Page 16

16

SKYE

Waiting for the impending lecture and twenty questions, I scrunch my face up, worried what comes next.

“You split up? Forever?” my mom gasps.

Unable to look her in the eyes, I nod, count to ten, then pop one eye open.

I could feel the concern seeping out of my parents’ bodies when I announced that Owen and I had, once and for all, broken up.

Oh, deep joy.

They were hoping for a big wedding. A grand event that townsfolk would speak of for years to come. Now that is never going to happen.

My mom will have to put her diamond-and-sapphire-encrusted tiara back in storage. She pulled it out around six months ago. It’s the one she wore when she married my dad. It’s vintage and has been passed down through four generations of women on my mother’s side of the family.

“Oh, baby girl. It’s okay.” A secret look passes between her and my dad.

She lays her fork down on her plate, reaches across the dark wood dining table, and gives my hand a double pat. “Can we be honest?” she asks.

I bob my head.

“We just want you to be happy, and lots of times, when you were with Owen, you just weren’t yourself, Skye. He’s a nice boy.” Tucking a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, she looks nervous. “But I want someone who will literally sweep you off of your feet.”

“And look after my baby girl.” My dad pats my other hand.

Emotion builds in my throat. “I want that for me, too,” I croak, then take a sip of apple juice.

“Are you happy?” My mom picks up her fork and starts eating her roast beef again.

I swirl my apple juice around the glass, then smile. “Honestly? I am. Owen and I were no good for each other. I was never his priority.” I lift my glass to my lips again and take a huge gulp. “I have a lot of good things happening. And… I need a drum roll.” I look at them both.

Instantly, they both drop their silverware to their plates, making a clattering sound. In fake fanfare, they drum the tabletop in excitement. It’s the thing we always did as a family when I was growing up when anything significant needed a big announcement.

I pause for dramatic effect.

“I’m getting promoted at work.”

My dad cups his hands on either side of his mouth and whoops, causing my mom to join in and me to start giggling.

“That’s my girl.” My dad punches the air.

“So, you’ll be working directly under Jacob?” I almost laugh when my dad asks me that question and he picks up his cutlery to finish the last of his meal.

I hope so. I want to get under him, on top of him. Just everything with him.

“Yes. I won’t report to Robert anymore, and I will have to go away on business more often.” I trace my hands over the wooden tabletop.

“You’re keeping something from us.” My mom smirks. She knows me so well.

A giggle leaves my throat. “I’m just excited,” I lie. It’s way too early to even mention anything remotely Jacob-related. My hopes for us are sky high, but I have a niggling feeling I’m being too optimistic. Owen may never be okay with me moving on with Jacob. I ignore the pain in my chest, not wanting to consider that.

“I might get my house sooner than I thought.” I lift my shoulders to my ears, giddy at the prospect. “I’ll get a pay rise, which means I will be able to save more money and have an even bigger deposit.”

“About that.” My dad puts his knife and fork together neatly on the plate like resting soldiers. “We want to help you.” He pushes his glasses up his nose.

“No,” I gasp.

“Yes,” he says firmly, with a nod of his head. “We have been saving and we want to help.”

“You can’t do that.” I wave my hands in front of me, brushing off his offer.

“Yes, we can, and we are. You are our only daughter, and we want to help.” He looks at Mom and smiles.

“I might cry.” I laugh and sniff at the same time to hold back my overwhelming gratitude.

Pushing herself away from the table, my mom starts clearing up our plates. “Happy tears, I trust.”

My dad removes himself from the table, too. “Plus, we are doing it for selfish reasons. You still have hundreds of books stacked in boxes in your old room. We want them out.”

“I’m going to convert one of my rooms into a library. With a proper old-fashioned ladder and everything.” I reach for my phone when it alerts me to an email. Checking the screen confirms my suspicions. It’s from Jules, a super-fan it would appear, and someone who has been messaging me since I started my hand lettering video channel.

“I’m guessing I’ll be helping you build the library?” My dad wanders into the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, one hundred percent you will,” I giggle.

I tap open the email, and read it quickly, then reply to her request to meet up for a coffee to discuss me giving a hand lettering lesson at the local art group she’s started. She’s been emailing repeatedly, and I’m hoping if I agree then it will stop her from emailing so much.

I close down my email and add our meeting on Tuesday at The Cove Coffee Shop into my diary.

No sooner have I sent it than a reply has landed in my inbox with a Perfect, see you then .

Great, another thing off the list is done for this week coming and I’m keeping my fingers crossed Jules likes my tutorial ideas.

“Pudding?” My mom pops her head around the kitchen door.

“I’m going to skip dessert. I want to head home and have an early night.” I grab my things and make for the front door.

Leaving my childhood home, I look back over my shoulder at my mom and dad. They still look cute together. She’s so petite compared to him. I’m sure she’s shrinking as she gets older.

“Congrats again on the job, sweetie,” my dad calls.

“Shh. It’s our secret for now.” I wink. “Love you two.” I blow a kiss and begin the half-mile walk home.

I’ve never made it back so fast.

Because I have a phone date with Jacob.

I feel like a giddy teenager again.

“Hi.” I lean back on my bed and bend my arm behind my head to prop myself up.

Jacob grins at me down the camera and I grin back and we both start laughing.

“Why am I so nervous? Are you nervous? I feel hot all over suddenly,” I admit.

“You have no idea.” He mirrors my position.

“Show me your bedroom,” I say.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Okay. You first.”

He flips the camera.

Everything is bright. From the white gloss furniture with silver handles to the brave choices of white carpet and walls. There are multicolored abstract pieces of art lined up meticulously above the bed. It’s chic and refined.

I let out a “ Wow .”

He flips the camera back to him. “You like?”

“I love.” I nod my head. “You have impeccable taste.”

“I’ve worked with designers long enough to know good from bad design.”

“You’re an excellent student. Gold star deserving,” I tease.

“Now show me yours.” He tucks his hand behind his head again.

“You’ve not to laugh. I’m in a rental, remember? So be kind.”

“Just show me.” He smirks.

I change the camera direction and slowly move left to right across my room.

“It’s so white, too,” he says, almost shocked.

“I like white. What were you expecting?”

“Color everywhere and loads of different styles flung together that you made work. But not white, clean lines or sharp edges. We have the same taste.”

“We do.” I pan the camera around again, stopping at my stretched-out legs.

“Nice socks.”

“I know someone who likes them very much.” I hitch my leg over my other knee and bounce it up and down.

“Oh, do you now?”

“I do.” I pull my short, pleated skirt up my thigh.

“You’re a menace.”

“But one you love.” I inwardly cringe at my use of the word “love.”

“I do,” he groans. “Turn the camera back round. I want to see your face.” I hit the button to flip the video back to me. “Tell me about your day. Have you been to your mom and dad’s?”

For the next half an hour, we fill each other in on our day. “I’m going to be an uncle again,” he says proudly.

“Could you ever see yourself having children?”

“With the right person, yeah,” he answers. “I know you want children.”

I may have mentioned that when I was a little tipsy one night.

“You know me so well.”

His cheeks flush.

I try reassuring him he’s right. “Kids. Marriage. Sounds nice. I don’t ever want a big, flashy wedding. Just a little one.”

“In a castle.”

I roll my eyes. “In a castle,” I confirm. I’m such a geek and so predictable. “And I don’t want to wear a dress.”

“Figures. Nothing you do is standard.”

White meringue dresses, giddy bridesmaids, and the pomp and circumstance are a real turn-off for me. I don’t need a huge congregation of witnesses to watch me declare my undying love for someone.

It sounds horrid, and a lot of wasted money.

A smile curves my lips, a small chuckle escaping my throat.

“What are you laughing at?” He tilts his chin up.

I reply, “Owen’s parents would never approve of my style had I married him. How would a white and sky-blue dip-dyed pantsuit go down?”

“Sounds perfect to me. You’d look beautiful in anything.” His grin is playful. “What the fuck is happening between us?”

“I don’t know, but I could get used to this.”

“But what if?”

“Shh,” I stop him. “Speak to him.” I don’t want to say Owen’s name out loud.

His expression grows serious now. “I can’t reach him. He’s not replied to my request to meet up.”

“Keep trying.”

My screen goes black. “Oh, you’ve disappeared.”

“Sorry, Linc is calling me.”

“Answer it.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

“That feels too long,” he groans. “If only things were different.”

My thoughts filter back to the day we met. “Everything happens for a reason, Jay.”

“You’re the reason I get up every day.”

“And you’re the reason I’ve started to feel like true love exists.” I’ve never felt this way before. “I don’t know if it’s too quick or too soon. But I feel it.”

“Hold on to that feeling. I want to show you how true that is.”

He’s such a sweetheart. “Night, Jay.”

“Sweet dreams, Butterfly.”

He hangs up our call and I roll onto my back. My heart feels like it’s drifting along like a cloud on the wind.

A knock on my door halts my thoughts. Sitting upright, I move my feet to the floor and pull myself to my feet. “Come in.”

Kimmy turns the door handle and sticks her head around the door. “Hey, gorgeous.” The warmth of her smile forces me to smile back.

“Hey. Sorry I didn’t see you today. I got back late last night,” I say, reaching up to unravel my tight space buns.

“Did I disturb you?” The amusement in her voice is evident as she points to the pink vibrator on the bed I had plans to use later while thinking about Jacob.

“Shit.” I push it off the bed and it lands with a thump on the floor.

“You get it, girlfriend, don’t be ashamed.” She plonks herself down on the edge of the mattress, making it bounce. Leaning back, she crosses her enviable legs. Kimmy wears the shortest of skirts to show them off. She is worse than me.

“Did you have a nice time in London with Mr. Grumpy Pants?” Kimmy pulls a loose thread from the hem of her skirt.

“He’s not that bad,” I snort. If truth be told, he is with everyone else, just not me.

“You said it yourself the other week.”

That was before he told me he was in love with me.

It’s no wonder he’s so ill-tempered with everyone. He’s been harboring all these frustrated emotions he has for me. For years.

She leans her other hand back against the bed, pushing her chest out. The buttons on her pale lemon shirt strain under the pressure of her large boobs. Kimmy sure does like tight-fitted clothing. Every cell of her oozes sexy confidence.

“It was fun. He took me to the theater to see Hamilton .” I feel giddy at the memory.

“Oh, really?” Her eyes narrow as if she’s thinking.

“And he booked a private tour for us at the Tate Modern. It was awesome.”

“Uh-huh.” She keeps staring at me.

I thread my hands into my now loosened hair to massage my sore scalp. My buns have been tied too tightly again today. When will I ever learn?

“What?” I stare back at her.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She shakes her head back and forth with her mouth downturned. She looks like she knows something.

“It was fun. London was a success. We won a number of new contracts. All in all, it was awesome. Oh, and we stayed in the penthouse. There was some sort of mix-up with the rooms.”

“I’m sure there was,” Kimmy states dryly.

“We had a hot tub.”

She goes silent. “Did something happen when you were away?”

“No,” I respond all too quickly.

“Sure?” A hawk-like expression in her eyes, she pushes me again. “Because that man has always looked at you as if he’s fucking starving and wants to devour you.”

“He does not.” My mouth goes dryer than the Sahara.

“You’re in denial.”

“And you’re deluded.” I bat away her suspicions.

She flops back on the bed and looks around my immaculate space. “Whatever,” she mumbles. “Your room is super tidy.”

“Yeah, well, you left it in a mess so I went to town cleaning my room when I got back from mom and dad’s. What the hell were you doing in here this weekend? It was like a hurricane had been through it.” Getting ready for bed, I grab my makeup remover and begin cleaning my face.

“I haven’t been here since Thursday; I’ve been staying at Luca’s place.”

“What? When I came back last night, every one of my drawers was open and rummaged through and my photo of me, Mom and Dad was missing.” I point to the empty space on my nightstand where my picture frame used to sit then wipe the cotton wool across my skin to remove my skin cleanser.

Holding her hands up in mock surrender, she says, “I swear, it was not me.”

Has someone else been in my room? That disturbing thought causes a wave of shivers to run down my spine.

“Are you cold?”

“No, I just got an odd sensation. Ignore me.”

“You left in such a hurry when you left for London, are you sure it wasn’t you? It was all very last-minute.”

Hell, maybe it was me.

I’m usually a neat freak and would never leave my bedroom in such a mess. However, I’ve been oddly distracted recently.

Jacob is screwing with my equilibrium.

If it wasn’t Kimmy, it must have been me, after all.

But where is my photo?

I’ll look for that tomorrow. It’s possibly fallen down the back of my nightstand and I’m too tired to start pulling everything out now.

I park my backside on the edge of the bed and roll my long socks down my legs to remove them. Kimmy springs back up to a seated position.

“What the hell?” She grabs my leg and places my ankle gently on top of her knee to get a better look at what I did this afternoon. “Wow. It’s beautiful.” Her infectious grin is contagious.

“Show me properly.” She urges me to take the protective film off.

When I finally remove it, I smile as I speak. “You like?”

“I lurrrrve it.” She rolls the R.

I hope he lurrrrves it, too.