Blazed(33)

"It's hardly a rave in here. I think I have the place under control." Groaning indecisively, I pulled one sandal up from the paper with a fingertip and sighed at it. My mind played through all the scenarios possible. I didn't have a good enough sense of direction to figure out where I was being led to— that alone triggered alarm bells. It didn't necessarily have to be Blaze who sent the package when enough people knew where I kept my spare key.

But what it all really boiled down to was that I'd been focusing so hard on wanting him to turn up that I'd been blocking out how nervous I was to see him again. I'd been dreading a chance encounter in the street, nightmare visions of seeing him wrapped around another woman making the deepest pits of my stomach cartwheel and backflip. It was too likely that I'd snap and act foolishly, either breaking down into tears or throwing myself at him just for him to push me away and tell me that he didn't want me that way anymore. A worst prospect was the disappointment and self-pity if I got myself worked up to see him and it wasn't him waiting for me.

"What do you have to lose?" Mrs Reynolds' question niggled at a point that I also had to consider. I had nothing left to lose. I'd lost everything already. My two men were gone, my family barely present in my life and my friends were feeling dejected. Was I really going to torture myself by seeking him out?

Of course I was. I was one of those people.



THE message on the card filled my mind as I followed the simple directions, finger restlessly brushing across the penmanship as I walked. 'I'm sorry' for what exactly? Sorry that he left? Sorry that he ever arrived? What good was an apology if the reason remained a mystery, and why all this supplementary cloak and dagger bullshit? Just the card would have done without the stupid treasure hunt.

The directions led me to the same restaurant we'd ended up at the day of our smoothie date, specifically to the mezzanine, but the manager there already knew that much. His smile was a little too wise when he led me to the foot of the staircase and paused to pass me a glass of white wine.

"Mr Lundy will join you shortly, Miss White." Mr Lundy? My mouth dropped open an inch to enquire but I just didn't have it in me to speak in that moment. If I did, it wouldn't make sense anyway. Now that the possibility of seeing him was gone, I had to battle through a blind date with a man I didn't know. My strength was best saved for that.

Slowly, I ascended the steps with high hopes for more wine waiting, barely noticing the gentle lilt of music coming from the mezzanine. As soon as I noticed that, I noticed the scattered pink, red and white petals creeping up the top most steps and the scent of fragrant blossoms.

The terrace looked much different from the last time I was there. The tables were missing, replaced with a large arrangement of multicoloured satin cushions set in a closed circle and a white blanket between them, laid out across the wooden decking. The petals that had trailed in surrounded the cushions, and around those were four cross-hatched privacy screens interwoven with honeysuckle. That was the overpowering perfume that filled the bizarrely intimate scene.

"Do you like it?" The voice snuck up on me, sweet and cajoling, sudden enough to make me jump but soft enough for it to only be a small surprise. Eyes stuck to the display, I stiffened on the spot and tightened my grip around the stem of the wine glass.

"You did this for me?"

"You said nobody had taken you on a real date before. I had to rectify that situation."

I still couldn't bear to look at him as I paced towards the cushion circle— it was worse knowing that he'd abandoned his responsibilities for some kind of extravagant pity parade. I'd avoided dates on purpose and it was to avoid shitty situations like these.

"I was told I was waiting for a Mr Lundy."

"You didn't think I'd put all my effort into this just to send another man, did you? You wound me." Not as deeply as he wounded me, but he was surrendering information I'd been hungry for since we met. Blaze Lundy? Christ, no wonder he kept it under his hat. It was a small insight into a man with too much character to contain in one body— a secret shame. "I think my mother thought giving me an awesome forename would make up for it. You can imagine the hassle I got in secondary school when they started teaching us French." Lundy— Lundi, the French translation of Monday. Yeah, I could see that leading to a bad nickname. So did that mean...

"Monday, Lundi, Lundy... Lundy's Miracle?" Was the band closer to his heart than anyone would ever realise?

"They certainly were. They did me proud." Fabulous. Why the hell was he telling me now? I felt him take a step towards me and took an instinctive self-preservative step forward to keep the distance. The minute he touched me— hell, even the moment I could smell him would be the moment I came apart at the seams. "Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry."

"You don't even know what you did?" I snapped back at him, glad to feel the invigorating stab of annoyance through my stupor.

"Well no. I've been staring at my phone since Sunday waiting for it to ring or just buzz with a message."

"You said you'd call me, genius!" Feeling the ire building, I divested myself of my sandals, more than a little sick of their straps digging into my ankles. I'd always hated them for that reason and I was irrationally pissed off at Blaze for not realising that it was why he'd found them in a box instead of loose like all my other shoes. "You sack me off with a classic line then turn up all resentful that I didn't chase you?"

"How do you know classic lines if you've never—"

"Because I don't live under a f*cking rock!" Spinning around, I catapulted each sandal at him in turn with impressive aim and force. It was the worst mistake I could have made.

Blaze never looked more divine in two pieces of a malapropos grey three piece suit that had to be stifling in the heat, a world away from his usual casual attire. He'd really gone all out. His eyes snapped up to meet mine after he deftly caught the projectile footwear and hit me with the full force of all that contradictory knowledgeable wonder I'd grown far too fond of over the summer months. I held my breath, like breathing would intensify the strength of his power over me, willing myself to stand strong and not succumb to the trembling legs that wanted to buckle, pulling me down to the ground to kneel in front of him.

No, to use his own words, 'f*ck it'. I surrendered to that will and folded over, knees and palms flat on the decking. Anywhere was safer than being on his eye level.

"I didn't think you were coming back."

"Why wouldn't I?"

My eyes flickered up to glare at his knees. "Don't insult me with faux-ignorance. You know why."

"I don't, I—" His feet seemed to approach at an unearthly slow pace. He didn't talk as he walked, not a word until he crouched down in front of me. "Japan guy? You thought I'd walk away over that?"

"You found out all my junk in one morning, Blaze. Expecting you to be okay with it is unrealistic."

"I'm not okay with it." I immediately went lax when he rocked back on his heels and pulled me over to sit in the fold of his crossed legs. The smell of him cloaked me like gossamer— heavy like an evening perfume, hopelessly masculine and intoxicating. I'd missed his smell and now that it was back again, I was going to forgive him. I was helpless against him. "But I wouldn't leave you over any of it. God knows my heart wouldn't let me."

"You said you'd call."

"So did you." I leaned back to look up and frown at him. Even when he was trying to be serious, his face was always smiling. What I would have given to be that at peace with life. "You don't remember. You told me on Saturday that you'd call whenever you needed me. I guess it was pretty stupid to think you'd remember."

"So why didn't you call? Or just send a message?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want to bombard you. I wasn't lying when I said I'd call you, but after Sunday I didn't want to make anything worse." My frown deepened, prompting him to explain. "You lost a friend because of me, Emmeline. Even if I do get the impression that he's a pretty poor friend, that was still my fault. That's what I thought you were mad about. Plus, you know, I didn't want to suffocate you with neediness. I was waiting for a green light."

All the angst because he felt guilty? Was this really all crossed wires? I didn't want it to be, I sorely wanted a reason to hate him and had nothing but petty slim pickings. "You did answer my phone."

"So I'm not house broken. I've never made any claims to being perfect— I can't help that the world holds me to ridiculously high ideals just because I'm attractive." He had a point. I didn't know much about him, but I knew enough to know that he didn't flaunt his aesthetics and use them as an excuse to act like a fool the way other people in his position did. He was very modest, evident from the way he sacrificed Monday's Miracle to be a carer. The preconceived notions that he was flawless were consequential of that beautiful face. "I have a theory, you know. A theory designed to distract you long enough for you to forgive me."