22.
Eddie
“Are you sure you want to know?”
I groan and pull a cushion out from under my head, holding it over my face. My voice is a muffled growl. “She left with him, didn’t she?”
When Alex doesn’t answer right away everything in me twists into knots. I knew it. I knew Lucy would leave with Stephen, but the fact that she did… I want to throw up. I want to scream.
I pull the cushion away from my head and Alex’s face is as contrite as I have ever seen it. “I’m so sorry, man.”
I shake my head and sit up on the sofa. “No, it’s fine. Of course she left with him. Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Why should it matter? It doesn’t change anything. She is free to date who she wants.”
There’s a moment’s pause where nothing can be heard except for the pounding of my heart that seems to be screaming “Liar! Liar! Liar!” so loud I’m surprised that Alex can’t hear it. My world is falling apart. Or maybe it’s already fallen.
Finally Alex takes a deep breath and stands. “Enough. This isn’t you.” Hands on his hips he stands in front of me. “You’re Edward Nightingale. You don’t fucking wallow. As I see it you have two options. Either do something about Lucy or do something with someone else. You can’t just sit here. Get it together, dude. Seriously.”
“But she-“ I start, but he doesn’t let me finish.
“No, Ed. No. I’ve never seen you like this and I don’t like it. I’m not going to let you feel sorry for yourself.” He sighs. “What is she doing today?”
I shrug. It’s her birthday, but I don’t know if she has plans.
“Go over. Go and see her. Talk to her. If you don’t talk to her you’re never going to know where you stand.” I can see the frustration building on his face before it explodes out of him. “For fucks sake! Just do something!”
He’s right. I know he’s right. She’s probably spending the day with Mills or something but I can’t hide from this. I just can’t.
It takes all the willpower I have and some I didn’t know I had to get up and dressed, but somehow I manage it. No, not somehow. I manage it for Lucy. Today is her birthday and if there is even a sliver of hope that I get to spend some of it with her then I can’t pass that up.
Yesterday I realised how much she means to me and nothing has changed since then. Whatever happened between her and Stephen doesn’t matter. I don’t want to think about it. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick and angry, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to spend time with her. I want to see her.
Twenty minutes later I’m stood in front of her door. She’s probably not here. Why would she be? I can hear Alex’s voice urging me forward and so I knock. I hear her before she opens the door and my heart skips. I mean it literally skips.
She is a mess of tiny pyjamas, ruffled hair and a dazed expression that clears and clouds back to confusion in the blink of an eye. “Eddie?”
I grin. She looks gorgeous. So beautiful; floral cotton shorts that leave her long legs bare and a tantalizingly thin t-shirt. I don’t know anyone else who can look an absolute shambles and completely sexy at the same time. Only Lucy. And I can’t help but smile at her.
“Happy Birthday, Lucy.” I hold up a plastic bag and she snorts out a laugh.
“But you already got me a present.”
She beckons me in and I follow her through to the sitting room. “So you found it then?”
“Of course I did! It was such a nice surprise.”
I sit down on the sofa while she leans on the arm of it looking at me. “Did you open it?”
She shakes her head. “I got home so late I didn’t want to open it last night.” She gestures at her body and it takes everything I have not to grab her and pull her to me. “And as you can see, I’m still waking up.”
I laugh. “Well then I think you’ll like this.”
I hold out the bag towards her and she takes it, her fingers brushing mine as she does. Electricity spikes up my arm and from the look on her face she feels it too. That gives me hope. I was happy to see her well. I was pleased to find her alone. I am ecstatic that I have the power to affect her the way that she affects me.
As she examines the contents of the bag that adorable frown appears on her face. “Eggs?”
She looks so confused that I can’t help but laugh, which only makes her frown deepens and my laughter grow. I try to contain it but I can’t stop smiling. Her eyes spark at me. I get up, grin and grab her hand, dragging her through into the kitchen. “Come on.”
Lucy’s laugh is light and fills the room. “Eddie, what are you doing?”
I put my hands on her shoulders, sitting her down onto one of the two chairs in her kitchen and taking the bag away from her. “Relax, alright? I have it all in hand.” I don’t. I’m all nerves and am totally playing this by ear, but I hide it. I figured that she wouldn’t have eaten yet and from her slightly groggy expression when she opened the door I was right. It’s not just eggs in the bag. What she didn’t notice were the bacon, cheese and red onion.
While I start chopping up and frying the onion and bacon, Luce makes us both a cup of tea. We chat and it’s just easy, comfortable. I’ve always liked talking to Lucy. With her there aren’t awkward silences, it just flows the way that conversation is supposed to. Even when there are pauses, it’s not awkward.
I grate the cheese and beat the eggs, whisking it all together before I throw it into the frying pan.
“You know I’m not a fan of eggs, right?”
I glance at her over my shoulder. Her feet are tucked under her on the chair as she hugs the mug of tea to her chest. I throw her a smile as I say, “Trust me, Luce. Just trust me.”
Once the underside is done I put the pan under the grill, watching my creation rise the way it’s supposed to. There aren’t a lot of dishes I’m comfortable with, but this is definitely one of them.
It’s only as I plate up that I feel that tingle of nerves start again. What if I’m wrong about this? What if she doesn’t like it? The same thoughts are clearly running through her mind, because when I turn back to her she is biting her lip. Her eyes don’t leave the plate as I place it down on the small kitchen table in front of her.
“Omelet à la Eddie,” I say with a flourish. “Served with a side of brown bread and ketchup.” She still looks worried so I add with faked confidence, “you won’t be able to taste the egg. Trust me, I am a master of the omelet.”
She nods and cuts a small bite before tentatively trying it. It feels like an age, but it can only be a moment or two later that she is smiling. I release a breath that I didn’t know I was holding, grab my mug and sit down opposite her as she continues eating.
“This is really good, Eddie,” she says, pointing with her fork at the already substantially diminished omelet.
I grin, “Thanks, I made it myself.”
“No, I’m serious.” She cuts another piece and looks up at me with a smile that could melt me where I sit. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
I laugh. “This is one of about five dishes I can confidently cook,” I admit. “My dad taught me. He wasn’t around much, but when he was we’d make breakfast together. I can do omelets, French toast, pancakes, waffles or eggs, poached, scrambled or fried. All part of the Nightingale Special Menu.”
It was always fun, helping Dad in the kitchen. Life with him and Mum could be awkward. He wasn’t around very much and when he was there was no guarantee of the reception he’d get from Mum. I didn’t really know him and he didn’t really know me. We still don’t, I guess. But when we were cooking, it didn’t really matter. We had something to achieve, a goal, and working towards it made our interactions less awkward. It gave us something to focus on away from the emotional dramas and everything else that was going on. It was a bit of a safe heaven.
I glance up to find Lucy’s big brown eyes on me. Curiosity and something else are written across her pretty features. I’ve never seen her look at me like that before. I’m not sure I’ve seen her look at anyone like that before. What the hell made me decide to talk to her about my dad?
I grin at her. “Anyway, it doesn’t compare to your cooking. Not by a long shot.”
She shrugs, ignoring both the complement and the change of topic, and goes back to her omelet. “Your dad was a big fan of breakfast then?”
“I guess.” I don’t know how to answer. He’s not someone I know, not well enough to answer questions about at any rate. I open my mouth to turn the tables, ask about her dad before stopping myself in time. How stupid can you get? Instead I shut up. There’s nothing more to say. I’m not really one for sharing and I’m not quite sure what prompted me to mention my dad in the first place.
I can feel her watching me as I drink my tea. The tension starts to build inside me again as panic sets in. Something about all of this feels so fucking intimate. I try to suppress the urge to leave, pushing past the anxiety that is gnawing at me. I’m here for Lucy. I want to be here with her. I want to deserve her. I want her. I need her. I cannot fuck this up.
As soon as she finishes the omelet I pick up the plate and start washing up. This is something I can do. It breaks whatever little bubble was surrounding us and I can breathe again. Washing up is not intimate. It’s domestic but, as my parents proved, there is a huge difference between domesticity and intimacy. This I can handle.
“Eddie?” Her hand is on my shoulder blade. I turn and she drops her hand, her eyes full of questions I don’t have the answers to.
I grin at her, trying to defuse what came before. “Sorry about that. Just had a funny five minutes, that’s all. So, what are your big plans for your birthday?”
There’s a pause before she answers and I can see her weighing up her options. She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re looking at it.”
I can’t help my frown. “But I thought you’d have plans with Mills or Stephen…”
I regret mentioning his name as soon as I say it, but it’s too late. “Stephen?”
“Well, after last night…”
Her features twist into something resembling disgust as she shakes her head. “Yeah, no that didn’t really… work out.”
“Oh?” My heart is racing as hope springs to life.
“He was just a bit… sloppy.”
Sloppy? The word is so visual and conjures images that can’t possibly be accurate. “Poor guy,” I say.
She grins and hits my chest with the back of her hand. “Oi! No need to look so smug, mister!”
“I can’t help it if I’m the best you’ve ever had.”
“Try only.”
“What?”
She’s blushing again, and I want to stroke her cheek. “We didn’t really get that far before I left.”
“You didn’t fuck?”
“Does a blow job count?”
I dismiss the mental image of anyone else’s cock in that beautiful mouth of hers. My response comes out strangled. “No.”
“Then no.”
“Good.” I can’t hold back any more, the need to claim her is too great. Pulling her into my arms, I kiss her with more passion than I’ve ever experienced before in my life. I can’t let her leave me. I can’t share her with any other man.
So I take her, and she lets me. Lucy’s hands loop behind my neck, holding me close as our tongues clash. Her body arches into me, rubbing against my chest, fitting me like a glove. My fingers fumble to find more of that gorgeous skin. One hand slips under the back of her t-shirt while the other slides over her arse to the subtly silky spot where her shorts end. She is so fucking soft.
Her hands caress the hair at the nape of my neck and it feels so good I can’t help but groan. I don’t know what she does to me, but I love it. I duck my head down, kissing and sucking on her neck as she digs her fingers deeper into my scalp.
“Oh God. That feels so good.” I trail my tongue up her neck to pull on her earlobe with my teeth, loving the way she whimpers. “You are so sexy, baby.”
Her hands still and it’s as though she is suddenly frozen stiff. I start to move back but her hands are way ahead of me, pushing me away from her. What the hell is going on?
“Luce?”
She shakes her head and turns away from me, wrapping her arms around her waist like she’s trying to hold herself together. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I can’t do this.”
There’s a tremble in her voice that almost breaks me. What the hell is going on? Is she… I put my hand on her shoulder and- shit. She turns around. There they are. Tears welling in the bottom of those big brown eyes. Shit. What the fuck have I done?
“Lucy?” I keep my voice soft, trying to figure out what has happened. Moments ago Lucy was warm and soft in my arms, pushed up against my body, so close she could have been a part of me, but now? She may be only a foot away from me but from the look on her face it may as well be the bloody Channel. I don’t know what happened.
“What are we doing?” She looks so small. I open my mouth to respond but the words don’t come out and she keeps talking. “I can’t do this. I know I said I could, and I’m sorry. But I just can’t. I’m not a ‘baby’.” She mutters the word ‘baby’ like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. “I can’t be your bit on the side.” She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever is about to come next and I brace for impact. “So I think you should go.”
Before I can respond she is turning and walking towards the front door. I stride after her. “My bit on the side? My bit on the side of what?” She’s not listening to me. I reach out for her. “Luce.”
Spinning her around, I hold her in place, ducking my head so it is level with hers. “Lucy.” I need her to listen to this. I need her to hear me. “You’re not my bit on the side. You’re my bit. Full stop.” And I mean it. She’s mine, or I want her to be if she would just listen to me.
She shakes her head and I can tell it’s not going in. “That’s sweet of you to say, Eddie. Really, it is. But you’re a casual kind of guy. You’re the ‘no strings attached’ guy.” Her words cut deep, but I try to hold it together. “And that’s fine because you make it work for you. I’m not judging. But it doesn’t work for me.” Her agitation is palpable.
I lift my hand slowly, stroking a hair from her face, edging closer to her. “I know.”
“I can’t do that. I tried but I just can’t. I want the person I spend time with to want me there. Not just any nameless, faceless body. I am a complete person. I’m more than an orifice.”
My hands fall from her. What the hell? I’m a bigger creep than I thought. How could I ever have made her feel like that? It was the furthest thing from my mind. The joy of being with Lucy was the fact that it was Lucy. It was her, laughing, crying, shouting, moaning however she comes. It was always Lucy. I’d thought that feeling was mutual. How can she not see how important she is to me? “Shit, Luce. I never thought that at all. If I’d known you felt that way, I-“
“No, Eddie. I know you didn’t.” Her hand is small on my forearm and I appreciate the feel of her skin on mine. It calms some of the anger that is bristling inside me. That she should ever feel that way. “I just… I need…”
She sighs and I catch her to me, her head lolling forward against my shoulder. I smooth my hand down her back. “I know, Luce.” I keep stroking her back, keep murmuring reassurances until her breathing calms. “I meant what I said,” I say quietly when I think she is ready to hear me. “You’re not my bit on the side. I don’t want to see other people. I want you.”
She looks at me, her eyes pink and wide and her lips so close to me that I could lean forward and kiss her. “You want me?”
I nod.
“But-“
I cut her off before she can give me more excuses. “I was going to tell you yesterday, but you weren’t here and then I saw you with Stephen. He was all over you and you looked so happy. Alex suggested I find someone else to take my mind off it. But I didn’t want anyone else. I just want you.”
“Is that why you looked so angry yesterday?” She takes a step back to get a better look at me.
I nod again, wanting for her to see the sincerity in my eyes, waiting for her to say something, anything to take me out of this misery. Admitting my jealousy makes me feel vulnerable. I’ve opened up to her and now all I can do is wait.
“You should go, Eddie.”
I’m stunned. Speechless. I could see this going a lot of ways, but I did not expect that. Never that. Not from Lucy. Not from my Lucy.“What?”
“I’m serious, Eddie.” She turns and opens the front door before turning back to me. “I need you to leave.”
“Why?” I will go. I can tell she doesn’t want me there and I won’t stay where I’m not wanted, but I need to know what I did wrong.
“Because it’s my birthday and I’m not going to stand here and let you tell me that the reason you think you want some kind of relationship with me is because you didn’t like seeing someone else playing with your new toy.”
I’m staring at her dumbly but she’s holding firm.
“I am willing to put up with a lot, Eddie. But not this, not from you and not today.”
Not today. I nod, the pain in my chest tightening into an acute ball of agony.
I don’t know how I manage to walk past her. It takes all of my concentration to hold back the tears I can feel forcing themselves to the surface. Not today. I am such a fucking arse. At the door I turn, but I can’t bring myself to look at her. Instead I find myself concentrating on her knees.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t… I thought…” I thought we had something, that we could be special, that we could be great together. It doesn’t matter. It’s not important what I thought. I go back to what’s important. “I’m sorry.”