Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(58)

She dances around the kitchen opening cupboards and drawers.

“Looking for something?” I shake the bottle of pills.

She snatches the bottle. I watch her put two pills in her mouth and swallow without water.

“Why are you taking those?” I ask. “Did the doctor prescribe them for you? I'm sure they said not to drink with them.”

“They're for my anxiety,” she says airily, flinging open the fridge. “Can you fix the three of us some cheese, sweetie?”

“Why are you anxious?”

“It's hard being a single parent, living all alone.” She moans. “Supporting myself.”

I give her a cynical look. “I pay all your bills, Mum.”

In her heyday, Mum was mildly successful. She had a clothing shop that kept us afloat, but her excessive spending eventually ran it into the ground. I've paid her rent and bills for these past six months and, while I want to help my mum, it's a dependency I need to break. I hope Barry is rich and senile enough to marry her.

“Sometimes you don't appreciate what I went through for you, Elly.” She pulls a bottle of white wine from the fridge.

“You've told me a million times,” I say through clenched teeth. “Loose skin, tits down to your ankles and a weak bladder.”

I need to rein it in, I don’t want to fight with her on her birthday. It’s just it rubs me the wrong way when she forgets I'm even coming.

“Typical Leo, so dramatic,” she says, pouring wine into two glasses. “Don't be in a bad mood in front of Barry, darling.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Shouldn't Barry be trying to impress me?

I follow her into the living room, where she collapses beside Barry on the couch, the hem of her skirt riding up past her knees.

His fingers graze her thigh, and I grimace.

“Tell us all about London!” Her eyes sparkle. “Have you been on the London Eye yet?”

“Not yet,” I say. “But I love the South Bank. Megan and I hang out there a lot. It’s got great markets and bars.”

“I can’t wait to visit you for a weekend. Barry, perhaps we could go for the weekend to visit Elly?”

“That would be lovely…” I trail off as she smiles at him coyly. He licks his lips and tickles her ear with his finger.

Dear God.

“I'm going for a walk,” I mutter. I might as well not be here.

I leave the room to go get a fork to gouge my eyes out.

Of course, I want Mum to be happy and find a partner, I just wish she wouldn’t be so blatant about finding him directly in front of me.

Grabbing my coat, I slam the door behind me and walk with purpose to the green fields bordering the town.

Every time I visit Mum I feel on edge. Between the house-share and my bedroom in Wales being used for storage now, I feel a bit driftless. Someday I’ll own a house of my own and then I’ll call it home.

Until then, I’ll indulge in online house porn.

There it is. The cottage I’ve lusted after for two decades. It lords over the valley like something straight from the pages of a fairy tale. The owners retained its original character with beams and exposed stone walls, but I know they have a hot tub in the garden.

When I was younger, they used to have loads of kids playing in the garden. Now the gardens are deserted, and the children are grown up and have moved away.

I sit on the grass, looking out over the peaceful countryside, and take my book out to read. My plan is to stay up here long enough for Mum to exhaust Barry. Hopefully he’s not on Viagra.





19




Tristan

Nine hours later after dropping Elly off at Paddington station, I’m kicking a football around the backyard with Daniel. Exhausted is not a word I could apply; no I need a word much stronger. I would have had a better night’s sleep if I lay down on the street and paid for a bulldozer to drive over me. I’ve had two espressos but no amount of stimulants will fix the dull pain in my lower back from sleeping on a tiny shit-quality bed.

Still, it was worth it. She was worth it.

“You look really old today,” Daniel informs me.

Thanks, son.

“I have a secret to tell you,” he says as he walks towards me. The match is finished, and it didn’t take much for Daniel to win today. “I’ve got a girlfriend,” he announces proudly.

“Oh yeah?” I raise my eyebrows. “Is this a girl from your class?” The kid looks like a catalogue model. No wonder he's doing well with the ladies at school.

“Uh-huh.” He nods. “Talia.”

Nice name. “How long has she been your girlfriend?”

His brow furrows in deep concentration. “About a week,” he finally says as we walk into the kitchen. “I was hoping Miss Hargrove would be my girlfriend but she’s a son of a bitch.”

“Daniel.” I stop him in his tracks. “We’ve been through this. You can’t call people that, especially not your teaching assistant.” I don’t want another angry phone call from Mrs. Maguire, and she is a son of a bitch.

“I’m telling Talia tomorrow,” he adds, matter-of-fact.

“Telling her what?”

He looks at me like I’m stupid. “Telling her she’s my girlfriend.”