Million Love Songs(67)

It’s never really been put to the test, but I always thought that I quite liked children; maybe I don’t. Babies are cool, but I’m not sure that I’m keen on teenagers at all.

‘Sorry,’ he says as we leave the restaurant. ‘I’m really sorry. They’ve behaved appallingly. They’re not normally like this.’

‘It’s OK.’ I knew that they’d put me to the test and they certainly did. I never expected them to embrace me with open arms, but neither did I imagine such direct opposition and I have crumbled in the face of their rudeness. Teenagers, one. Ruby, nil.

‘It isn’t OK. They’ve been awful. That was painful.’

Probably one of the most painful experiences of my life and, believe me, I’ve had a few. ‘You were right, Joe. I was wrong. It’s too soon.’

‘They’ll have to get used to it,’ he says, sounding determined. ‘I need a life of my own too.’

I have an awful feeling that I’ve made things even worse by insisting on meeting them. They were supposed to think I was a fun, friendly person and yet they didn’t give me a chance. Breaking into this family could be like trying to crack a walnut with a feather.

Joe catches my hand in his and we swing them between us as he accompanies me to my car. He kisses me softly and makes my head spin, but it’s tinged with sadness. I so wanted this to go well. I wanted the kids to think I was the kind of cool person who would enhance their lives, but my best efforts fell woefully short. They despised me and made it glaringly obvious.

‘I’ll call you,’ he says. ‘Give me a couple of days and we’ll sort out another night out. By ourselves.’

‘You’re a good man,’ I say, heavy of heart.

‘I’d better get back.’ He looks over his shoulder towards Nando’s and the ties that bind him.

I could cry when I kiss Joe goodbye. I sit in the car and watch him walk back to his children, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

That’s it. There’s no way that this relationship will ever work. I’m simply not up to taking on his hostile kids. And I liked him. I really did.





Chapter Fifty-Six





By the time I get home, I’m in the depths of depression. I call Joe and his phone goes to voicemail. Coward that I am, I think this is a good thing.

I leave him a message telling him that I don’t think that this will work between us. I explain that I’ve really enjoyed knowing him, but that now he needs to concentrate on his family. I tell him that he was right that it’s too soon to introduce another person into the mix. I wish him well and then hang up.

I sit and shake for a bit, wondering exactly what I’ve done. I think perhaps Joe will call me when he picks up the message, but he doesn’t.





Chapter Fifty-Seven





At work that night Mason is all over me like a rash. The more I push him away, the keener he is. He asks me to go to his club with him when my shift ends. And I think sod it, why not? I’ve had a shit day and I deserve some fun.

We dance, drink too much and, afterwards, I go up to his flat with him drunk as a skunk. In bed, he blindfolds me, ties me up and pours champagne over my body which he laps up like a cat. The things he does with his tongue are totally obscene. And I love every fucking minute of it.

Just don’t tell Charlie. Please don’t tell Charlie.





Chapter Fifty-Eight





As if she’s psychic, Charlie phones me in the morning. I’m still in bed next to Mason. The ties and blindfold are still on the pillow. I get a flashback to our night of passion and feel an unwanted rush of desire for him.

‘Hiya,’ she says, brightly. ‘What are you up to this morning, Chummie?’

I look across at my companion who’s stirring from his sleep. ‘Err. Not much.’

Call me fickle, but I want to get up and out of here as fast as I can before Mason can do any more damage.

‘Meet me for brekkie,’ Charlie says. ‘Then we can go straight to work.’

‘OK. Give me an hour.’

‘We’ll meet at the café in the woods?’ One of our favourite haunts.

‘Sounds like a plan. See you later.’ I hang up.

Mason opens one eye. ‘Good morning, Brown.’

‘Sorry my phone woke you. It was Charlie. I’m meeting her for breakfast.’

His hand snakes under the sheet and round my waist, pulling me to him. His leg rests over mine, pinning me to the bed. I get a vision of him above me last night, my hands bound and held over my head. ‘Don’t go,’ he says. ‘Stay. I’ll make you breakfast. I am the king of scrambled eggs.’

He’s probably had lots of practice, I think. I wonder how many women have already been in this posh apartment with him. You don’t keep a blindfold for yourself, do you now?

‘I should go.’ I wriggle away from him and out of the bed.

Mason sighs at me. ‘Last night was fun, right?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It was great.’ Just what I needed, apparently.

‘So why are you running out on me this morning?’

‘I’m not running out, I’m just leaving.’