Chapter Twenty
Harry
I’m taking Alice out to dinner and the movies tonight, while Di and her team transform Blitz for Alice’s leaving party tomorrow. By the sound of it, Di’s roped half the guys at Blitz into helping her, and amazingly Alice doesn’t have a clue.
I pick her up at her house, as her mum’s working a late shift and has the car. Alice is wearing a pink denim jacket and a dress that shows off her gorgeous legs. Although she always looks hot, tonight, in those high heels, she’s smoking.
“I’m glad you’re on the menu tonight.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, inhaling her perfume like it’s my reason for existing.
“If that’s a subtle hint that you want to skip the restaurant and movies, then I’ve bad news for you.”
We walk to the car, and I hold open the door so she can slide inside. “I can wait.” She’s staying the night, and although I haven’t asked her yet, tomorrow as well. Hell, why wouldn’t she? It’ll be out last night together for a while.
The Italian restaurant is about a twenty-minute drive. The soft lighting sets the right mood, the round tables have white tablecloths to the floor, and original artwork graces the walls. It’s the kind of place Lucas, Mac, and I used to frequent with Mum and Dad when we were growing up, but I’ve rarely set foot inside a classy restaurant in the last five years.
We’ve just finished sharing our desserts—traditional tiramisu for me and chocolate fudge cake with cream for Alice—and I’m dying for coffee when my phone rings.
“My sister has great timing.” I nearly shove my phone back in my pocket, when her message from a few weeks ago echoes through my mind.
Are you dead?
“This won’t take long,” I tell Alice, who smiles and shakes her head.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I take the call. “Mac, can I get back to you?”
She’s almost incoherent, and my smile slides from my face. “What? Slow down. Are you okay?”
“It’s Archimedes. They had to put him to sleep. It was awful.”
“Aw, shit.” I slump back in my chair as memories of that big, fat cat play through my mind. Mum’s last cat. It’s like another thread binding her to us has unraveled, and I let out a ragged sigh.
“Can you come ’round now? We’re burying him next to the others.”
That pulls me back to the present. “I can’t right now. I’m out with Alice.”
“Bring her, too. She’s a cat person, so it’s okay.”
I have no answer to that because how does Mac know Alice is a cat person? They’ve only met a few times at work.
“Harry.” There’s a touch of hysteria in Mac’s voice now. “You have to come. We have to say good-bye to him properly. You know that.”
“I’ll speak to Alice.”
When I end the call, Alice takes my hand. “What’s the matter?”
“We’ve been invited to the funeral for my mum’s cat.”
“Oh,” she says, like that’s a perfectly normal thing to be invited to. “I’m so sorry. A funeral?”
“It’s tradition. Look, we don’t have to. We had plans, and it’s fine if you’d—”
“It’s okay. You can’t break tradition. How old was the cat?”
“About nineteen. He had a good innings.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Your mum’s last cat.”
She remembers I told her that? A weird pain pierces through my chest. “All six of them died during the last five years. It’s harder on Mac, as she still lives at home.”
Alice squeezes my fingers. “No, it’s not.” Her voice is soft, and I give her a tired smile. Because she’s right.
It’s bloody hard for me, too.
…
Alice
Despite the London traffic, it only takes half an hour before we arrive at Harry’s childhood home in Notting Hill. I try not to be overawed but fail. It’s one thing admiring the mid-Victorian, three-storied house online, but it didn’t quite feel real then. And even though it’s dark outside, there’s no disguising the elegant grandeur of the Tudor-Gothic style of the residence or the fact it has a detached garage and horseshoe driveway.
I think my entire house would fit inside that garage.
As we approach the front door, Harry threads his fingers through mine.
“Lucas is here.” There’s a grim note in his voice, and I follow his glance to where a low-slung sports car is parked.
Nerves attack me. Even though I was touched that Mackenzie had invited me, now I’m having second thoughts. “Are you sure it’s okay I’m here? I mean, it feels like it should be a private family thing.”
He pulls me close. “She likes you.”
Oh, wow. I didn’t expect that, and I smother my inappropriate smile. “That’s nice.”
He inserts a key into the lock and opens the door.
The central staircase is a feature in its own right, and the whole place is flooded with light from a huge chandelier that hangs from the center of an impressive ceiling molding. He’s barely shut the door when Mackenzie comes into the hall.
She and Harry hug, and I’m seriously regretting being here. She probably only extended an invite to me out of good manners, not in a million years expecting I’d accept. And usually I wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to cut short my penultimate night with Harry.
“Alice.” She tears herself from her brother and gives me a watery smile. “I’m so pleased you’re here. Harry pretends to be such a tough nut, but he’s a bit of a cat person on the quiet.”
“I know.” Goldie and Bambi can’t get enough of him on the brief occasions he’s stepped inside my house. Harry grunts, like he’s not sure how he’s supposed to respond to that. Mackenzie loops her arms through ours and leads us across the hall to one of the side rooms. I remember why I’m here. “I’m so sorry about your cat.”
Further words die in my throat as my gaze fixes on the grand piano in the corner of the room, which I doubt would squeeze into our living room at home. The period furniture looks authentic, the wood is scuffed, and the upholstery worn around the edges, which gives the whole room a warm and lived-in vibe.
“Thanks,” Mackenzie says. “Everyone, this is Alice.”
His dad is an older version of Harry, with just a touch of gray at the temples, and although I get the feeling he doesn’t have the faintest idea why I’m there, he’s very pleasant in a vague kind of way.
“And this is Margo,” Harry says, and my sense of reality slips sideways. Margo is the anchor on a hard-hitting talk show on the BBC, where she shreds politicians on a regular basis. There’s also Duke, a rock star who my mum was crazy about in her teens, and who now heads an international charity for refugee children and has a reputation for being a real hard arse.
They’re lovely to me, although it doesn’t help unlock my frozen tongue. All I can manage is a strangled, “Hello, nice to meet you,” which makes me cringe inside because we’re here for a cat’s funeral.
Margo then winds her arm around Mackenzie’s shoulders, and Duke gives Harry a play punch on the arm. “Sexiest geek, eh? It’s always the quiet ones you’ve gotta watch, isn’t it?”
He directs this remark to me, and all I can think is Mum still listens to all of your music, which is hardly the right response. “Um, yes.”
I had no idea Harry’s family is such good friends with high-flying celebrities. It’s obvious they’re right at home here. And although it’s not the kind of thing you just come out and share, Margo and Duke are huge. A warning would’ve been good.
“Sexiest geek?” His dad appears bemused, and Duke soon fills him in on the details while Harry hunches his shoulders and scowls at his shoes. It’s an effort to stop staring at him, but while I love him in jeans and trainers, he takes my heart to a whole new level when he goes casual chic.
Lucas strolls in. Even though I’ve never met him, there’s no mistaking him, but it’s the woman who follows him that grabs my attention.
Yolanda.
My stomach pitches. I asked Harry outright about her the other day. Why didn’t he tell me she was just a friend of the family? But he acted like he hardly knew who I was talking about.
“Come on,” Mackenzie says, marching over to the French doors, and we all follow her into the garden, which has old-fashioned street lamps dotted around, giving plenty of light to see the expanse of lawn and multiple flower beds.
Mackenzie leads us to the far corner where there’s a gorgeous rose garden, with a fountain in the center of a naked woman with the head of a lioness. Oh, right…this must be the pet cemetery.
I shift from one foot to the other and can’t help glancing at Yolanda again. She’s on the other side of Harry. In ripped jeans and without any noticeable makeup on her flawless olive complexion, she looks effortlessly fabulous.
Relief washes through me that at least I’m not in my usual nondesigner jeans and trainers. I’d be even more out of place.
I try to concentrate on Mackenzie, who’s scattering rose petals over a newly turned patch of earth, but it’s a little unnerving. Before I can stop myself, I glance over at Duke, who’s standing between Lucas and Mr. Carter. I can’t believe I’ve met Mum’s idol. She’ll freak when I tell her.
I forcibly tear my gaze away. Mackenzie is giving a eulogy, and I swallow the lump in my throat. Could I do this for Goldie or Bambi? But I don’t want to think about that. They’re going to live for years. It doesn’t stop my eyes from watering though.
And I still can’t stop giving Duke and Margo furtive sideways peeks.
…
Harry
I always hate when Mac does this, although it’s my own fault. Lucas and I thought it was a good idea to start this ritual when Empedocles died eight months after Mum, but it gets harder each time.
At least we won’t have to go through this again.
Alice is gripping her hands together, and her head is slightly bowed. Why aren’t I holding her? She didn’t care about messing up our date, and any pretense at keeping our relationship a secret is well and truly down the toilet. Can’t say I’m sorry. It’s time. I pull my hand from my pocket, and an eerie shiver skates along the back of my neck as it hits me. She’s not looking at the ground. She’s staring at Lucas.
My muscles lock. The hell she is. I glance to my right, but Lucas appears oblivious. Calm the fuck down. I take a deep breath and focus on Mac, but from the corner of my eye I keep seeing Alice shoot surreptitious glances at my brother.
I didn’t think she was into the celebrity scene. Not Alice. She’s nothing like Clare. How much longer is Mac going to be? I need to get out of here.
When Mac finishes, we all troop back to the house. Alice doesn’t hold my hand or loop her arm through mine, the way she usually does when we’re out together, and I shove my hands back in my pockets. Before I can announce we’re leaving, Dad pats me on the arm. “Can I have a word, Harry?”
“Awkward,” I respond, since I’m standing right next to Alice and there’s no way I’m leaving her standing by herself in the middle of the room. Dad might be a genius, but sometimes he doesn’t have a fucking clue.
“Hey.” Yolanda appears by our side, flashing me a smile before focusing on Alice. “We haven’t met. I’m Yolanda. Want something to drink?”
“Yes, thanks. I’m Alice, by the way.” She turns to me. “I’ll see you in a minute then.”
“Yeah, sure.” I’m scowling at her retreating back and can’t help it. Dad clears his throat, and with reluctance I drag my attention from Alice. No prizes for guessing what he wants to talk about.
“This sexiest geek award,” he says, confirming my suspicions. “I’m guessing it’s connected to your RPG?”
Now that’s a surprise. Usually he refers to it as that computer game.
“That’s right.” Lucas joins Alice and Yolanda, and Alice smiles at whatever he says to her. What the fuck did he say?
“That’s an odd award.” Dad frowns into space. “Why sexiest? What does that have to do with it?”
“Tell me about it.” Whatever the three of them are talking about, they’re having a great bloody time. Now Lucas is showing Alice some of his tattoos, and she looks enthralled, especially when Yolanda pushes up my brother’s shirt sleeve to show off his inked bicep.
“Maybe I should take a look at this game of yours.”
That manages to drag my attention from Alice. “Really?” In all the years since Caleb and I first developed the concept for Exitium, Dad’s never shown any interest in it, beyond discussing the financial side of things. “Sure. Whenever you want.”
From the corner of my eye I see Yolanda go over to Duke. Alice says something to Lucas and he grins. Whatever he says in response makes her whole face light up. Disbelief churns through me as they both pull out their phones and exchange numbers. What the fuck is that all about?
Dad goes off to speak with Duke and Margo, and as I make my way over to Alice, Yolanda joins us. Lucas is now regaling her with one of his countless amusing anecdotes of life in the fast lane, and she’s smiling at him as though he’s the only guy in the room.
Get a fucking grip. She’s not interested in Lucas. So why has she taken his number?
“You work with Harry, then?” Yolanda says, her hand on Lucas’s shoulder. So much for my brother thinking she just wants to be his mate.
“Yes. But I’m off to university on Saturday morning.”
Shit. I thought we’d get the day together. Although…I could always drive her up to Durham.
She and Yolanda talk for a few minutes about her courses before Lucas chimes in and the conversation shifts. Is he flirting with her? He fucking is. The fact that my brother can rarely open his mouth without flirting is irrelevant, but worse than that is Alice is enjoying it.
Fuck this. We’re leaving.
…
Alice
Once we’re in the car and heading home, I let out a long breath. What a weird evening.
“Well, that went well.” Wait, that didn’t sound right. “I mean, for a cat funeral.” And that just sounds bizarre. “You know what I mean.”
He grunts, as though he doesn’t want to talk about it. Not that I blame him. I don’t want to talk about his dead cat either, because it doesn’t matter how hard I try to fool myself, Goldie and Bambi are well past middle age in cat years, and I can’t bear to imagine being without them.
Change the subject.
“You should’ve told me your family was friends with the stars.” I smile at him, even though he’s not looking at me. Although he’s trying to hide it, it’s obvious he’s really cut up about tonight.
“Why?”
“Why what?” I frown, lost.
“What difference does it make? They’re just people.”
Mum would beg to differ when it comes to Duke. What’s eating Harry, anyway? “There’s no need to jump down my throat.”
“I didn’t think you were into the celebrity scene.”
“I’m not.” This conversation’s taken a really strange turn, and I’m not sure why he’s acting so antagonistic. Was it something his dad said to him?
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I hold back. If he wanted to share, he’d tell me, wouldn’t he? I rack my brains to think of another topic, which is weird in itself, since I’ve never had to do that with Harry before.
“Lucas is really nice.”
With his highlights, earring, and tattoos, I’d assumed he was totally up himself, but he was great. That’ll teach me to go by appearances. Yolanda was lovely too, even if she did look like a goddess who’d accidentally fallen among a bunch of mortals.
“Yeah, he’s great.” Harry grinds the words between his teeth.
Okay, not quite the reaction I was going for.
“I know you’re identical twins, but you’re actually not very much alike at all.” And I’m not just referring to the highlights, earring, and tattoos, either. It’d be exhausting to spend a whole evening in Lucas’s company. He barely even pauses for a breath. Although I’m not judging him for it, especially when, after I told him how much Mum loves Duke, he offered to get some tickets for the massive charity concert with loads of stars that Duke’s doing at Christmas. Mum will seriously lose her mind if that happens. I’m about to tell Harry when he cuts me off.
“Is that right.” Now he sounds pissed off, and he slings me a glare that leaves me reeling.
What the hell?
“What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me.” What on earth did his dad say to him? “Is there a problem with your dad?”
“No.”
Wow. He’s acting as though we’re strangers, with his monosyllabic responses and don’t-touch-me body language. But he’s never behaved like this with me, not even the first day we met.
A tiny, unbelievable possibility as to why he’s in such a foul mood flickers through my mind. No way. I shoot him a sideways glance, and a combination of nerves and excitement tumble through my stomach.
Is he pissed because I’m leaving on Saturday and we won’t see each other again? And that, obviously, means he doesn’t want us to break up tomorrow?
My heart’s thumping so hard it’s difficult to breathe, and I grip my fingers together for courage. I should’ve asked him this before, but reasons. “You know, if you want, we could still keep in touch when I’m in Durham.”
There’s no mistaking the hostility in the glare he throws me this time. “You think?” Derision drips from the words, and it’s like a fist squeezes my heart. “That’s damn decent of you, Alice.”
The biting sarcasm rips a hole in my chest. This isn’t the Harry I know. I can’t even drag oxygen into my lungs, never mind formulate a cutting response.
The silence thunders between us, and I hitch shallow breaths through my mouth to avoid the constriction in my throat. Tears prickle behind my eyes, and I blink rapidly. I’d rather die than cry in front of him. Of every scenario that I’ve played through my mind on how we’d say good-bye, Harry being a prick wasn’t among them.
I’m tempted to tell him that. But this isn’t how I want things to end between us. It’ll ruin all the good memories, and I don’t want that. Even if it means swallowing my pride.
It still takes me about twenty minutes before I can push the words out.
“You’re right. It’s a stupid idea to keep in touch. But at least we can part as friends, can’t we?”
His knuckles clench on the steering wheel. “Just friends now, is it? Great idea.”
The venom that drips from each word shouldn’t hurt—because for whatever reason he’s determined to be a complete bastard—but it does, because he’s always loved my ideas. Right from the day I started working for him.
“Forget it.” And fuck swallowing my pride. I peer sightlessly through the side window so he can’t see my face. “It was just a suggestion. I always knew this…thing between us had an expiry date.”
His expletive is colorful, even for Harry, but I refuse to look at him. “That’s great. Thank you so fucking much.”
Thank God, I’m almost home. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands and glare at him. “You’re welcome. For all the extra publicity, too.”
That appears to shut him up, until he pulls up outside my house.
I can’t get out of the car fast enough but pause as he turns toward me. “It’s all front with Lucas. Just so you know.”
What the fuck does Lucas have to do with it? I want to give him a frosty, dismissive glare, but I’m too close to breaking down. So, I do the only appropriate thing I can.
I slam the door in his face.