Sexy Love (Sexy Series Book 4) (28 page)

One of the songs I listened to has remained in my head and been on a mental repeat since about the third hour of the ten and a half hour trip. It’s a Katie Melua track, instantly triggering reminders of the night in Seb’s apartment when he cooked for me. We listened to reggae, he was surprised and mentioned he was expecting to play something along these lines instead.

Little did I know at the time, one of Melua’s songs would ring so true to me at some point,
because
of Sebastian. ‘The Closest Thing to Crazy’; and I really have been, of late. Contradictions, inconsistency, one feeling the complete antithesis of another – it’s everything that my head has had to learn to put up with. Being close to craziness, as the song says, is so finely linked to being close to Sebastian.

Surprisingly, the song makes me feel comforted that somebody else has known the feeling with intensity enough - to put together such harmonising lyrics. I’m not the only one, and I’m not completely insane to have let a man mess with my stability. He’ll be the only one; I have learnt a very precious lesson.

~~~~~~~

Landing was smooth and as soon as I stepped from the aircraft onto the jet bridge, I could smell London. It has a unique scent that I haven’t noticed anywhere else before, and I love it.

I’m so excited to be here and I know that I’m going to enjoy myself, especially now that my mood has shifted dramatically. I’m so looking forward to arriving at Clare and Oliver’s home.

The car delivers me at the front door at around six thirty and Clare opens it immediately, welcoming me inside whilst stroking her beautifully blossoming belly. I’m thrilled to see that Bea and Daniel are here, too.

“Oh my goodness, Alexia, it’s so lovely to see you!” Clare cries as she wraps her arms around me, having closed the front door. She’s standing bare feet on her thick cream carpet with a long, cotton dress draping around her ankles.

Her full stomach presses into me as she hugs and I pull back a little, fearful of squashing her precious babies. She releases me to replace her hands on her bump, stroking it subconsciously.

“It’s so wonderful to be here and see you, too. Thank you so much for inviting me.” I step towards Oliver and hug him, too. “Oliver, you’re looking great, how are you feeling?”

“I’m really good, thank you. How was the flight?”

He steps back and I respond as I hug both Bea and my brother. “It was fine; quite relaxing actually. Hey Bea, hi Daniel.”

“I find the flight quite relaxing sometimes, too. It can be monotonous and don’t even get me started on turbulence, but once we’ve taken off, if everything is smooth, flying through the night can be quite calm, I think.” Bea says in agreement, clearly managing her fears well.

“You have changed your tune, Bea, haven’t you?” Clare giggles before suggesting we leave my bags in the hallway and sit down with a cup of tea.

We enjoy a wonderful and distracting reunion in the cosy living room, drinking tea and snacking on cake from the famous Cakery just around the corner. Daniel and Bea leave at around eight thirty, and Clare and Oliver invite me through to the kitchen where we eat a light, informal dinner.

It’s calm, quiet and soothing after a long day of travelling and analysing. They have all been so thoughtful and accommodating to ensure I feel comfortable because they know I’ll be tired.

I head up to one of the spare rooms after dinner to unpack my belongings and take a long, unwinding shower before opening the window and slipping into the crisp white sheets. The cool English breeze washing over my face welcomingly sweeps me into a heavy, consuming slumber.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

SATURDAY 25
TH
APRIL

I feel as if I could have been asleep for days when I wake to birds singing beautifully in the tree outside my bedroom window.

The breeze is cool – cold, even, but wonderfully refreshing. I pull the covers up to my chin and wriggle inside the warm cocoon.

I have no idea of the time, but it’s a beautiful morning here with the sun glowing through the leaves of the tree onto the end of the bed. I can’t imagine it’s later than about seven.

Immediately, I think of Sebastian, thinking about how much I would enjoy sharing this with him, prior to the silent treatment. But of course, the silent treatment has ended now and he’s suddenly on the scene again. It doesn’t mean I’m likely to share anything with him again, but at least
he
wants to.

I take a long, satisfying breath in and release it slowly, turning onto my side to find my cell phone on the side table. I’m not sure quite why I left it there, it’s not like I needed my alarm, but I suppose it’s just habit of late.

There are a few notifications on there – emails from work and such, but when I open the text messaging app to see who the new message is from, I try to suppress the excited gallop my stomach performs, purely because I should
not
be feeling that way about the guy who turned my world upside down, out of the blue like that.

~

LOVE, SEBASTIAN

iMessage

Today 8:07

Lexie, good morning, I hope your flight was enjoyable and you arrived in London comfortably. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Are you enjoying the beautiful English spring sunshine?  It’s warmer than usual, I’m sure of it. S xxx

~

Well what a confusing message. Firstly, it can’t really be past eight in the morning, can it? I look up on the screen at the time and am thoroughly shocked to note that I slept until a quarter past ten! How embarrassing.

I sit up in the bed quickly, preparing myself to get ready once I’ve dissected this message. And so back to that - he hasn’t stopped thinking about me?
Well what about the past three weeks when you didn’t think to even respond a simple message, fuckhead?
It doesn’t wash with me. You either want me or you don’t.

My immediate reaction to his next comment about the weather is to wonder how he knows what on earth it’s like. I know he has returned from wherever he had been travelling to because his text last night in LA told me so, and he asked me out, too, which he couldn’t do if he had still been in London, if that’s even where he was.

Maybe he knows because he had literally just returned from London, which seems a lot more likely than anything else. He could have looked it up but I don’t think he’d have any reason to do that, unless he’s chosen to become a stalker-type.

Do I ignore him, or do I respond? If I couldn’t care less and wanted to get him back for his abysmal behaviour towards me, I’d simply ignore him, but deep down, I don’t want to. I want to talk to him, I want to find out what his problem is, I don’t want to play games because it comes so unnaturally to me, to do so.

So… I’ll reply, I guess.

~

Today 10:37

Good morning, Sebastian, England is lovely, thank you and my arrival was safe. I’m glad to be amongst good friends. I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about me; maybe you could take a trip away again because that seems to clear your mind of such things. Enjoy your day.

Delivered

~

Ha, take that, dipshit.
Oh good Lord, I really did just call somebody ‘dipshit’.

I climb out of bed and put it back together swiftly before hopping in the shower and getting myself ready, quickly. Heaven knows what Oliver and Clare will think of me sleeping so late.

I make my way down the stairs within about half an hour having checked my cell for a response, which I didn’t get. I mentally hi-five myself for my witty response earlier, I’m winning.

“Alexia! Good morning, how did you sleep?” Clare asks from the kitchen as I take the last step into the downstairs hallway. I look left and see her pottering about preparing things in the beautiful hub of their home.

She looks so fresh and pretty with her hair in its signature blonde sixties style ponytail and her bump poking out in front of her in harem pants and a full coverage tank top. Her feet are again bare, and she looks so comfortably at home like she’s lived here her entire life.

“Oh Clare, I’m so sorry I slept in, I had no idea it was so late!”

“Don’t be silly! You needed to sleep; you had such a long journey all through the night, when you would have been sleeping. Make yourself comfortable,” she says, pointing with a wooden spoon to the chairs around the kitchen island, “I’ll make coffee. Would you like something to eat?”

“Don’t put yourself out, I can make coffee.”

“No, no – Oliver will want one, too. I’m expecting him home any minute, he’s only working for a couple of hours today. Is there anything you’d like to do?”

“I’m happy to keep myself busy, Clare, I really don’t want to put anybody out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I want to see you! We both do. Would you like to stay in, go our for the day – shopping or sightseeing?”

“If you think for one moment I’m going to make a heavily pregnant –
with twins
– woman, traipse around the shops, you have another thing coming, lady. I’m happy to just potter, I have no need for anything except to go with the flow of your lives. I’ll go into work with Daniel a couple of times but other than that – I have no specific needs.”

“Okay,” she says, slipping on a huge mitt and taking something from the oven. It smells delicious. “Well if you think of anything, let me know. I may be prego but I’m totally mobile. I’m huge but I’m feeling fantastic.”

“That’s great Clare, I’m so happy everything is going so well for your pregnancy, I can’t imagine how much strain something like that puts on your body.”

“You just get used to it as you grow, it’s not bad. I’d do it again, though having said that – I haven’t given birth yet!”

“Ouch, I don’t even want to know how that feels. It smells so good in here – what are you making?”

“I’m just making a few batches of cakes for one of the care homes down the road, one of the girls had a relative there so we used to bake for them during quiet periods at the Cakery - but those are few and far between these days, so I tend to take the pressure off them when I’m home and do it myself. It’s therapeutic.”

“Can I help?” I ask, standing to observe, wondering just how selfless a person can be.

“Really? Would you like to?”

“Yes! I would love to!”

She looks me up and down and pouts. “Hmm. You wanna change first, maybe?”

I look down at my body in question. “No, why?”

“You’re wearing such nice clothes, you don’t want to get them dirty.”

I hadn’t considered my outfit to be anything other than casual. “No, I’m fine, if I get dirty, I’ll change.”

“Okay, there’s a pinny on the back of the door, slip that on and we’ll have some fun!”

With the countertops covered in racks of pretty individual sponge cakes, we sit back with a cool glass of lemonade and smile at our handy work. I’m surprised by how much I enjoyed something so creative.

“I think I’ll have to get you to leave HB and come to work in the Cakery, I’m impressed!” Clare says, she’s most likely just humouring me but she’s sweet.

I laugh. “I think you could do better than me, but thanks. I had great fun!”

We talked throughout about many things, including the Sebastian situation which started out a little uncomfortable, but once I got going, I became a lot more relaxed at the words started to flow truly and freely. I’m glad to have someone far away that I can talk to like this, it makes it feel less… less real somehow. She’s not going to bump into him so I feel less guilty about discussing our personal affairs.

The doorbell rings as we laugh about the first cake that I filled and immediately dropped on the floor. She stands to answer it and I can’t help but notice her casual movement as if people turn up at her house unannounced all of the time. That’s almost unheard of for me.

I stand to begin boxing up some the delicious looking treats and I hear Bea’s voice from down the hallway. I’ll finish up here while they talk and then I’ll go down to say hello. Maybe she can spare the time for us to go out for lunch or something.

I can’t hear words, but Daniel’s voice comes into range, and then Oliver! They’re all here! I smile, looking forward to another gathering and continue to work in the kitchen until the voices approach the doorway, and I wipe my hands on my apron as I turn to greet them.

“Hey Bea, how…” I stop dead in my tracks.

“Look who we found wandering the streets of London,” Daniel says jovially, slapping Sebastian Love on the back.
Sebastian Fucking Love.
And he’s smiling at me nervously, looking absolutely irresistible in his uniform. I want to run to him with my arms open and squeeze him like a big, strong tattooed… orange. Or whatever.

His crisp white shirt skims his large torso with perfection and the aviator sunglasses on his head really enhance that sexy, bad-boy pilot look that I had never found so arousing until I met this man. His four-stripe epaulets need my fingers on them, like – now.

“Seb…Sebastian. What are you doing here?” I stutter, my shock clearly evident.

“We got a last minute flight request to London – I thought I’d take it. I have a little while here so thought I’d call on some of my buddies. It’s so great to see you.” He says, walking through the kitchen to where I stand, rigidly.

He slips a strong hand around my waist and bends to kiss my cheek. His smell, his proximity… I wish I could wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in his neck. I need him, more than anything.

I realise we have an audience, most of whom have no idea there has been any kind of issue between the two of us, so I clear my throat and snap out of it immediately. “You, too. Isn’t that a coincidence! Well, I do hope you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“Oh I will.”

“Suits you, Lex,” Bea says from the entrance to the kitchen, and I struggle but succeed to switch my attention.

“Hmm? What does?”

“The apron, boxing up cakes; you feeling a bit creative?”

“I know! It’s been so much fun making these cakes with Clare, I’ve really enjoyed myself. Mine probably look like a five year old made them, but I enjoyed myself anyway.”

“Bollocks!” Clare cries. “Yours are brill, you’re a natural.”

“You’re sweet, thank you.”

“’Cos it’s true.” She shrugs and budges her way through the group in the doorway to begin stacking the boxes. “So, shall we all go out for lunch somewhere? It’s lush out there, the sun is shining and calling us to sit outside a pub somewhere.”

“Sounds great,” Oliver responds, “Seb can you join us?”

Say yes, please say yes… NO! No. Say no, I shouldn’t want this!

“Sure, thank you.” He looks down at me as the others in the room start discussing possible options. “Is that okay with you?” he whispers.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes. I will leave right now if you ask me to.”

“It’d be a bit difficult to do that now, wouldn’t it?” I don’t want him to know that he’s welcome around me, but he so definitely is. I’d rather have a chance to talk with him alone, though, before we start socialising together with friends, again.

“We’re going to take you to a nice pub over in Harefield, it’s about a fifteen minute drive, is that okay with you?” Oliver asks.

“Fine by me, Lex?”

“Oh, yes – whatever you think is best.”

~~~~~~~

I really can’t believe I’m sitting in the back seat of Oliver’s multi-person vehicle on the way home from a delicious lunch in a beautiful pub - with Sebastian. I realise now how he knew what the weather was like. He must have texted me the minute he finished taxiing. I should have known.

It’s almost four in the afternoon and we’re pulling up onto the driveway of the house with full stomachs after a pleasant, if not a little privately awkward afternoon looking over beautiful views of miles of greenery and lakes. It was a perfect setting for a lunch on a day as beautiful as this; it’s just a shame I felt a little pent up for the duration of it.

Clare and Oliver advised me that they have to ‘shoot off’ to a regular appointment at their birthing unit to check on the babies immediately after they drop me back at the house, which is fine by me. I’m not sure what Sebastian is planning, because I’m pretty sure he won’t be welcome to join them at the hospital, and he shouldn’t feel comfortable with the thought that I’ll want to spend time with him. Even if I secretly do…

Clare lets me in before dashing up the stairs as quickly as someone with a rocket up their ass and comes straight back down a little more cautiously, with a clear plastic folder tucked under her arm. “Pregnancy records,” she pants, pointing to the folder, and rushes out of the house. “I’ll see you a bit later, you’ll be okay?”