Page 101 of Pretty Mess

I have to wonder what he’d say if I turned the same question on him. There must be loads of men who’d kill to be with him. Not for the first time, I wonder why he’s alone.

“So, what happened when she died?”

“Eh?” I realise what he’s asking. “Oh, my brother took me in. He and his wife, Cath. She’s lovely.”

“So, the three of you are close.”

“We used to be.” I think of Tyler, and for a moment, I feel like I could drown under the weight of worry and uncertainty about my brother. And still despite everything, there’s the usual undercurrent of fierce love for him and the knowledge that I would do anything for him.

I yearn to tell Mac about my problems and get his opinion on them. He’s so wise. However, that’s not what we are, so I dismiss the impulse and ask another question. “Do you have siblings?”

“God no, and that’s a good thing.” He sloshes his wine a little, and I realise with a start that he’s slightly drunk. I’ve never seen him this way. Obviously, he’s a man who values control.

“Why?” I blurt. I bite my lip, regretting asking him about something he feels uncomfortable about, but to my surprise, he answers me.

“Because I wouldn’t have wanted another child to experience my family in any way.”

“Oh no.” He doesn’t answer, so I race to fill the silence. “They fuck you up, your mum and dad.”

He blinks at me. “Did you just quote Philip Larkin?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” I say crossly. “You probably thought I’d quote The Beano.”

“It would certainly make more sense.”

I shove him, laughing, and we look up as the waiter delivers more food.

He deliberately keeps the rest of the meal light, but I can’t help dwelling on the words he let slip.

Later on, after he’s fucked me and left for his own room, I roll over in the tangled sheets and stare at the ceiling. My heart hurts at the thought that he might have been a lonely child. At least I’d had Tyler and Cath. Who had he had? The thought occupies me until I fall asleep.

The next morning is rushed as we pack and eat an early breakfast. Before leaving, I go onto the balcony one last time. Paris sparkles in front of me, all signs of the turbulent weathergone and blue skies as far as I can see. I feel a pang at the thought of leaving. It’s not because of the beautiful city, even though I’ve fallen in love with it. It’s more that I feel Mac and I could become close here. Or at least, closer than we have been. I’m not looking forward to returning to the way it is at home.

Footsteps sound, and I turn to see Mac in one of his suits, this one a three-piece pinstripe that makes his eyes look even bluer than usual. His perfect appearance strikes me as armour, his walls back to full power today.

“Taking a last look?” he asks.

I smile at him, making sure there’s no trace of the pity I felt last night. He’d hate that. “Yes. Thank you for bringing me here, Mac. It’s been wonderful.”

He inclines his head but doesn’t say anything. Maybe he wasn’t expecting thanks? I think back to Julian’s assertion that he had a one-night policy with the boys at the club. It’s likely I’m the first one he’s brought to Paris like this. Foolish, but the thought that he’s treating me as something special thrills me.

He steps back. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Shall we go?”

I nod, taking one more yearning look at the city. I startle when I remember something. “Oh god, we need to check the safe. I left something there.”

“In the safe?”

I step past him into the lounge and head to the safe in the corner. After typing in the code and spinning the dial, I open the door and extract the contents. “Here’s your money,” I say, handing it to him.

He takes it and stares blankly down at it as if he’s never seen money before. He glances up at me. “What is this?”

“It’s the money you gave me when we got here.”

His eyes widen. “You didn’t spend it?”

I wave a hand as I go past him to grab my bag from the sofa. “No.”

“Why?”