability to concentrate on the horrifying embarrassment of the situation and focused instead on trying not to heave over my client. As the world swam in front of my eyes again, I managed to focus on the bowl that Michael had produced within seconds – clearly his size belied his speed – and vomited. Excellent. My mortification was now entirely complete.

Michael ignored my request not to call Janey – big surprise – and the next thing I knew she was perched beside me on the sofa, stroking my forehead.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi. I told him not to call you. I’m fine. Really. Just ate something a bit dodgy probably.’

‘Katie, love? Can I let you into a secret? And don’t take this the wrong way.’

I raised an eyebrow in reply as it took less effort than speaking.

‘You look like crap. And I mean that in the nicest way.’

‘Of course.’ I gave her a watery smile.

‘It looks like you’ve caught that bug that the kids had the other week. It should only last a few days but I’m not letting you go home on your own like this. You’re coming to our place where I can keep an eye on you.’

I mustered up all my strength, which admittedly right now wasn’t a whole lot, but it was enough.

‘No Janey, I’m not. I’m going home. I promise I will go straight to bed, but I’m not imposing on you. You’re pregnant, for goodness’ sake, apart from anything else!’

‘You’re not imposing. And it’s not optional.’

‘You’re overreacting,’ I croaked out, and caught Michael in the glance. ‘Both of you.’ And then I threw up again. I sat back, vaguely aware that Michael was rubbing my back and holding my hair which, thanks to the wind and rain and everything else had now abandoned its foundations and given up on its updo status. I knew just how it felt.

Janey cast her eyes over me, down at the bowl, then back at me again. She didn’t say anything but her look spoke volumes. Removing the bowl, she left the room and a few moments later the downstairs loo flushed.

‘Mikey?’ she called.

Calling Pilot, Michael leant over and scooped his arm under my legs.

‘Hold on,’ he instructed, and I did. All of a sudden I was exhausted, completely and utterly. Without thinking, I rested my head against his chest and felt his arms tighten around me. Janey laid my coat over me and all four of us, five if you counted the teddy Pilot now insisted on taking everywhere, left the house. Janey unlocked the car door with the remote and popped the boot as she got in.

Michael looked at the dog. ‘Up.’ Pilot obeyed, sitting down on one hip.

Michael tipped me towards his body, so that I was resting heavily on his chest for a moment as he quickly grabbed the boot lid and pushed it closed before wrapping his arm back around me. As he turned, I vaguely caught sight of the dog’s face, replete with teddy dangling from his mouth by one arm, peering contentedly out of the back window.

Janey had already opened the back door for her brother and Michael now slid us both in the back seat. Adjusting our position, he reached over to fix the seat belt in place as my vague fumblings were having little effect. Plugging it into the holder, he gave Janey the OK and she pulled off, out into the traffic.

Outside the window the sky was dark with cloud. It had barely lightened the entire day. Thankfully, Christmas lights threw their cheer from people’s front windows, and strings of them stretched across the roads, their lights bright against the gloomy backdrop of sky. In fact, they seemed incredibly bright today. I closed my eyes against them momentarily.

‘You OK?’ Michael’s soft accent drifted towards me.

I nodded, my hand immediately moving to the back of my neck as I did so, at the soreness the movement caused.

‘I think we need to get you into bed.’

I bumped my head against his shoulder, in part because I seemed to have little control of it as we rounded a corner.

‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’

His laugh was soft but I felt it rumble through his chest as he pulled me towards him. The kiss he dropped on the top of my head was even softer. In fact, it was so soft, and so…well, out of character for our relationship that I could only think that whatever delightful bug I was fighting was now causing me to hallucinate. But I’d had worse dreams than an undeniably gorgeous man holding me close, smoothing my hair back and resting a large, cool hand on my forehead so, right now, I was happy just to drift about in this one. And categorically ignore the bit of it where I’d thrown up in front of him. Twice.