That One Moment (Lost in London #2) (24 page)

She laughs and swats me across the chest while mumbling something about me being a narcissist.

I grab her hand before she can move off of me and stare deeply into her eyes. “My list of favourite things about you grows every time I’m with you.”

Her head tilts to the side and she looks at me thoughtfully. “But what about your plant? And your dog?” Anxiety fleets over her face.

“Maybe I can just help you with yours.”

She smiles at that. A soft, sexy, secretive smile. The kind of smile where she’s not celebrating a win, but encouraging the removal of a loss. Her cheeks flush a rose hue that makes her look like she’s just returned from a jog. I can’t contain myself another second. I pull her lips to mine and push all of my feeling into this one simple act. All the feelings I’ve been hiding from the world. All the secrets. All the pain. All the loss…and I let it go.

And I realise with delirious happiness, that kissing Vi is different…Every. Single. Time.

FIRST DATE

T
ime ceases to exist with Hayden Clarke. I look at the calendar and can see that two weeks have passed since that day on the balcony when we agreed to be…well, something, as opposed to nothing. But each moment with him feels like nothing and everything at the same time. When Hayden left my flat that Sunday, there was a small part of me that feared, as soon as he walked out of my door, he’d change his mind about wanting to give us a try. It seemed like it was hard for him to leave, though. We ended up talking by my lift door for nearly an hour, like horny teenagers who couldn’t decide which one would say goodbye first on the phone.

“Are you close to your brothers?” he asked, his eyes scanning my neck as he dropped soft kisses on my shoulders in a way that made it difficult for me to form a coherent thought.

“You’re going to make me late for Sunday dinner at my dad’s with them if you don’t leave soon,” I chastised, grinning playfully while he held me in the foyer.

“I want to know. I have to know…before I go.” The lift door closed for the third time due to inactivity, and I sank into his embrace in silent surrender.

“Yes. Annoyingly so.”

“Still? Even after you’ve moved out?” His grey eyes watched me curiously.

I nodded, “Yes, well, like I said, I still see them every Sunday. Not to mention they like to pop over here whenever they feel like being little sods.”

He chuckled softly. “Do you have a favourite?”

I squinted as I considered his question. “Not really a favourite. Rather I appreciate them all for different reasons. I like Booker when I need someone to confide in. I like Cam and Tanner when I’m looking for a fun laugh, and I like Gareth when I need help.”

“What do you mean…help?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “He’s my big brother. He’s protective and I know he will do anything for me at any time. Last year I was in a crap situation with my ex, and while the way Gareth reacted was dangerous and could have ruined his career, it’s touching to know he’d risk anything for me like that.”

Hayden’s eyes hardened. “What happened?”

“Oh God, nothing all that original. Pierce was a guy I had been dating for a while and he started cheating on me. The affair was all over Chigwell because the woman was the wife of a famous footballer, and no, I will not tell you which one.”

“Wasn’t even going to ask,” he said, his eyes trained on me, silently urging me to continue.

His reaction gave me a secret thrill, knowing that what he cared about most in the story had everything to do with me and nothing to do with football. “It was one of those ‘everyone in town knew but me’ situations, which made me feel like the biggest loser.”

“Why would that make you feel like a loser? He’s the prat in this scenario.”

I shrugged, feeling a tad too transparent. “It’s nothing.”

He frowned and his eyes grew scarily serious. “Tell me, Vi.”

Sighing, I looked down at his chest, and played with the buttons on his shirt as I replied, “It’s just a daft fear I have. My dad and brothers have always been great at showing me how much they love me…They didn’t give me a complex or anything.”

“But…”

“But growing up…I always felt a bit invisible to all their mates.”

“How is that even possible?” Hayden’s eyes pierced me with an intensity I could feel everywhere, but I couldn’t look at him as I continued my explanation. I felt too vulnerable, and the truth was too damning. But I wanted to share it. He’s shared so much with me. It felt important I shared that too.

“My brothers’ friends would barely even look at me, let alone acknowledge my presence in a room. I sort of got it in my head that I was uninteresting…Generic, perhaps. I was content to live in their shadows and take care of things at home. So I just never felt it’d be easy for me to find someone to care about me. And the blokes I did date never had that special spark. I can’t help but think, ‘What is life if you don’t have anyone extraordinary to share your wine gums with?’” I laugh to lighten the tone a bit, but my brain refuses to slow down. “That’s why I was kind of happy to be lumped with Bruce. The little sod has become my best mate and he notices everything I do. He’s around to test my latest food experiment, or pounce on me when I’ve tripped. Bruce Hugs are quite good, really.”

I looked up to see Hayden’s severe expression and immediately wished I could gobble up all the words and stuff them back in my mouth. I swallowed hard when I felt the annoying sting of tears in my eyes. Christ, I wished I could have pulled myself together. I sank my teeth into my lower lip, and did my best to stave away my daft tears. “I was rambling…away with the fairies or something. Ignore me. I make myself sound like a sad, desperate cow. You better get—”

My words were snuffed out by Hayden’s hard and furious lips. He twirled us around so I was up against the wall. He pressed every determined inch of his body to mine with a force that he wanted me to feel everywhere. The kiss was broken all too suddenly when he stopped and murmured against my lips, “Remind me to send a thank you card to your brothers.”

“What on earth do you mean?” I asked, out of breath from his welcomed assault on my blabbing mouth.

“Vi,” Hayden said seriously as he pulled back enough so I could see his whole face, “you are a footballer’s fucking fantasy. The only reason you felt invisible to your brothers’ mates is because they were threatened with bodily harm if any of them ever dared to touch you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.

“Tell me, was this Pierce twat a guy who knew your brothers? A mate of theirs?”

“No, he was a slimy DJ who worked at a club in Chigwell.” I blanched at my embarrassingly poor taste in men.

He chuckled, “I bet your brothers were big fans.”

“Oh yeah, they’re proper mates now. They go paintballing together every Tuesday,” I giggled against his lips and he kissed the sarcasm right off me. The kiss was on its way to a full on passionate snog, but he tows away suddenly and turned to punch the button on the lift.

“I’ll call you,” he stated softly just as the doors closed on his tortured face.

He left me confused and wondering what in the bloody hell had just happened. But thankfully, the day after he left my flat, he rang to ask if he could pop over after he finished work at C. Designs. One night of him watching me make supper for the two of us turned in to several nights. Sometimes he’d bring over take away. But the nights I cooked were my favourite. I hadn’t realised how much I missed cooking with a warm body around. Bruce apparently wasn’t cutting the mustard as far as cooking buddies go, though he’s got his uses—namely lapping up every one of my spills. It’s like his ears are hard-wired to register the sound of the smallest crumb hitting the floor. Never mind the fact that he trips my feet up at least once every evening as an assurance for an ooey-gooey mess.

Anyway, having Hayden there with those warm grey eyes was an aphrodisiac in and of itself. The sexual tension between us is far more potent than the cooking. We may have exchanged several proper snogs up against my fridge and on my kitchen counter. I may have also straddled him on the barstool at the island a time or two.

But every time things begin to progress between the two of us, he stops it, usually by lightly rubbing my nose and calling me a naughty bunny. I’d probably hate the bunny nose brush routine if he didn’t get that crinkly look around his eyes every time—the kind of look that says he’s trying to conceal a sublimely happy smile. Pretty soon though, I’m going to show him a whole different animal if he doesn’t stop playing so bloody hard to get. I was the one to slow things down between us on the first night. But since then, it’s been him…even insisting on leaving my flat before eleven every night for the safety of his own bed.

Regardless, there’s something so gloriously and beautifully ordinary about having him around while I busy myself in the kitchen. He’d help a bit and we’d laugh. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

One night he asked me, “Don’t you ever cook and drink?”

“What do you mean?” I replied curiously.

“Most proper chefs I know enjoy a glass of wine while they cook.”

“Well, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” I replied honestly.

He promptly waltzed over to my wine fridge, grabbed a bottle of white, and poured a glass for me. Then, he popped the cork back into the bottle with a huff. “I’m not fragile, Vi. I’m not going to crumble.”

Well okay then.

I didn’t realise I’d been behaving differently around him until he said that and then I felt like a prat. Hayden shouldn’t have to remind me he’s okay. Just looking at him, I know he is. However, I think he is definitely in the small percentage of recovering addicts who don’t fear relapsing every day.

He tried to explain to me that his alcoholism was a bit different than most as it didn’t take shape until Marisa died. “I struggled with survivor’s guilt after Marisa’s death. That was the start of my problems. It wasn’t a brain chemistry issue or heredity inheritance of depression. It was an environmental event that affected me deeply. As a result, I turned to drinking and other dangerous behaviours. But alcohol is a depressant. It stoked my guilt and caused me to drown in my own self-pity. Continuing to drink could essentially lead me back to that dark place in my mind. That means avoidance of all alcohol is paramount if I don’t want to slide down that slope again.”

The more I learned about Hayden, the more I wanted him. Every day he surprised me with all he was willing to share with me. Even the light-hearted family stories were such a great glimpse into his life.

One day we took Bruce for a walk, and he told me this hilarious story about his mum catching Theo and Leslie butt-naked in the hallway of their family home last year. I laughed so hard I couldn’t help but continue pegging him with tons of questions about his mum. She sounded delightful in every silly story. Then I told him about how when I was growing up, I always paid close attention to other people’s mums. My friends at school would invite me over, and instead of going up to their rooms to talk about boys, I would ask if I could help their mum make tea. It’s probably a large reason why I didn’t have many friends. I admitted that even to this day, I watch mothers at supermarkets and fantasise about what they’re preparing their family for supper. I dream about what it would have been like growing up with someone like that. I was so envious that I turned into that weirdo who stalks middle-aged women in the grocery store.

But after a fortnight of lying low and just slowly getting to know each other, the real world came barging in. Hayden and I made plans to take things to the next level. No countdown. No suicide talk. No painful past crap. Just a date. A single, solitary, painfully normal, and somewhat boring date.

Dinner and a film.

I’m positively buzzing with anticipation. I’ve got my main mutt, Bruce, standing guard at my door, watching me with sad puppy-dog eyes.

I’m dressed in a simple black and white striped, short sleeve, cotton dress. It’s rather modest, aside from the shorter length, but I paired it with my favourite white Converse to give it a more casual appearance. Keeping to the theme, I left my blonde hair loose down my back, adding just a bit of soft curls to the ends, and my makeup is light and elegant.