Making Love (Destiny Book 1) (13 page)

It wasn’t exactly the romantic proposal I’d been hoping for when someone asked me to move in, and my lack of enthusiasm must have shown.

“Okay, I know that was a little graceless for a living together proposal and I promise that when I propose marriage, I’ll go all out-”

Whoa! Marriage? How had we gone from living together to marriage? I wasn’t ready for that!

“-but we’ve practically been living together while we were away anyway,” he blithely carried on, unaware of my inner monologue. “And I don’t know about you, but I’ve enjoyed it.”

I didn’t reply and Will stopped his packing and lay down beside me on the bed.

“That was tactless, I’m sorry.” He dug around in the covers until he found my hand, then entwined our fingers.

“Have you been thinking about it then?” I wanted to know.

“Not specifically, it just seemed to make sense and I said it without thinking it through, but I’ve enjoyed having you around. I don’t think we cramp each other’s style too much, do you?”

We didn’t. We spent a lot of our free time together, but I’d also gone out with the girls a couple of times, and he with the guys. I don’t think either of us felt put out to be left for a night, and he didn’t object to me wanting to come back to the UK a little early either.

But moving in together was a real commitment. Were we ready for that?

“Just think about it,” Will urged, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. “We can put a second desk in the sunroom, like his and her’s, facing each other, and I do live pretty conveniently, central and near the tube lines. And I’m open to extortion offers too, such as making you breakfast every day.”

“I don’t feel very well fed this morning,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Aah, that’s because you haven’t agreed to move in yet. Yesterday was temptation and no more until you agree to live in sin with me.”

I didn’t know how to reply to that.

“You’re not refusing for religious reasons, are you?” he suddenly asked, looking worried.

“Will, if you have to ask that, maybe it’s a sign we don’t know each other well enough to do this yet.”

“You have no religion as far as I know, but you also look as if I’d suggested taking a swim with hungry piranhas, so I’m just trying to work out what has you so upset.”

“I’m not upset, just… cautious.”

“Caution is good, but we’re good together, and you know it.”

“We are,” I agreed.

Things were a little stilted after that but I did my best to give him a good send off, before preparing to go home.

Still wearing his dressing gown, I wandered around his house, imagining what it would be like to call this my home.

If I’m honest with myself, and I always try to be, my biggest worry was that Will’s life would eclipse mine. His life was just so huge and jet-set. Not all the time, and the man himself certainly wasn’t a pretentious type, but his job and everything that went with it, was so much larger than me.

Would my career taper off, dying in the shadow of his? It wasn’t impossible to work while we travelled, but it did make my life more difficult. For example, I hadn’t checked anything but my personal email (something I’d had to get because I was receiving too much Will-related spam on my work one) for almost a week now.

How much work had I missed out on by not checking it?

He hadn’t mentioned moving in with me, and I supposed I could see why, his place was far bigger, more private and he had a garden, but he hadn’t even considered my apartment.

What about my friendships and relationships? It was hard to keep in contact only over the internet and text. Not impossible, but what if I was away for something stupid, like nine months of the year or something? Given Will’s career, that wasn’t out of the question.

And would he always expect me to follow him around the world? Would the rest of my life be spent following Will while he pursued his dreams? What room did that leave for my dreams? And what about a family?

I hadn’t allowed myself to think about that last option yet because I wasn’t ready for children but if it did happen, would I be a single mother in all but name, communicating with Will via Skype? Would our kids know Will more from his movies than in person?

These were all events that were way in the future but would happen one day, and we hadn’t discussed any of this stuff yet.

Feeling rather depressed, I packed up my things and returned home, where I could continue brooding among my home comforts.

After a few days to settle in, I got the number from Hannah and phoned my father. The conversation was stilted but we arranged to meet on Friday, at a coffee shop in central London.

I was nervous and stopped in to a paper shop for some mints on my way, which was when I saw the headline on Hot Magazine.

‘The Bedroom Secrets of Will Braxton’s New Love’ it proclaimed.

What the hell? How did they know my bedroom secrets?

I bought a copy, thankful that my picture wasn’t on the front, then I rolled it up and shoved it into the depths of my bag.

My Dad was waiting when I arrived and despite not having seen him for seven years, since Hannah’s wedding, I recognised him immediately, and he stood up and greeted me with a kiss on my cheek. We chatted about nothing much for a while, until I asked what I really needed to know.

“So, what brought on this burst of paternal affection?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess when Mary showed me your picture, it just… made me miss you. Want to reach out to you. I hope it’s not too late.”

“Who’s Mary?”

“My wife,” he smiled. “You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

“I don’t think so, unless you brought her to Hannah’s wedding.”

“No, we met after that.”

“Then I can't have met her.”

“I haven’t seen you since then? Really?”

Obviously I wasn’t memorable enough for him to pay much mind to our last meeting. Still, he must have a picture or two of me around for his perfect stranger of a wife to have recognised me.

“Well, you must, she’s lovely. Maybe we could both go out as couples, what do they call it, double dating?”

“Something like that.” My heart was sinking at the mention of Will and double dating so soon.

“So, how long have you and Will been seeing each other?”

“Didn’t Mary tell you?”

He blushed. “I don’t put much stock in those rags.”

“Since about January,” I admitted.

“And it’s going well, is it? Hannah said you were travelling with his movie.”

“It’s early days but yeah, it’s going well. He’s asked me to move in, actually.”

I don’t know why I said it, or what made me say it. I suppose it had been at the forefront of my mind since Will had mentioned it.

Dad’s face lit up. “That’s great news, sweetie. You must really like him.”

I considered telling him that I hadn’t given my answer, but I didn’t.

“When is he back?” Dad asked.

“Oh,” I had to stop and think for a moment. “About two weeks. Why?”

“Just thinking of when we can all get together, that’s all.”

“I can meet Mary any time,” I bristled slightly, as I was getting the impression that I alone wasn’t good enough.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I just didn’t want you to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m a big girl now, Dad, I have a mortgage and everything. I think I can handle dinner with my step mum.”

“Of course you can, I didn’t mean…” he sighed. “I’m making a right balls up of this, aren’t I?”

He sounded so genuine that I felt bad for assuming the worst.

“You can't just get to know someone overnight,” I said kindly. “It’ll take time.”

He smiled. “You’re right, sorry.” He sipped his coffee. “So, Hannah tells me you’re a freelance illustrator now?”

So I told him all about my jobs and what it entailed. He listened attentively, like a good parent should, better than my mother usually, and I tried to forget my earlier disquiet. Even if he was star struck, that didn’t mean he had an ulterior motive.

***

We kept the meeting short, about an hour, and as soon as I got home, I opened the gossip rag I’d bought earlier.

It was Toby Stephens, a boy I’d dated during my A’Levels. We’d kissed but he’d never even seen my bedroom, let alone be able to tell its secrets. Most of the article was lies or bluster, and I was able to laugh my way through it, even taking a picture of some choice quotes and sending them to Laurie, who had also known Toby.

According to him, I had a voracious sexual appetite (I did for Will, but I never had with Toby) and my bedroom was full of scented candles. My living room had been, because we had an ever present odd smell from the downstairs neighbour, but my bedroom was candle free.

He also said that I always wore black satin underwear, almost to the point of obsession, according to the article. Toby had only seen my underwear once and yes, it had been black that day. He’d never gotten more than a hand into my bra though. Three dates we lasted, four if you include the party we met at.

Laurie laughed with me about how stupid the whole thing was, which cheered me up. She was my friend and she knew the truth, which was all that really mattered. I didn’t care if the rest of the world thought I wore more black than your average Goth and kept more candles than a Catholic church.

The end of the article solicited anyone else who knew me to contact them, and I hunted the rest of the magazines to see their submitting guidelines. They paid £250 per story, apparently.

Well, if Toby needed 250 quid that badly, then who was I to begrudge him.

I briefly felt a pang of worry over the nude picture I’d sent to Pete all those years ago, but I’d dated him for over a year precisely because he wasn’t a dick, like Toby was, so I was hopeful Pete would keep them to himself, if he even still had them.

Will and I texted every day and managed to speak a couple of times a week, but I missed him. He didn’t ask about moving in together again, and I didn’t bring it up.

Life carried on as normal, until the publishers of the book I was illustrating emailed me, wanting me to do a promotional tour for the second book’s release (I hadn’t even finished the illustrations yet), and accompany the author on signings around the country, as well as doing press interviews with her, sometime in the New Year.

I couldn’t help but feel that I was only being asked because of who I was dating. For the first book, all they had asked me to do was a phone interview for an art centric radio program, and a two minute segment with local news, and I’d never been asked to do a tour before.

I wondered if this was to be my life now.

I was beginning to feel as if I was no longer Elle Greystone, I was now Will Braxton’s Girlfriend.

It wasn’t a nice feeling.

***

My father made a series of excuses as to why he and Mary couldn’t meet me over the next two weeks. Mary was babysitting for her daughter, or she had a book club that night, or he had to work late that day, and so on and so on.

So I set a date for after Will’s return and left it that I’d ask Will if he was free. I never confirmed whether Will would be coming or not. And he absolutely was not. If my dad wanted to spend time with me, then he would just have to make do with me only. If this was some kind of ruse, then I’d rather know sooner than later.

Will didn’t bring up moving in again until the day I was going to meet my Dad, a week after he got back.

“Have you given any more thought to moving in with me?” he asked casually, his back turned as if this wasn’t important to him. There was a slight catch in his voice however, that belied his calm façade.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” I admitted. “I haven’t reached any decisions though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Thank you, but no.”

He offered to come tonight but I had refused, even although he said he wanted to meet my father. For some reason, I couldn’t vocalise my fears to him, I hardly wanted to admit them to myself, so I assured him that he could come the next time we met.

He went home at about 3pm to give me time to get ready, and I met Dad and Mary at 7pm, at a French restaurant that frankly, was a little pretentious for my tastes.

As I was led into the back room of the restaurant, I spotted Dad immediately and both he and the woman with him were looking behind me. My heart sank.

“Is Will parking the car?” My dad asked as he kissed my cheek.

“He couldn’t make it,” I replied with a tight smile. “You must be Mary.” I held my hand out to the step-mother I never knew I had.

“Hi,” she smiled at me, then pulled me in for a hug. “It’s so great to finally meet you.”

She was a bottle blonde, short and plump but still glamorous, and only very, very slightly brassy. I instantly liked her because she seemed warm and bubbly. I hoped my first impressions were proved correct.

We sat down and ordered some wine, then my Dad asked what had held Will up.

“You haven’t even asked how I am,” I reminded him.

“Oh, forgive him, sweetie,” Mary said, patting my father’s arm. “Peter’s just a little star struck but he means no harm. It’s insensitive of us though, and I’m sorry about that.”

Now I
really
liked her. I felt as if she should have a Southern American accent or something, she was one of those women who was all sweetness and light, and hugs and puppies on the outside, but with a core of steel. I got the impression that she wore the pants in this relationship.

She might look like the polar opposite of my mother but they both ruled the roost, so maybe they had more in common than it appeared at first glance.

“So Pete tells me you’re an artist,” she opened the conversation, and we chatted quite happily, mainly just us girls, all though the main courses. She was Personal Assistant for the Managing Director of a Kia dealership, and Dad still worked as a car salesman, for the same dealership as Mary.

As we looked over the dessert menus, I could see them exchanging some pointed looks and Mary seemed to be silently goading him into saying something.

The waiter returned and we ordered dessert and coffee, then the conversation turned back to Will, starting with Mary complimenting me on my dress for the Blood Moon premiere. Then she wanted to know what he was like and in very general terms, I told her a little. I had to keep reminding myself that I actually didn’t know these people well at all and shouldn’t say too much, but Mary was just so easy to talk to.

Thankfully, she then steered the conversation towards my Dad and a new business idea he had. He wanted to start his own car dealership, selling used but high end cars, however raising the funds to get started was harder than he expected. Mary explained that it had been his dream for twenty years.

I wasn’t really into cars, I’d passed my test and was part of the car club, where you paid a monthly fee and could use one of their cars when necessary, but I hadn’t had my own car for over five years now, although I made the right noises.

“He’s got everything in place,” Mary told me, gazing proudly at my father. “He’s even got himself a credit licence, all he needs is another hundred grand in seed money and he’s good to go.”

“It must be hard with the banks not lending,” I agreed. “Have you tried re-mortgaging?”

“We don’t have a mortgage,” Dad admitted.

“He needs an investor,” Mary said. “A silent partner or something.”

“That would be nice,” I agreed.

“I don’t suppose you…”

I didn’t even hear the rest of her sentence, the sound of the penny dropping was too loud.