Читать книгу Playing for Keeps: A fun, flirty romantic comedy perfect for summer reading - Rosa Temple - Страница 17

Chapter 8

‘I miss you so much.’

Before I knew it, the evening had drawn in and I was still on my back on the big red sofa in the small living room, looking up at the shadows cast by the tree outside the window. The shadows had formed the shape of a tall, thin man dancing on the ceiling above me but had changed shape and angle as the sun began to disappear from behind the rooftops opposite. My mind had gone off at weird tangents as I thought about Stella’s visit and subsequently my relationship with Hugo.

It hadn’t been a bad relationship, not really, but it had always been tinged with a hint of disaster. It was clear Hugo and I were never meant to be, but I still couldn’t stop wondering about his mysterious illness and why it would bring him back to London. Maybe he hoped to run into me by chance and start the whole pursuit thing again. That could be why he didn’t want his friend Stella to give the heads-up about his visit.

I thought about how different my life could have been with Hugo. He was as artistic as Anthony but as a musician, not a painter. He was also as keen as Anthony was for me to fulfil my dreams. He could have been just as supportive of my career choice as Anthony, just as helpful, just as proud of my achievements. I did love Hugo once, so deeply I thought I would die when he walked out on me. But my love for Anthony was so different. So complete, I suppose you could say. Just when I thought loving a man with all of my heart would be impossible, there he was. And there he was on the other end of the phone to me now.

‘I miss you too, Magenta.’ Anthony had been busy on his commission all day but he hadn’t been happy with the results of two of his paintings. He was on the penultimate one, at last, and he’d extended his stay by another two weeks. I worried that the time would run out and he wouldn’t finish the job in time and end up staying even longer. That would mean him missing the Grand Opening of my shop and I’d be really upset if that happened.

‘Are you close to finishing the paintings?’ I asked, making imaginary circles in the air with my toes.

‘You know it doesn’t work like that, darling. I want to be finished, I want to be home with you, but you know I won’t be happy until I’ve thrown everything into this series.’

‘Yes, I know. Only too well.’

‘I’m pretty sure I’ll be back for the opening.’

‘Pretty sure?’ When did definitely sure become pretty sure, I wonder. ‘I know, I know. I’m not grumbling. I just want you to be here.’

‘How about you coming down at the weekend for a day or two?’

‘No, I’ll just hold up the process and delay you even more.’ I sighed, trying to move the mouthpiece out of range so I didn’t sound pathetic. I was being mature and accepting that this was his life. Yet I loved coming home to Anthony when I was stressed with work and it was a very stressful time. ‘Besides, I finally have staff for the shop. As soon as I get their acceptance letters I’ll need them with me stocking up the shop and arranging it so it looks fabulous. You still haven’t seen the finished job on the refurb.’

‘I got the WhatsApp photos.’

‘But that’s not the same. Okay, sorry.’ I sat up. ‘I’m not going to moan. It’ll only make the time drag if I stay miserable because you’re not here. I’ll let you go back to your work and I’ll speak to you soon.’

‘You don’t have to rush off already, do you?’ He sounded sad.

‘No, I don’t. It’s just that I haven’t eaten and I could do with a bath.’

‘Okay, call me from your bath and talk dirty to me.’

‘Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?’

‘Maybe. Why don’t you get naked and we can discuss it further?’

‘How about we both get naked now and…’ My mobile rang from my bag. It was Anya’s ring, R. Kelly’s ‘Bump N’ Grind’, her favourite song. ‘Shit. It’s Anya. I need to take this… you know, with the baby and everything?’

‘That’s okay. Answer it. Call me when you can. I’m going to get some food.’

I imagined Anthony at the seafood restaurant just a mile up the coast from where he had been painting the seascape series for his client. He’d described to me the overweight owner and how she pinched his cheek between her chubby fingers and told him he needed to eat like a man and not a bird, as if Anthony had been her own son. Sea birds swooped past the open windows and cawed loudly. The sea was rough, big waves pounding against the rocks just below. The whole frontage of the restaurant was concertinaed open and all he could smell was the sea, fresh fish and balsamic vinegar. Anthony would be speaking Italian to the owner and anyone he met while out dining. Even though he told me every time we spoke that he missed me and loved me, I knew he’d be totally happy and well settled with everyday life in Italy.

I was far too busy to fly out there, even for a day. Sure, as the time stretched on, the independent woman in me was doing well, but the nights grew lonelier than I wanted them to be. But I was coping. I was strong. It made me wonder, if I wasn’t a crumbling mess, then did Anthony really miss me that much?

During our first week of separation I went about my day as if a big part of me was missing. Anya thought it soppy and kept reminding me about what great ‘miss you’ sex we’d have when Anthony finally finished that bloody commission. Of course I didn’t tell her that there had been very little action in the bedroom when Anthony was here, so that wasn’t the issue. It was ironic he should say anything about my talking dirty because, prior to his leaving, our love life was just that: all talk. All I was really longing for was for Anthony and me to sort out what was missing. Something certainly was.

‘I love you, darling, but I’d better go,’ I said, looking at the image of Anya and her baby bump, posing for a Marie Claire article, on my phone.

‘No problem,’ said Anthony. ‘Love you too.’

‘Oh, you are there,’ said Anya in a clipped voice when I picked up.

‘Is everything all right?’ I was sitting to attention now.

‘Actually I need you to come over. I’m having Braxton Hicks contractions.’

‘Do you even know what Braxton Hicks contractions are, Anya?’

‘Not entirely. But the baby might come at any moment and you’re supposed to be my birth partner.’

‘The baby isn’t coming at any moment, hon. You’ve weeks to go and you were perfectly fine today at the interviews.’

‘Those interviews must have brought on the Braxton Hicks.’

‘Darling, Braxton Hicks are the practice contractions,’ I said relaxing into the sofa now I knew it was nothing serious. ‘You’re not about to give birth if those are the kind of contractions you’re having. They just let you know your body is getting ready for the big event. That’s all. I remember Amber going into labour – both times – and believe me, you’ll be in no doubt when it’s the real thing.’

‘Frighten me, vye don’t you, Madge!’

‘I’m sorry, but you know this whole giving birth thing is a bit more involved than a few ripples in your tummy, right?’

‘Okay, great. Now I’m really freaking out.’

‘Anya, I think when the time comes, you’ll surprise yourself. Just chill. Run a bath. That’s what I’m going to do.’

‘Madge, I’m getting so bored. I vish this baby vould come already.’

‘Just relax and bide your time. He’ll be here sooner than you know.’

I retired to my own bath after talking Anya down from the ledge. Sinking beneath the bubbles I whisked myself to the seafront in Italy, holding hands with Anthony, walking along the beach and watching waves beat in against the wet rocks. I finally began to chill out. I could feel the tension leave my face, my neck and my shoulders. I let out a long sigh and felt sleepy in no time. My eyelids closed and opened involuntarily, lingering sweeps of my lashes on my cheeks, blotting out the candlelit bathroom and taking me off somewhere far away from Chelsea.

I allowed my eyes to close for a while and suddenly I saw Hugo. He was sitting on the rocks by the sea, wearing a white cotton shirt that flapped at the collar because of a strong wind. He was pale and he was waiting for me but he hadn’t noticed me making my way along the rocky beach. Just then Anthony walked right by him, blocking Hugo from sight. Anthony didn’t notice me either. I suddenly felt cold. I waved my arms so they could both see I was there. Somewhere nearby I heard water by my ear and felt myself sinking beneath it. I woke with a start only to find I’d drifted off to sleep in the bath. The bubbles had melted and one of my candles had flickered out.