So Now You're Back (34 page)

She placed her hand on his leg, stroked the rigid muscles, the urge to comfort quick and instinctive. ‘It's not selfish to want her suffering to stop.'

He drew absent circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. ‘It would be nice if that was the reason. But it's not. I wanted her to die so I could be free of her.'

Lizzie touched his cheek and waited for his gaze to meet hers.

She couldn't take the grief away; she knew that. But she wanted to say something. Something that would comfort him. And make him realise he had nothing to feel guilty about.

‘We all say stupid things we don't mean to people we love. I bet I've said a lot more shitty things to my mum than you ever said to yours.'

A crooked smile crossed his lips and lifted some of the sadness. ‘I think you're probably right about that.'

‘I know I am,' she continued, heartened by his reaction. ‘And you don't even want to know how many times I've wanted to kill Aldo.'

‘Yes, but it's not as if you actually wanted him to die,' he countered.

‘Actually, I did, especially when he got poster paint on my new Herschel backpack,' she continued, glad when his lips twitched. ‘So, basically, if you're a selfish bastard, I must be a complete heinous bitch.'

‘Don't say that. You're not a bitch. You're smart and incredibly pretty and you're fun to be around.' The words spilled out with such honest conviction, she thought her heart would burst it was beating so hard. ‘I love hanging out with you. You make me feel normal.'

Sympathy and tenderness thudded against her ribcage. ‘Then you have to believe me when I say, you're all that stuff and a lot more. No way are you a selfish bastard, Trey. Because I used to go out with a real selfish bastard and I'm now an expert at spotting the difference.'

‘You think I'm incredibly pretty?' he said.

‘I think you're gorgeous, right down to that low-rent tattoo on your arse.'

‘It's not on my arse,' he corrected. ‘It's on the base of my spine.'

‘Did you have to drop your pants to get it done?'

The smile twitched. ‘Maybe.'

‘Then it's on your arse, mate.'

He chuckled, then tilted his head to rest his forehead against hers. His thumbs caressed her neck. ‘I want to kiss you so bad right now.'

‘Then do.'

He shook his head. ‘I can't. It would be taking advantage of you.'

She framed his face with her hands, drew his mouth to hers. ‘Then I guess I'll have to take advantage of you.'

She teased his lips, tasting the sadness, and the desperation,
beneath the heat. His tongue met hers, their mutual hunger driving a connection that felt real and solid and significant as they sank into the kiss.

His breathing had become slow and sluggish when they finally parted.

‘I'm shattered,' he said. ‘But I don't want to be alone.'

‘Then stay here. And I'll stay with you.'

He settled his long body on the sofa, and she tucked one of the throw pillows under his head. But when she tried to rise, he caught her wrist. ‘Could I hold you? I won't try anything, I promise.'

She'd have loved him to try something. But that really would be taking advantage of him. So she nodded and lifted his arm, snuggling under it. He shifted onto his side, to give her more space, as they cuddled together. Her head nestled on his collarbone, his arms secure around her back.

She could feel the steady pump of his heart next to her ear as his breathing evened out. She inhaled the teasing scent of soap and laundry detergent, and the slightly sickly scent of flowers and air freshener, the smell of death that still clung to him.

But as she snuggled against him, she knew she'd never felt more safe, or more alive, in her whole life.

‘I
'm still not sure about this, Luke. Seeing you and me together is going to be enough of a shock for Lizzie without us turning up two days early.'

Luke hauled their suitcases out of the back of the cab and handed the driver a ten-quid tip. Halle stood on the pavement, chewing her bottom lip.

Even jet-lagged and tired and extremely stressed, she looked adorable. Adorable enough to have him clamping down on his frustration. Again.

‘We agreed we needed to come here and tell Lizzie what's been going on together.' He was holding firm on that no matter how many times he had to talk her down off the ledge. ‘The good news is at least your house hasn't burned to the ground,' he said, struggling to lighten the mood.

The huge Georgian pile, five storeys of ornate white plaster, looked impressive even for Notting Hill. But he refused to be intimidated by it. After eight hours on the red-eye and having to route through Chicago to get here, he was more than keyed up enough already. The thought of seeing Lizzie and meeting Halle's son, Aldo, for the first time was
nerve-racking enough without him letting Halle's nerves get to him, too.

They'd spent the past thirty-two hours on a nightmare journey from the resort with Halle insisting on discussing every nuance of this meeting in exhaustive detail. All the things he could say, and all the things he couldn't. And he'd tried really hard not to take her doubts personally.

Whatever way you looked at it, this was a huge step, in all their lives. A huge step that he really didn't want to fuck up. Because he'd come to a few momentous decisions himself—ever since she'd sprung her surprise departure plan on him. And the vague feeling of melancholy that had been bothering him ever since he had woken up to find her gone had turned into a gaping wound right in the middle of his chest.

He'd convinced himself a long time ago he wasn't into relationships. That being Lizzie's dad was the only emotional connection he was capable of. But he'd known in that moment it wasn't true, or not true any more, because the thought of Halle leaving that evening without him had sent him into a tailspin of stunned horror.

He'd finally been forced to acknowledge that despite all the challenges, despite all the tough conversations, the rows and recriminations—and even that whiplash-inducing crack on the cheek—being with her had made him feel more alive, more connected than he had since he'd run away.

She'd challenged him and excited him, frustrated him and driven him mad with lust, but most of all she'd made him realise all the things that had been missing in his life since he'd lost her.

Consequently, he'd spent the whole of the damn red-eye wide awake, considering what his life could be like with Halle back in it. Not just as the mother of his child. Not just as a friend or a fuck buddy. But as more than that.

And the more he'd thought about it, the more he'd realised how important it was not to bugger up this next step. His growing realisation that Halle seemed convinced he was going to do exactly that wasn't doing much to bolster his confidence.

‘What are you so scared of, Hal?'

She stared at him blankly, and he wondered if she was going to deny it. But then she sighed. ‘Listen, Luke, are you sure this is such a good idea? Springing this on Lizzie? She'll still be in bed. Why don't I have a quick chat with her when she wakes up? Just to smooth things over, prepare her. And then, if everything's OK, I can give you a call and we could come and meet you somewhere. Later.'

He bit down on the new surge of frustration. And the spike of fear. Was this really about Lizzie? Or was she just trying to get rid of him?

‘I live in Paris, where exactly am I supposed to be while you're preparing her to see me?' he said, not managing to keep the edge out of his voice.

‘I could book you a hotel suite,' she said, far too helpfully for her not to have planned the suggestion ahead of time.

‘That's not the point and you know it,' he said, his temper snapping. ‘We had an agreement. If you want to back out of it, I want to know why.'

‘Could you keep your voice down?' She glanced at the house.

OK, that did it.

He grasped her arm, and her gaze shot back to his. ‘Halle, what's really going on here?'

Had he been totally kidding himself? He needed to know if he had any chance with her, before he risked letting her see how much this meant to him, because apparently there was
still enough of that screwed-up kid inside him to be scared to death he'd already buggered this up without intending to.

‘What's really going on is …' Halle tugged her arm out of his grasp. ‘She's not my only child.'

‘Huh?'

‘I don't want you to meet Aldo. Not like this.'

‘Why the hell not?'

‘He wants a father, Luke, desperately.' She struggled to explain. ‘Whenever Lizzie was in Paris with you, he would ask about you incessantly. Does Lizzie's daddy play football? What kind of car does Lizzie's daddy drive? He's always wanted to meet you. But he's never had to see you with Lizzie. He's never had to have his face rubbed in the fact that you're her father and not his. It's going to be agonising for him, seeing you two together and knowing he doesn't have what Lizzie has.'

Instead of looking irritated or defensive, as she would have expected, Luke laughed. He grasped her upper arms, the look on his face a picture of relief. ‘Seriously, Halle, is that all?'

‘What do you mean,
is that all?
It's a huge deal for him, he's only ten and—'

‘And I'm not Claudio,' he interrupted. ‘Don't you think I want to meet him, too? I know it's not going to be easy. That we'll have to get to know each other first. And you're right, I'm not his dad. But I would never try to make him feel less because he's not my kid. And the very last thing I would want to do is hurt him.'

‘I know that, but—'

‘You know what your problem is?' Luke interrupted again.

‘No, do tell me,' she said, not making any effort to hide
her irritation with his casual attitude. This was not a joke. She'd been agonising over this for hours—ever since she'd been manoeuvred into agreeing to this meeting.

And OK, maybe it wasn't all about Aldo. Maybe she was ever so slightly terrified at the prospect of seeing Luke bonding with Lizzie and Aldo, and letting those unrealistic expectations that had been dogging her all through the journey home sprint right out of control.

‘You need to know you can't control everything,' he said.

‘I know that,' she snapped. ‘I wouldn't have had to spend two weeks in Tennessee with you if I could.'

‘And that didn't turn out so bad, now did it?' He gave her a gentle shake, the approval in his eyes, with that flicker of heat that was never far behind, making her insides churn and melt at the same time. Which was not good.

You see, this is exactly why you need to be establishing distance, and not playing happy families.

‘What's your point?' she added, feeling her control, the control she'd worked so hard to build after Luke had left, slipping through her fingers.

‘That sometimes you have to trust in people,' he said. ‘And, more important, you have to trust in yourself. You're a terrific mum, but you can't fix everything. Life is like baking. It's not a precise science. Sometimes you don't prove the dough quite long enough the second time around and your fancy European novelty bread doesn't turn out how you planned. But it could still be edible. In fact, it might even be better that way.'

‘Luke, don't try baking analogies with a master baker.'

He laughed. ‘I'm right, though, aren't I?'

A tiny bubble of hope penetrated the panic at the calm assurance in his gaze. What if they could make this work?
What if her expectations weren't completely unrealistic, after all?

‘You're going to have to trust Aldo and me to figure our relationship out for ourselves,' he said. ‘But just to put your fears to rest, I can promise you this much—whatever happens this morning, I'll do my utmost to make sure Aldo doesn't get hurt. Lizzie means everything to me. And you mean quite a lot to me, too.'

Do I?
The heart bumps rose into her throat.

‘And he's her brother, and your son,' he added. ‘So even though I've never met him, he already means something to me.'

‘You're sure?' she asked, the bubble expanding uncomfortably.
Please don't say that unless you mean it.

‘I'm sure,' he said. ‘Trust me.'

The knot of panic finally let go of her oesophagus. ‘OK.'

As tough as it was, she was going to
have
to trust him. And herself. Because he was right about one thing. Ever since he'd left, she'd tried to control every single thing. And if this trip had taught her one thing—apart from the fact that Luke Best's smile could still make her go weak at the knees—it was that being in control didn't necessarily stop bad things from happening. And trying to control this might actually stop something amazing from happening.

He lifted her suitcase, as well as his own. ‘Now, can we take this inside? I want to make a good impression and I work better with caffeine. Especially after eight hours on a plane while I'm still on Tennessee time.'

It occurred to her, as she reached into her bag to find the keys, that however nervous she was, he was probably more so.

And that this was the first day of the rest of her life.

So, no pressure, then.

Five minutes earlier

Lizzie's eyelids fluttered and then snapped open. Her mind registered the sonorous hum wasn't just coming from Trey's measured breathing against her ear, but from the sound of a car driving away on the street outside.

She snuggled against Trey to hide from the light penetrating the shutters. And smiled.

They'd spent the whole night together. Fully clothed, cuddling on the sofa. Was there anything more romantic?

He'd jerked awake a couple times, she guessed dreaming about his mum, or her death. Both times she'd lulled him back to sleep. Glad that she could help, and gladder still that he wanted her to.

But as her cheek brushed the solid wall of his chest, she realised she wasn't feeling glad now so much as very, very curious. Because this situation wasn't just romantic any more, it was also kind of hot.

She slid her hand under his T-shirt to rest against his belly. And took a few stolen moments to explore the soft line of hair that trailed under his belly button and had fascinated her for over a week. Getting bolder, she inched her fingertips under the loose waistband of his jeans, the definite bulge beneath fascinating her. And exciting her.

Wouldn't it be wonderful to do something with that morning erection? She wondered how many girlfriends he'd had. He certainly couldn't have had tons if his mum had been sick since he was a kid. She couldn't think of anything more erotic than getting the chance to seduce him. And maybe then he could seduce her back. She'd never even had an orgasm with Liam. It had always been over too fast, because Liam had about as much interest in foreplay as he
did in having root canal treatment. Trey would be much more considerate.

His erection certainly didn't repulse her, or bore her the way Liam's often had.

She was so busy imagining how much she would enjoy exploring it more, that she jumped when his large hand covered hers.

‘Morning, Lizzie.'

She lifted her head, to find his chocolate eyes watching her. ‘Hi. You're awake. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to …'

‘Don't be.' He sent her a shy, sexy smile, his hair flattened on one side, but still gorgeous.

He looked half asleep, his pupils dilated, his lids at half mast. He didn't move her hand, but he let it go to sweep her hair up on either side of her head.

Her pulse pounded in her ears at the tender affection, the sleepy invitation in those heavy-lidded eyes. Easing her exploring fingertips further into his pants, she stretched up to press her lips to his, the thrill rushing through her.

The kiss became fervent, seeking. She flattened her palm against the warm firm flesh of his belly and thrust her hungry tongue into his mouth.

The click of a lock, the muffled buzz of voices and footsteps seemed to be part of a dream, barely registering over the hot rush of blood to her head. And the beautiful strength of Trey's fingers in her hair.

‘Lizzie? Trey?' Her mother's shocked voice pierced through the fog of arousal.

‘Who the hell is that?' The harsh male shout yanked her the rest of the way out of the erotic dream. And into a nightmare.

Trey's head snapped back as large hands grabbed the front of his shirt.

‘Get the fuck off my daughter.'

Lizzie tumbled backwards off the sofa, her back hitting the floor as Trey was yanked out of her arms. Her mind crashed into complete consciousness as she watched her dad, his face tight with fury, haul Trey up by his shirt front.

Lizzie scrambled up. Her limbs clumsy with shock. ‘Stop it … Don't …' she cried on a whimper of breath, her lungs paralysed with horror.

Trey shook his head, obviously confused. ‘No, wait …' He raised his hands in defence as her dad's arm drew back, his fist bunched.

‘Luke, don't!' her mum yelled behind her. Too late.

Her dad's fist connected with Trey's jaw, the sickening thud reverberating through her as Trey's head rocked back and he crashed to the floor.

‘Dad!' she screamed.

‘You hit Trey. I hate you!' Aldo raced into the room and launched himself at her dad, kicking him and shouting.

Lizzie rushed to kneel next to Trey.

He held his jaw, blood seeping from his mouth, his expression one of shock and pain and guilt. ‘I'm sorry, Lizzie. I'm so sorry.'