Cassie was pacing around and around the living room and Maria was starting to feel slightly sick. She was ensconced on the sofa, her sore and swollen ankles perched on top of a cushion on the coffee table, swaddled in PJs, dressing gown and a patchwork blanket her mother had made her. She was planning to sit in front of the TV and read her pregnancy books. Enjoy the peace of the empty house while Cassie was out on her date, but now she seemed to be witnessing a freak-out.
‘What the hell am I doing?’ She was walking from one side of the room to the other now, her heels wearing holes in the carpeted floor. ‘I asked him out! I mean, why?’
Maria put down her book. She had read the same paragraph about labour stages five times, and it looked like she was going to have to talk some sense into her mate.
‘You like him, you nursed him back to health, you’ve lived together, you’ve slept together, and been on dates. This is normal, Cass.’
Her horrified look made Maria want to laugh, but she managed to keep it in.
‘Look shocked all you want, but in all the years I’ve known you, a man’s never got under your skin like this. He makes you laugh, he puts up with your weird moods. He likes you!’
She looked around at the cosy living room, which was now all dust-free and welcoming. Waving her hands around the room, she made her point.
‘Plus, your house is actually habitable now, and you can’t tell me that’s not a good thing. He makes you want to be tidy, Cass – the man is a miracle worker. If I could fly, I might even have jetted off to Australia to see whether they clone people like him over there.’
Cassie tittered. ‘He does have a brother.’
Maria rolled her eyes. ‘I think I’m off men for life.’
Cassie frowned, but said nothing. ‘I’m supposed to meet him at the restaurant; he has to go through the menus with the staff. I asked him out for last night, did you know that? He stood me up to go for a drink with one of his mates! It’s ridiculous. Then he asks me out for tonight, and I have to go! What the hell am I doing!?’
She was waving her arms around, windmilling them in panic. Maria was starting to get mad. Why could people never sort their lives out?
‘Cassie! Will you just shut up and go tell him you like him!’
Cassie stopped walking around, almost falling over the coffee table in shock.
‘What?’
‘You know what!’ Maria clenched her fists, shaking them at her pigheaded friend. ‘Sometimes, for a big, independent woman, you are a massive dick! You brought the man home, then dated him, then ignored him, then hit him with your car! You’ve lived together for weeks, and anyone can see the man is mad about you, and now you actually want him, and you’re still moaning!’
Maria started to cry, cuddling her bump in her arms. ‘I have no one, and my baby has no father, and all I want is—’
‘James,’ Cassie said, looking past her.
‘Oh God, I can’t—’
‘No,’ Cassie said, stopping her. ‘James is here.’ She pointed to the doorway.
‘Hi,’ a deep voice said behind her. Turning to the door, she saw him standing there, carrier bags in one hand and a large, rolled-up sheet of paper in the other. He looked Maria up and down.
‘You weren’t expecting me, were you?’
Cassie leant over Maria, taking a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiping her face.
‘I’m sorry, I might have forgotten to pass the message on.’ She didn’t look for one minute like she had meant to pass any message on, and Maria glared at her. ‘Thanks, mate, I have a man to go talk to.’
She hugged her, whispering ‘stop crying like a loony’ in her ear, and then, patting James on the shoulder, she was gone. James hadn’t moved from where he was standing awkwardly in the doorway and as Cassie’s car drove away the silence in the room grew deafening.
‘Sorry, I did leave a message. Annabel wanted to go through the seating charts for the wedding, and the rehearsal dinner? She sent me as a proxy. Cassie called me back, told me to come tonight.’
He lowered the things in his arms, shoulders sagging. ‘I can see now that you had no idea, I’m sorry, I’ll go.’
He went to put the plans on the coffee table and Maria reached forward to touch his hand. Or tried to, anyway. She actually rocked forward awkwardly, reaching her hand out and just managing to stroke his arm.
‘Don’t go, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, but it’s fine. We should go through the plans, of course.’
‘You sure?’ he said, pushing her legs back onto the cushions when she tried to get up. ‘Stay there, I’ll get what you need.’
Maria pulled the blanket off herself and went to stand.
‘I need the bathroom, I’ll be a minute.’
James stood back a little, and she shuffled awkwardly past him.
‘Make yourself a drink, I won’t be long.’
She headed straight up the stairs, walking into the main house bathroom and shutting the door quietly behind her. As soon as the door was shut, she grabbed her mobile phone from her dressing-gown pocket and dialled a number.
‘Hi,’ a sheepish voice answered.
‘Cass,’ she whispered in a murderously low voice. ‘I am going to kill you! How could you do this to me! What the hell am I going to do? I—’
‘I’m sorry, I know.’ Maria could hear the crackle from the car phone. ‘I’m just so sick of you moping, and Lynn said James is sad too. I just thought you needed to do the wedding stuff anyway, and you can’t do it with the happy couple, so James is the contact. He makes you happy!’
‘Oh God, I hate you so much!’ Maria bent to use the toilet. She really did need to pee. As in, every five minutes. ‘Why did you do this!’
‘You just lectured me about being a coward. Now what about you! You like him, Maria, and you know it. The man hasn’t left your side since the first day you met, and he’s never let you down. Talk to him, tonight. See what happens, and… oh dear God, are you peeing?’
Maria flushed the chain and jammed the handset back under her chin to wash her hands.
‘Yep, always peeing. Have we met? This little monkey thinks my bladder is a trampoline.’
‘Do me a favour, go put your big girl pants on and talk to the man. And never, ever, ring me from the toilet again.’
‘Maria? You okay?’ James called from downstairs.
‘Oh crap, I’ve got to go. Enjoy your date!’
‘You suck! Enjoy yours!’
Both women hung up cursing the other, even though deep down they knew the other was right.
‘I’m coming!’ she said, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked okay, beside the fact that she was dressed in her PJs and her blonde hair was tied into pigtails at the sides of her head. She looked healthier these days, now the shop was finding its feet. The clothing side had really taken off, and she knew, even if she didn’t get the wedding side back up to what it had been, they would be okay. She could keep Lynn on. This wedding would be cathartic, her way of repairing some of the damage she had inflicted on the Chance family. Damage they didn’t know about, and hopefully never would. It would be proof that she could do this too, that she could do all of this, without Darcy. Without anyone.
She headed down the stairs, and into the lounge, but it was empty. The plans were on the coffee table, still rolled up. He’d left. Oh God, had he heard?
‘Do you always take your phone to the bathroom?’
His voice behind her made her jolt. She could feel his closeness, and as she turned her tummy brushed against him.
‘Sorry, you scared me. I thought you’d gone.’
James shook his head. ‘I would never just leave, Maria. Do you have a grater?’
It seemed her baby was in food heaven. The little button hadn’t stopped kicking since Maria had picked up her fork. In the bags, James seemed to have the contents of half the local shops, and he had proceeded to whip up the best spaghetti bolognaise and garlic bread she had ever had. It was so nice, she wasn’t even bothered she was making a pig of herself. They were sitting in the lounge, watching a programme about people wanting to make a change in their lives by buying a house abroad.
‘I always fancied doing that, you know,’ James said, slurping a piece of spaghetti into his mouth. ‘Buy some shack in the South of France, do it up.’
Maria smiled at the idea. She could just see him doing that, working on some little chateau, the women in the town falling over themselves to butter his baguette.
‘Why didn’t you do it then?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I finished renovating my house, and then I guess I just wanted to keep filling it. It’s still not complete.’
Maria was stuffing a piece of garlic bread into her mouth, groaning with pleasure.
‘Filling it?’ she said through her food. ‘Sorry,’ she said, pointing to her mouth. ‘This… is… goood!’
She swallowed it down. He grinned at her, wolfing down a bite of his own.
‘Answer the question then.’
He looked at the television screen, at a couple sitting on a verandah, talking to the bubbly property expert.
‘What do they have in common, the people on these shows?’
Maria took a swig of her hot tea and thought for a moment.
‘Disposable income?’
James shook his head. ‘Money doesn’t mean much in life.’
‘Says someone who has it.’
He raised a brow at her.
‘I earn it, just like you do.’
She stuck her tongue out at him.
‘The thing they have in common is that they’re in something together. Life’s scary, and exciting, but what’s the point of doing it all alone?’
He gazed at her, his blue-green eyes boring into her, daring her to answer. She rested the plate on her bump, sitting back on the sofa. He leant forward on the couch opposite, putting his plate on the coffee table.
‘I know you didn’t want me here tonight, but I can’t help but think we were meant to meet. Can’t you see it?’
‘I thought you had come to do the table plans, James. I told you, I need to concentrate on the baby.’
‘I’m not asking you to do anything else, I’m just trying to get you to see you don’t have to do it alone.’
Maria sat forward, pushing her plate away. ‘I think we should get on with the table plans. I’m pretty tired, to be honest. I was planning an early night. I don’t need anyone’s help. I can do this without a father.’
She didn’t look at him, she couldn’t bring herself to.
‘I’m not talking about Darcy, Mar.’
She wanted to ask him what he was talking about, what he meant when he said they’d been meant to meet. Did he just mean so that he could help her, or more? Was he offering to be part of her life? She wanted to ask him, but she was terrified of the answer. Would it be what she wanted to hear? If it was, she couldn’t do anything about it anyway.
She spread the plans out on the table, shuffling forward on the couch and reaching for her sticky coloured dots, the ones she used to plan the seating.
‘I just want to work, James, please? Shall we just get to work?’
He nodded, taking their plates and heading into the kitchen.
‘I am glad you’re here, though,’ she said softly. He didn’t reply.
Cassie pulled up in the restaurant car park and, turning her engine off, sat back in her seat and willed herself not to vomit in panic. She thought of Maria at home with James, and hoped she was having a better time. She had been watching them for months, and she just wanted Maria to have a good life. Why shouldn’t she get what she wanted? James was great, and the baby would be cared for so well by them both. She had met enough lowlifes in her job to know that, sometimes, secrets were better buried, to protect people, and let them have their own piece of happiness. If her own parents had been more honest, she might have had a different upbringing herself. Or never existed at all. Some people were never meant to be parents, and some babies were just meant to be born, no matter their origin story.
She locked up her car, grabbing her purse and checking her reflection in the car door before setting off. The new car door, as the other one had a Tucker-shaped dent in it. She smiled at the memory despite herself. Maybe her gung-ho attitude wasn’t the best, but at least she had got to spend time with him.
She walked into the restaurant, oblivious to the stares and looks that half the diners gave her as she walked to the check-in.
‘Hi,’ she said to the suited man on the front desk. ‘I’m here to see Jesse Tucker.’
The man’s face lit up in recognition and he scurried around the desk.
‘Right over here, Cassie. So glad to finally meet you!’
Cassie followed, wondering how much Jesse had said to the people he worked with. The man took her through to the kitchen area, straight past the stainless-steel worktops bustling with activity and inviting smells, and knocked on a side door marked ‘office’.
‘Jesse,’ he said cheerfully, ‘your date’s here.’
The door opened, and there he was. Cassie looked at the man and he winked at her, scurrying off.
‘Hey,’ Tucker said, his lopsided smile making her stomach flip. ‘Come in, I won’t be a minute.’
She walked into the neat office and immediately felt at home. It was Tucker all over, photos on the desk, everything neatly arranged, colour-coded files on his shelves. He motioned for her to sit down on the sofa at the back of the room, but she moved to the desk.
‘This is so you,’ she murmured, picking up a photo frame bearing a younger-looking gappy-toothed Tucker and two people who were obviously his parents.
‘Mum and Dad?’ she checked, running her finger along the faces.
‘Yeah,’ he said, and she could feel his breath on her cheek. ‘You’d love them.’
She resisted the urge to take a step back, to feel his chest against her. ‘I doubt that. Parents don’t really take to me. Apart from Mar’s, of course.’
He wrapped his arms around her, making her flinch, and took the photo frame from her hands.
‘That’s because you never met any that weren’t related to clients, and your own parents don’t count. Mine would love you to bits.’
He dropped a kiss on her cheek, giving her a squeeze.
‘I’m due to go back soon, so maybe next time you can come with me, have a little holiday.’ He must have felt her tense up, because he squeezed her that little bit tighter.
‘Don’t freak out on me, not yet. We have a date, remember?’
He put the photo frame back on the desk, pushing her body forward with his to reach the desktop. She could feel the solidity of him against her. It felt oddly right.
‘I’m pretty much done here. I’ll just nip and tell the chef for tonight we’re off.’
He released her then, walking to the door, and she felt the loss of his body warmth. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her gently to the door. It was as though he couldn’t bear to be far from her, and she was shocked to recognise that she felt it too. She had missed him so much. Too much. It scared her.
He closed the door to his office behind her, leaning in to her till they brushed cheeks.
‘I can’t wait for tonight,’ he murmured into her ear, and she shuddered despite herself. Great, she thought to herself, I’m turning into the heroine from an Austen novel. I might as well buy a petticoat and practise my swooning. She cleared her throat and took a sidestep to get some distance from him.
‘I’ll er… wait at the bar,’ she said, flashing a quick smile and not meeting his eyes. She could feel him looking at her, but she turned and walked as well as she could on shaky legs. Reaching the bar, she flicked her gaze back to his office door, but he was gone.
The bar was quite busy, couples and groups of people engrossed in their own conversations while they waited for their tables. The woman next to her was raving about the food here to her friends. Apparently there was some hot Australian that had come in, bought the place and vamped up the menu. Riding the surge of pride that rampaged through her body and flushed her cheeks, she asked the bartender for a Chardonnay. A large one. She needed to drown the butterflies in her stomach, or at the very least get them a little buzzed to chill them out.
She was just handing over a note to the barman when she felt a sharp pain in her side. Turning, she saw that a man had jabbed her with his finger, digging into her shoulder blade to get her attention. She fixed her face into her best scowl and looked straight into the eyes of Michael Atwood, the slimy, flower-sending ex of her lovely, timid client.
‘Hey, tramp, what you doing in a nice place like this?’ He spat the words at her in a low growl, making great effort to enunciate every consonant like he was trying to hit her with the violence of his words. At the use of the word tramp, she bristled with anger. The message sent to work. She’d known it was him. She also knew how to deal with bullies like this. Bullies who used their masculinity and ‘I am far better than you, little female’ attitude to keep women small and manageable.
‘Good evening, Mr Atwood,’ she said sweetly, looking at the barman directly while she sipped her wine. The barman had obviously heard his comment, and he was looking at her companion intently. She hoped Jesse wouldn’t see him. She didn’t want to have to explain things to him. She’d just cost him weeks off work and she didn’t want to tank his business by causing trouble the minute she walked through the door.
‘Don’t good evening me, you little bitch! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out chasing ambulances?’
He was standing next to a blonde woman, a very pretty, petite woman who was wearing what was essentially a slip. She had her arm linked through his, but she was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Cassie smiled at her, and she smiled uncertainly back.
‘Well, Mr Atwood, we all have to eat. You have a good evening now.’
She wanted to add thanks for the flowers, dingleberry, but she didn’t want to cause a scene, or let on that she had even seen them, let alone been affected. She turned her body slightly away from him, closer to the bar, and sipped again at her wine. The other customers were oblivious, but Cassie could feel the crackle of tension in the air. The woman he was with withdrew her arm slowly, and Cassie knew she felt it too. Another lamb to the slaughter.
He was glaring at her, panting heavily, and she could smell the alcohol on him every time he breathed out. She felt like it was invading her skin, his nasty, drink-fuelled thoughts sneaking in through her pores. She fought the urge to rub the skin on her arms. She looked good, and she felt good. This man wasn’t going to ruin her night. She was still praying for him to get bored and go away, before Jesse was ready to leave, when she felt a yank on her arm. The barman leant over the bar, grabbing his hand.
‘Hey, mate, you need to let go and leave.’ Cassie tried to prise his fingers off her hand, and looked to the girl, but she was gone. His fingers were tight, gripping her skin and piercing it with his sharp fingernails. ‘Mate!’ The barman raised his voice, but he was invisible to Michael as he tightened his grip.
‘Dining out on my money, are we?’ He had spittle forming at the corners of his mouth, his whole face twisted in a truly gruesome way. She thought of his ex-wife and kids, so lovely, normal, and never to be fully rid of this man.
She was suddenly very grateful that she was who she was, and had never taken any guff from men like this. She was also glad Maria had insisted she have her nails done for her date at the fancy Harrogate salon near her office. She turned on her heels, facing him with an eerie grin, and putting her hand over his arm she squeezed. As hard as she could. She felt her nails rip through the top layer of his skin, and she pressed harder. The barman let go, stepping back.
‘Mr Atwood, get the hell off me before I have you arrested for assault as well as threatening behaviour. I earn my own money, defending women against filth like you. Your date left, join her.’
He released his grip on her arm, and she took a subtle step away from him. Her arm was smarting, but she would check it out later. He looked over his shoulder as though checking the veracity of her statement, and then she saw Jesse. He was standing behind Mr Atwood, looking at him as though he wanted to rip his arms clean off his body. Mr Atwood didn’t notice in his drunken stupor and turned back to her. He raised his arm as though he was going to touch her again, but Cassie raised her hand.
‘Don’t,’ she warned. ‘Just leave, now.’
‘I’d do what the lady says,’ Tucker said behind him. The barman was still serving drinks, but tipped his head to Jesse. She realised he must have told him somehow. She burned with shame at making a scene at his workplace. Dear God, why did she always feel so vulnerable, so gawky around him? She never usually had men making her feel like this.
Jesse had his arms crossed, and she could see his muscles pulse and flex under his shirt, his fists clenched tight under his elbows.
‘Oh really,’ Mr Atwood said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. ‘Come to fight her battles, have you?’ He snorted, and the spittle sprang from his mouth, like a trapeze artist on a ribbon. ‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you. Tramps are never worth the effort.’
She heard Tucker suck his breath in through his teeth, but he didn’t move.
‘I don’t need to fight her battles, fella, trust me. Paul, mate, you might wanna move back a bit.’
The barman chuckled and went off to serve the rather bemused drinking crowd.
Cassie looked at Tucker, and he looked right back, as if to tell her he was there, he had her back.
She focused once again on her aggressor and flicked her hair back off her shoulders.
‘I’m leaving now, Mr Atwood, and if you bother me again, I will press charges for assault against you. I have witnesses—’ she pointed to the people around her ‘—and you will be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law. Let’s go, Jesse.’
She went to walk around him, and Jesse took a step forward to take her hand, but he was there again, between them.
‘Who said you could leave, tramp? You ruined my life!’ He was so close, so in her face, that her nose pressed against his. She grabbed him by the shoulders and rammed her raised knee straight between his legs with as much force as she could muster.
‘Urrgghhh!’ Mr Atwood dropped to his knees, holding his privates.
Jesse took her hand and pulled her into his arms. He grabbed her face between his hands and searched her face.
‘You okay?’ he asked, his tone calm but his demeanour showing he was raging on the inside.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, and dropped a kiss onto his lips. His face broke into a huge grin, and the two stood there, looking at each other intently as the staff were carting Mr Atwood to the door, still bent on his knees, crying in pain.
Paul shouted to him from behind the bar.
‘You weren’t kidding about your girl, Tucker!’
He wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled into him.
‘You should see what she can do with a weapon, mate. We’re off.’
Paul gave him a salute and got back to work, and they headed to the exit.
‘Thanks for letting me deal with that, Tucker.’
He led her outside, and to the car park, stopping by her car.
‘You okay to drive?’
She nodded. ‘Where are we going?’
He looked a little blindsided by the question.
‘I, er, figured we’d be going to yours after that. Don’t you need to call some people?’
She suddenly thought of Michael Attwood’s wife, and her boss at the firm.
‘You’re right,’ she said reluctantly. The truth was, after that kiss, all thought of work was lost.
One of the waitresses ran out to them, a huge picnic basket in hand.
‘Here, Tucker, we put this together for you.’ She was only a young lass, eighteen if that, with a bright pink streak in her blonde hair. Tucker took the basket from her, his eyebrows raising when he looked at the contents. The girl hugged Cassie fiercely.
‘Michael’s been coming here for years. With his wife. You did us all a favour. Enjoy your date!’
Tucker waved her goodbye and tucked the hamper into the boot of her car.
When he looked at her, she was watching him.
‘What?’
‘Thank you for letting me deal with that on my own, and not stepping in.’
‘I think I get the measure of you now, Cass. You don’t have to thank me. You just have to let me in.’ He went and opened her car door for her, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes and went to get in, but he pinned her in the open space.
‘I will open car doors for you, Cassie, and I will always protect you, but I get that you don’t need me to. You’ve never relied on anyone for anything, and I get that. I’m here, though, and I’m not going away. Not unless you ask me to.’ He leant on the car door with his right arm, leaning in and brushing his lips against hers. ‘Are you going to ask me to, or are you actually going to give me a chance? Give us a chance at being together? Equal partners?’
He kissed her again, and she didn’t protest. She kissed him back, enjoying the feel of his lips.
‘That a yes?’ he asked. ‘You going to let me date you, and be there for you? Be there for each other?’
She covered his hand with hers, over the car door, and he nuzzled his stubble against her neck.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s try.’