Читать книгу The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection - Jane Linfoot, Zara Stoneley - Страница 26

London had been grey since she’d flown back from New York. Grey sky. Grey river. Grey buildings. There hadn’t been a blink of sunshine in a whole week. And to make things more glum, the crazy stories about Maggie and Alex in the gossip mags and on the internet had had the opposite of the desired effect on her work. Instead of being more in demand, a television presenter who’d booked her for style advice prior to a big awards ceremony had cancelled. Maggie refused to let the greyness get her down.

In the galley kitchen of her Battersea studio apartment she located her big jar of duty-free jelly beans. She took it down off a shelf crowded with assorted, pretty, mismatched crockery and shook it. She’d already picked out all the peachy-pie flavor. She started hunting out kiwi, extracting them carefully between an orange-tipped thumb and forefinger.

She was steadfastly ignoring her mobile phone. Every time she picked it up it reminded her that she had three missed calls from Alex – deliberately missed.

She cursed herself for failing dismally to separate emotion from sex in New York. She’d been a thrill-seeker to the hold his body had over hers, and entranced by the effect she seemed to have on him. She’d been a complete idiot. She’d allowed herself to become so wrapped up in him it hurt.

She could delete his calls, go on avoiding him, but it wouldn’t make her feel any better. Facing up to Alex would be better than hiding from him, so after popping a small selection of jelly beans to fortify her she picked up her phone and pressed call.

“Hey. How’ve you been?” Alex’s deep, smooth tone gave her butterflies.

“Fine,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Doing this and that.”

There was a moment of lead silence.

“Any baby news?” He sounded like something was stuck in his throat, as if he too was scoffing jelly beans and had swallowed a handful in one go. “Have you had a scan? Or anything?”

“Nope. Not yet.” She had an appointment in her diary for the following week. It was on the tip of her tongue to say so, but she held back. Alex wasn’t part of her baby plan. It would be a mistake to share any more details than she already had.

“I’ve got a favor to ask.” Alex got straight to the point. “I want you to give me that makeover.”

Maggie laughed. “You don’t need one.”

“I need to make some changes. I want to lose the Jago look.” Now Maggie had a lump in her throat. She thought he’d got past stressing that he wouldn’t be taken seriously as an actor as long as he was associated with having played a vampire. “Please, Maggie.” Her heart flipped. “Say you’ll help me out. I need to change my image – fast. Frankly yesterday wouldn’t be too soon.”

The misgivings in her head counted for nothing when an hour later she found herself sitting with Alex in a café, discussing ways he could tweak his appearance, and sketching out ideas on napkins in pencil; not because that was in any way necessary, simply to keep her fingers busy. She’d got a surprise when she first saw him. He was wearing a beanie and when he pulled it off she saw that he’d had his hair cut short in preparation for playing Hamlet. It suited him, accentuating his chiseled bone structure.

“How have you got time for this?” she asked. Her pencil whisked deftly over a fresh paper napkin. When she looked down she’d doodled a wonky heart. She obliterated it with a criss-cross, coloring between the lines until it was an unrecognizable grey blob. “Shouldn’t you be busy with theatrical luvvy stuff?”

“I’m not needed. They’re ironing out technical glitches.” He smiled a big, lazy smile. “I’m all yours.” His smile was infectious. She’d love him to want her. What he wanted was her expertise in the style department.

Maggie stirred her hot chocolate. It smelt sweet and milky and soothing, and much better than coffee. She’d gone right off that. “You don’t have to leave Mercy of the Vampires behind, you know. In fact, the sooner you accept that it will always be with you, the better.”

“Are you saying I can’t change?”

Maggie leant her elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand. “That depends. You can change your image. You’ve already started.” She flicked a glance at his haircut. “I like the hair, by the way.” She wondered how it would feel beneath her fingers. Aghhhh! Thoughts of that nature would be best avoided. She picked up her pencil again and aimlessly doodled. “I think you need to trust people more. There’s a world of difference between Alex Wells and Jago.”

“He’s a fictional character – obviously. But sometimes it feels like the distinction between him and me gets blurred.”

It hadn’t escaped her notice that a small gang of well-groomed ladies were giggling behind their coffee cups and sending furtive glances in his direction.

“What exactly is it you’re trying to achieve? I can take you shopping. I can advise you about what’s on trend. I can change your look. But I can’t change you.” She tried to rein her opinion in, but couldn’t help herself. “And really truly,” she added, “I wouldn’t want to. In ten years’ time Jago will be part of a whole range of work that you’ll have done. You’ve got to stop wanting to pretend that Mercy of the Vampires didn’t happen.”

Alex ran a hand over his newly short hair. “Put like that it sounds like I’m ungrateful. I’m not. I’ve had ten amazing years.”

“And here’s to the next ten!” Maggie picked up her hot chocolate and clinked it against his coffee mug. “Be proud of Jago,” she suggested gently. “And be grateful that he’s led you to where you are now. You did the right thing when you went to LA.”

They hit the shops and time flew. Revamping Alex was a dreamy assignment, and with New York fresh in her memory, it was even dreamier. It was hard to keep reminding herself that whatever craziness had happened between them in those few out-of-this-world days they’d spent together, it wasn’t real, it had nowhere to go.

And if he asked her to have dinner? Or go back to his apartment? What would she do? She’d better get used to it. The fantasy had ended. What happened in New York stayed in New York.

While Alex was paying for his things, Maggie ducked into the nearest Ladies.

She couldn’t walk past a toilet these days without needing to pee.

She avoided the mirror, unsettled by the empty-shell reflection she’d glimpsed looking back at her. Uncertainty hit her hard. A man to love forever hadn’t happened for her. She’d like to love one. Could one love her back? Right now Alex was the only man on her radar and there was not a chance that he’d love her back. She was pretty sure that he was immune to twenty-four-seven love. Even her mother hadn’t been up for loving her all day, every day. The odds weren’t stacked in her favor. People weren’t meant to stay together forever. They went their own ways and did the things they wanted to do. That’s why she’d come up with her man-free family plan in the first place.

Alex would keep her around for a while. She’d go to his first night. He might invite her to kill a couple of hours over a hot chocolate between performances. But she wouldn’t be his, and he wouldn’t want her. In the end he’d let her go. Just like last time.

A peculiar thought niggled at her. Maybe – just maybe – the right guy would be like buses in her Cornish village. It was a standing joke in the local pub, where would-be passengers preferred to wait rather than spend an hour at the bus stop. Always jovial, the landlord would say “If you wait long enough one’ll definitely be along.” He’d qualify the statement with an aside, adding, “Some time.” Baffled tourists would mutter about the lack of accurate timetables and he’d pour them a pint. Perhaps she just had to wait a bit longer and Another One would come along. Could there be more than one possible perfect fit for everyone? She and Alex were a really great fit. Really. Great. Perhaps somebody else – another great guy – would be along when the time was right.

Something about this theory wasn’t working for her. For a micro-moment Alex had given her back her optimism about finding love, and taken it away again because she’d gone and fallen for him. As long as he was in her life he’d be in the way. He couldn’t be The One, no matter how badly she wanted him to be. Nothing was clear any more. In New York he’d shown her how two people could be indescribably good together. Together their bodies had been on fire. She’d have to force herself to let that memory go. They’d been moseying around a London department store and she was giving him fashion tips. Alex had got to know her again, and all he wanted was a stylist friend. On those terms she wasn’t cut out to be in his life long-term. What she felt wasn’t infatuated crazy-4-U-type love. It was the real deal.

She’d given him a piece of her heart. She should have known better. Since she couldn’t rely on love to always be there, it was better not to risk letting it in in the first place. Long-haul love was designed for other people. Not her. Not Alex. Not together. She clung on to her one certainty. Her love for her baby would be strong and unwavering and unconditional.

She’d forgotten how good it felt being with someone she cared about. That was the trouble. The biggest problem was no longer the onslaught of his sexiness; although she didn’t know quite what to do about that. Right now she needed to unravel the Alex-shaped knot in her heart and say goodbye.

By the time she came out of the loos the knot in her heart had been banished by cold dread. She’d noticed a brownish-reddish spot in her knickers. Her heart froze. Was she going to lose the pregnancy? She stood, statue-still in the middle of men’s fashion and panicked. A handful of customers browsed, picking things up and putting them back, studying colors, labels, prices. Oblivious, Maggie’s head spun. She’d put her free-wheeling life on hold, made new plans, pinned all her dreams on repopulating the cottage her grandmother had left her with a new little Plumtree family member. She could have taken the donor insemination not working first time on the chin. Losing the baby now that she was pregnant? She couldn’t bear it.

“Maggie?” Alex touched her arm and she jumped. “Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you everywhere?” He frowned. She’d gone as white as a sheet.

“Yeah. Yes,” she said. “I’m fine. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you.”

She looked distracted. Something was definitely wrong. “Maggie?”

She clutched her handbag to her stomach, hazel eyes wide. “I’m not fine. I don’t know what to do. I think I might be going to lose the baby.”

She was trembling. Bleak fear spread through his chest. The intensity could have buckled his legs. He fought it. He needed to take care of Maggie. He found a shop assistant and took her down to the ground floor in an elevator normally reserved for merchandise. Leaving the store discreetly by a side door, he flagged down a taxi and gently bundled her in as if she’d been covered in the store’s white sticky tape with “fragile” printed on it in big red letters. From the taxi he called the nearest hospital with an early-pregnancy unit and told them that he was bringing her in. Reeling at the sadness in her eyes, he realized grimly that he couldn’t be more devastated for her.

At the hospital they seemed to wait forever. Finally she was taken away and interviewed by a nurse. He waited, stupidly, helplessly, and surrounded by carrier bags dumped on the grey linoleum. Maggie had been right. He could change his appearance, get a cool new look, but it wouldn’t change what mattered, who he was on the inside. His heart twisted. Choked-up emotion erupted inside him. He suppressed it. Maggie had come so far since he’d gone and become famous and dropped her like a hot potato. Unlike him she’d done it all on her own – not thanks to a famous name, the way he had. He admired her. She was proud of her life and excited to be having a baby. His heart cracked, hoping against hope that everything would be fine.

Pallid, she reappeared in the waiting room and sat gingerly in the chair next him. “Well?” He grated out the only word he could manage.

“They’re going to do an ultrasound,” she whispered. “Check for a heartbeat.” She looked at the floor, drawing his eyes back to the jumble of bags.

Had he wanted a makeover? Really? Or had he just wanted to see her, be with her? He’d figured that if he could lose Jago and start again with a clean slate, he could become the actor he aspired to be, earn his father’s approbation. Sitting next to Maggie, waiting, he didn’t give a monkey’s about Drake’s approval. She was all he cared about. Drake wasn’t his biological father, but that wasn’t what made him a bad dad. He’d messed up. He hadn’t taken care of Cassandra’s heart, and he’d been careless with his sons’ feelings. All through his teenage years, his father had sniped at his mother via the press, and been photographed with serial generically glamorous girlfriends. Some role model!

“Mrs. Plumtree?” The nurse’s voice jolted through him. She eyed him sympathetically as Maggie stood up.

“Aren’t you coming with us, Mr. Plumtree?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s not the dad.” Maggie swept a dismissive hand through the air. She shook her head. “He’s just a friend.”

Alex remained seated, feeling like an idiot. Smoldering under his TV front was an easy out when he didn’t want to confront real feelings. He’d been so completely stuck in his belief that it was impossible to have a relationship – to get to know someone properly – without his fame intruding on some level, that he’d failed to recognize his superlative arrogance, imagining that just about everyone on the planet knew who he was.

The nurse, fortyish in navy scrubs, looked him over shrewdly. “Well, whoever you are, you’re here now and I’m sure your friend would appreciate some moral support.”

Her composure transparently fragile, Maggie frowned. “Hold my hand?” How could he refuse? Her uneasy suggestion sounded half-plaintive, half-hopeful. A deeply entrenched memory of his mother’s isolation and dismay in the time after his father left them lanced him. Time splintered, and a powerful emotion burst through him. His heart ached to do something, anything, to make everything alright for Maggie.

“This way, please,” the nurse instructed. “You can leave Ms. Plumtree’s shopping with the receptionist. She’ll keep an eye on it.”

A bemused smile briefly wiped away Maggie’s worried frown as Alex scrambled to round up the bags. He deposited them at the desk and the bespectacled receptionist, who’d been handing notes to a deceptively scatty-looking junior doctor, removed the pencil that was jammed between her teeth and murmured dreamily, “Is that who I think it is? I wouldn’t object if he held my hand.”

“It’s all looking tickety-boo.” The sonographer slid the ultra-sound thingy through the blue-tinted gel on Maggie’s belly. “Nothing whatsoever to worry about.”

“Wow.” She stared at the screen, awed at the notion of seeing the new life beginning inside her. The close-to-retirement-age woman sent her a kind smile. Her reading glasses dangled on a chain around her neck. The specs must have had an accident because one arm was held on with a sticking plaster. She calmly went on clicking, measuring, and recording. “This is my first,” Maggie said. She squinted at the grey image struggling to pick out a recognizable form. What should I see? A peanut-sized baby? “You must have seen hundreds of these.”

“Indeed. But it’s not every day I see two at once.”

Disbelief gripped Maggie. “Two?”

“I believe so. You’re expecting twins. If you’ll excuse me a minute I’d like to see if the consultant’s free to come in and take a look.”

Reeling from the news that she was expecting two babies, Maggie didn’t know if she was thrilled or terrified. Instant family. It was everything she’d dreamed of. But two?

“Oh. My. Giddy. Aunt.”

“Twins!” Alex’s hold on her hand tightened. “Awesome.”

Everything whirred into a bit of a blur after that. The consultant arrived and explained that breakthrough bleeding was fairly common in early pregnancy, and that everything looked fine. She told Alex to bring Maggie back in if she experienced heavier bleeding or pain. Weary of explaining that he wasn’t the father, and utterly relieved that nothing was wrong, she nodded and agreed. So did he.

Together on the pavement, outside the hospital, she pushed down the rising sense of panic that simmered beneath her upbeat surface. In silence, she zoned out to process the fact that she was having two babies. She’d gone into meltdown.

A London bus whooshed by with a mugshot of Ella Swift on its side. In the genes lottery she’d got eyes of two different colors. With one blue eye and one brown she was the poster girl for unique. She’d started out in modeling, done runway, been on the cover of countless glossy mags, and played the werewolf’s sister in Mercy of the Vampires. She’d just made the jump from TV to movies, and on top of all that Maggie had heard in New York that she was the new face of a cosmetic brand. “Wow. Look at Ella! Now she’s someone who got lucky with her genes.”

Not caring what direction she was headed, Maggie started to walk.

“Sure,” Alex agreed softly. Questioning concern shadowed his face. “Amazing looks are just a part of what makes her special, though. Right?”

“Absolutely. But people like to know who they get their family resemblances from. What if my children resent the fact that I can’t tell them that stuff?

What if Donor Guy lied on his details form? Or worse,” she gabbled. “What if there was a mix-up at the clinic and I didn’t get the guy’s sperm I chose? My babies could have got some other random donor’s DNA by mistake.”

“Maggie.” He dropped his carrier bags on the wet pavement and gripped her upper arms gently, turning her to face him. “Look at me.” She avoided his face. “It’s too late for what-ifs. Genetics is a random business, whatever way it happens. You said so yourself. A genetic lottery? Isn’t that what you called it? The reason you were okay with this in the first place was because your own dad was pretty much a sperm donor. Remember?”

She locked eyes with him. “What if I was wrong?”

“Take it from me,” he insisted. “It takes more than an ejaculation to make a real dad.”

“I’ve been fixated on needing to be the perfect mother and now I’m having two babies, and I don’t know who their dad is, and one day they’re going ask me where they got their eyes and their nose and their smile from, and …”

“And they’ll be able to get that information when they’re old enough.” He pressed a finger into the furrow between his brows.

“I know,” she admitted. “It’s just that I hadn’t thought about the baby – babies – wanting a dad. What if I’m not enough?”

Another red double-decker bus sailed past, full to almost bursting with passengers. Its wheels sloshed through an enormous puddle by a blocked drain and sent up a bow wave of filthy water. Alex laced his fingers through Maggie’s, pulling her behind him, shielding her with his body, so that he got spattered and she didn’t.

At that moment the heavens opened and his efforts to stop Maggie getting drenched were ruined.

“Right, that’s it,” he announced. “You’re coming home with me. You’ve had a scare and you’ve found out you’re having twins. You can’t be alone tonight.”