Page 18 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

Lydia

“I don’t believe it.” James sighs with frustration. He pushes his laptop away and turns on his chair to face me. “Another two have turned me down.”

I eye my brother from my spot on the sofa. When he first told me about his plan to rejoin the events committee, I was surprised. But the longer I think about it, the more I like his decision.

Ruby loves working on that team. Showing her that he doesn’t just get her passion, he shares it, is a good first step. Besides, last term, James discovered how much he enjoyed organizing those parties—even though he’d never admit it.

“You have to be persistent. Appeal to their consciences, not their wallets. Then they’ll turn up at the gala,” I say, sipping from the mug of fruit tea I’ve wrapped my cold fingers around.

I think the housekeeper knows I’m pregnant.

She brought up the teapot unasked and gave me a knowing look as she whispered that she was sure it would do me good.

James nods absentmindedly and pulls his laptop a bit closer again.

At the same moment, there’s a quiet ping as a new email pops in.

James squints as he reads it, and I reach for a biscuit.

A few crumbs drop onto the sofa as I nibble on it, but luckily, he’s too busy typing a reply to notice—he hates crumbs.

“Have you spoken to Ruby?” I ask after a while.

I hear the sound of an email being sent, then James turns back to me. “No.” He rubs his face with his hand. “At the moment, she can’t even bring herself to look at me.”

“You can’t force her, obviously. But sooner or later, you two will have to have a conversation,” I say gently. “The longer you leave it, the bigger the gap between you will grow. Believe me.”

My brother gives me a long look. Clearly, he can put two and two together. “You still haven’t spoken to Sutton, then?”

I shrug my shoulders. “What is there to talk about? We both know that it’s better this way.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know you’re pregnant. That changes everything.”

“He doesn’t want anything more to do with me.” I shove the rest of the biscuit into my mouth and chew. “He’s told me that more than once. Besides, for one thing I have my pride…”

“And for another thing…?”

I look back at James. “Besides, I’m scared to tell him. I don’t want to know how he’ll react. I have to get my own head around it first, and then I’ll have space to work out what to do if he doesn’t respond the way I’d hoped.”

“Lydia…” James’s phone rings. He doesn’t go to answer it, just keeps looking intently at me.

“Pick up!” I insist. “I bet that’s a potential sponsor.”

He hesitates a moment. Then he picks up his phone and glances at the screen. He takes the call. “Owen,” he says loudly. “Thanks for getting back to me.”

I pretend to vomit. Owen Murray is the CEO of a telecoms company and one of Dad’s best friends. Neither James nor I can stand him, and I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.

“Not too bad in the circumstances,” says James. Suddenly, his voice is firm and businesslike. “No, I’m not calling on Beaufort’s business but on behalf of Maxton Hall. We’re holding a charity gala for the Pemwick Family Center in early February and we’re looking for sponsors.”

I can hear a quiet murmur on the other end.

“Of course. I’ll send you the details. That would be amazing, Owen, thank you.”

James ends the call and types something into his phone.

“If you don’t tell Sutton, you’ll never know how he’ll react.”

“So you think I should tell him?”

He nods. “Yes. And I think he has a right to know.”

I stare into my cup. I peer at the rest of the bright fruit tea and try to make out a pattern in the sludge on the bottom.

Don’t call me. We agreed.

Even if he decides to be there for me and the twins from now on—what does that even mean? That he feels guilty, nothing more. But there’s nothing I want more in the world than to be with Graham because he wants it too. By choice and not because the pregnancy has forced his hand.

James’s phone rings again. He holds up a finger to tell me that our conversation isn’t over, then he takes the call.

I finish my tea and put the empty mug down on the table. Then I pull out my own phone and tap on my messages. I still have Graham’s number saved. I just couldn’t bring myself to delete it. Just having it there and knowing that I could text him if I wanted to is enough.

I scroll to the top of our chat. It’s not just everyday texts and photos; we shared our deepest anxieties and worries. Any normal person would have deleted those messages, rather than keeping them and constantly flicking through them like an old photo album.

Apparently, I’m not a normal person.

This is all I have left of him. And I’m just not ready to let go of him forever.

To be honest, I don’t know if I ever will be.

I miss him so much. I miss our phone calls, him laughing at bad action comedies, our fingers intertwined beneath a café table.

Knowing that I can’t get that back is driving me almost out of my mind.

“That sounds great,” James says. His voice sounds so enthusiastic that I raise an eyebrow at him. “Yes, of course. No, thank you , Alice. Speak to you later.” James sighs with relief and stretches both arms over his head.

“Alice? Alice Campbell?” I ask.

He turns to me. “She owes me a favor.”

“I’d rather not know why.”

He smiles with embarrassment. “Ruby really admires Alice.”

Hardly surprising. Alice Campbell set up her own cultural foundation while she was still at Oxford.

“You’re really pulling your finger out,” I remark, instantly regretting it as James’s face grows serious.

“Don’t change the subject,” he says, but I shake my head.

“I can’t tell him. How am I meant to sit through his history lessons after that?”

“You could switch teachers.”

“That would look really weird.”

James shrugs his shoulders. “There are all kinds of reasons to switch. I don’t think it would be that weird. If you came into my class, we could say it’ll help us revise together.”

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“Well, whatever you do,” James says, “I’ll help you.” He gives me another long, serious look, then turns back to his laptop.

I feel a slight tingle in my stomach and put my hand on it to tell if it’s one of the babies. I can feel them moving a tiny bit now—almost like having butterflies.

Now that James knows, I’m feeling a lot better about things, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m having two children, I’m going to be a single mum, and I will probably have to leave school without A levels. Although…maybe I can get them done before everything comes out.

I force myself to take three deep, calm breaths.

I can’t get caught up in thinking about the future when it’s all up in the air anyway.

I have to take each day as it comes. Because if I spend my whole time worrying, that won’t do anyone any good—least of all the little beans inside me that have to be my priority from now on.

“Fuck,” James exclaims suddenly. He’s linked his arms behind his head and is staring wide-eyed at his monitor.

“What’s wrong?”

James is rigid. Anxiously, I get up and walk over to his desk. I stand behind his chair and hold on to the leather back. Then I lean down a little.

The first words I see are University of Oxford .

Glancing down a little further, I see Dear James…and many congratulations…

“You got in!” I blurt out.

James still isn’t responding, so I turn his chair round to face me. His face is a picture of sheer shock.

“James, you got in. That’s amazing!” I grab him by the shoulders and pull him up to give him a hug. He stumbles and it takes him a moment to hug me back.

“Fuck,” he repeats.

I don’t know whether he’s pleased or freaking out.

As I hold him, I wonder whether I’ve got an email too.

The old Lydia would be running to her phone now, like a woman obsessed, to see if she’d been accepted too.

The new Lydia, on the other hand, doesn’t want to know if she’s just been handed a future that she can’t go through with either way.

I squeeze James a little tighter, happy that things are going to plan for at least one of us.

James

“I don’t need to tell you that we have been through a difficult period lately. But from here on, we can look forward, not back. Because that’s what Cordelia would have wanted.”

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. My father has no idea what Mum would have wanted. Certainly not this performance that he’s putting on right now.

It’s his first official speech as CEO to the Beaufort board and heads of departments, and he’s got them all eating out of his hand.

There are twelve men and women in total, hanging on to his every word with hopeful faces, while I’m sitting here on one side of the long conference table, wondering how I can sneak out my phone without attracting attention.

“If we all pull together, we can help each other out of the depths of our emotions and put Beaufort’s on the front foot once more.

There will be a few changes to face in the months ahead, and I am counting on you all for support.

And at this point, I would like to offer you my thanks in advance.

Because you are our most crucial asset, it is more than ever important to me that, in the months ahead, I will be able to draw on your expertise. ”

I slip my hand into my trouser pocket and pull out my phone. Over the last couple of hours, the lads have been bombarding me with messages, trying to get me to come out for a drink this evening. It’s my first day on the Beaufort board and, in their world, that’s something worth celebrating.

But I’m not in the mood to party. I know that I should make the most of my friends while they’re all here because in the future we won’t have so many opportunities. And they’re already pissed at me for only training twice a week now.

All the same, there’s only one person I want to see tonight.

And that person has been ghosting me for weeks because I pushed her away.

OK, so I see Ruby at school all the time, but I miss her.

I want her to be able to look at me again without the pain making her flinch.

I want to be able to talk to her, whenever and wherever.

I want to know if she got an offer from Oxford.

“Nothing about the corporate culture of Beaufort’s will change after the death of my wife,” my father plows on. “She is the foundation that our success is built on. When Cordelia and I first met, she told me what it meant to join this company, and it is my intention to honor her memory.”

Applause rings out. I clap my hands twice, then sneak a glance at the message that’s just come in from Cyril. We’re at Wren’s. When tf are you coming? He adds a photo of them all sticking up their middle fingers.

Looks like I don’t have a choice. I’ve got to join them after this meeting.

I’ve ditched them too often lately, and it won’t hurt to take my mind off things.

Off this situation. And, mainly, off Ruby.

Whatever I do, she’s always in my head. She’s the only person who’d get how I hate sitting here and listening to Dad talk about how he’ll manage Mum’s life’s work.

I told Ruby everything that night in Oxford.

Those are thoughts I won’t even let myself think, and it was the first time I’d ever said them out loud.

Ruby understood. She didn’t talk about my sense of duty or what my name means. She listened to me and encouraged me. Encouraged me to think about a future of my own.

The longer I sit here, the more I long to see Ruby. And the more often I tell myself that it’s impossible, the stronger that yearning gets.

I have to see her.

I just have to.

“I am not just speaking for myself here. My son, James, who, as of now, will be learning the ropes for his future position at Beaufort’s and, incidentally, received an offer from Oxford this week, also shares my ambitions.”

I look up at the sound of my name and the subsequent applause. There are some friendly nods, but other board members are very well aware that I’ve got my phone in my hand under the table and are pulling disapproving faces. I stare coolly back at them, not putting my phone away.

“Would you like to say a few words, James?” asks my father.

I look at him, trying not to reveal my surprise. He didn’t mention anything before the meeting about me making a speech. His expression is unwavering and as cold as ice. If I don’t speak up now, there’ll be hell to pay.

Fucking arsehole. He knew perfectly well that I wouldn’t have come if he’d told me in advance that he was planning to parade me like a racehorse. So he just threw me under the bus.

I stand up slowly, slipping my phone back into my pocket. I squint at my untouched glass of water and regret not having drunk anything earlier. As I look around the room, my throat is tight. I’ve known some of these people since I was a kid, but there are others I only met at Mum’s funeral.

I clear my throat. It feels like my mind and body are totally separate as words that mean nothing at all emerge from my lips.

“If my mother were here today, she would be proud to see the drive and determination that you are putting into our company.”

I haven’t a fucking clue if Mum would have thought that. I didn’t ever really know her.

Something in my chest clenches. For a moment, I consider running out, without another word, but I can’t. The only way out of here is to get through the next hour. Whatever it takes.

“I am looking forward to a future where I can follow in Mum’s footsteps, doing what she loved and devoted her life to. I can never fill her shoes, but I can at least do my best.”

My gaze meets my father’s. I wonder if he can see the lie in my eyes, and if he clocks that I’m just putting on a show here. Because that’s all it is. A show where everything is rehearsed and nothing is real.

There doesn’t seem to be enough room in my chest for oxygen—it suddenly feels so tight that it’s hard to breathe. Again, I think about Ruby. Ruby telling me that I can do what I want. Ruby, who made me believe in a life where I have options and can choose my own path.

“I can say with true conviction that with all of you as colleagues, the future will surely be crowned with success.”

I nod to everyone around the table and sit down. Some of the disapproving glares have softened during my speech, and they all clap again.

I dare to glance at Dad and a shudder runs through me. He gives me a nod, clearly satisfied with my words. I’ve never felt more like a puppet.