An Unexpected Kind of Love by Hayden Stone
Chapter Eighteen
“So you’re Aubrey’s new…friend I’ve heard about,” Eli says, considering Blake like he’s a fresh offering for a sacrificial altar. The way he pauses before friend gives me mild heart failure. Obviously, Eli knows what’s up. Unease grips my guts, squeezing them tight. Like Eli’s the shark and Blake the proverbial chum—except Blake didn’t get the memo to be daunted, and he grins shamelessly. In fact, Blake’s positively buoyant, the gorgeous, flippant arsehole. It makes me want to swoon twice, having him here at my side.
“I am,” Blake agrees cheerfully, squeezing my hand. “Great to see you again, man.”
I meet Lily’s eye and she looks guilty, a tinge of pink on her cheeks. “I told Ryan about Blake, actually. For arrangements for the party. I mentioned you were away.”
So she was right that she didn’t think Eli knew, but of course it was inevitable that Ryan would talk to Eli about me and Blake. I do my best to feign a confidence I don’t feel. I’m caught between an alpha male confidence crossfire.
“I’m very glad you made it back in time, Blake,” says Eli simply. “It would have been disappointing for Ryan for Aubrey to miss his birthday.”
“I wouldn’t miss Ryan’s birthday.” Indignant, I lift my chin and stare Eli down. It takes a minute to realize he means the Cumbria trip and not Blake’s trip to L.A. So, that’s a dig at me.
“Whatever’s important to Aubrey is important to me, too.” Blake gives me an affectionate smile as he squeezes my hand.
“How codependent of you,” Eli says drily, his gaze piercing.
“It’s thoughtful,” I retort. “Unlike calling people in the middle of the night.”
Eli’s mouth snaps shut.
Blake flashes a million-dollar grin, the sort of self-assured grin which would look brilliant on a feature film. Or, in blissful private moments, unleashed in full glory on me. His hand is warm in mine. He’s entirely relaxed. “I just flew back from L.A. to make sure I could be here to support Aubrey.”
“And, well, here we are.” I take hasty advantage of the second lull of rounds between Blake and Eli. Are they actually having a pissing match over me?“Official lightning round of introductions for you all to meet my boyfriend, Blake Sinclair. Er, Eli—you’ve already met, of course. Right. Never mind. And this is Lily McEvoy. Blake, Eli’s Ryan’s partner and a lawyer. Eli, Blake’s an actor who’s in London filming. The film they filmed in my shop, actually.”
Blake squeezes my hand again.
Mercifully, the waiter’s brought us the promised alcohol, wine for Lily and ale for me and Blake. I gulp down some ale.
“Be right back,” I blurt. “I’ll be fine,” I assure Blake before I make a beeline through the restaurant for outside.
I take a long moment to myself, pacing up and down the pavement, trying to pull it together. Think of Blake. He’s brilliant and he wants you and you want him. Forget Eli and his games.
For a moment, calm washes over me. Reassurance, even.
But when I turn to go back in, it’s not Blake who’s come after me, but Eli.
I stop short, eyeing him. Of course he looks incredible. Golden hair, tanned, blue eyes. He looks every bit the upcoming lawyer in his trim blue shirt, and I wonder how on earth we were together for so long, and what he saw in me. He’s sophisticated in his business attire, while I’m a step up from torn jeans and a faded T-shirt.
“I said I’d come check on you,” he offers.
I grit my teeth together, stuffing my hands into my pockets. My shoulders are tight. My chest is tight. Everything’s too tight, including my skin.
“You seem out of sorts.”
“I’m fine.” I frown at him. “No thanks to you, by the way. What was that call about?”
“I told you—we had a fight. And I needed someone to talk to.” His gaze is unwavering, that way he has of melting me from the inside despite my anger. “And like I also told you, you were always good at listening.”
“You need more friends who’re good listeners.”
“True. But you’re the best one. And the best listener too.”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’re not even apologizing for that call. And— Did you know I was away when you made that call?”
He opens his mouth to protest, thinks better of it, and has the decency to redden. “I might’ve.”
“Hmmph.” I cross my arms across my chest. “So you’re deliberately trying to fuck with something good I have going on in my life.”
“I was drunk and not thinking clearly. Not myself.”
I frown at him. “Wouldn’t it be far more effective to talk to Ryan, the man you were fighting with? To resolve things?”
Eli’s quiet, contemplating me. He looks deflated all of a sudden. And…sad?
I peer at him skeptically, not sure what ploy he’s onto now. “What?” I snap.
“We broke up,” Eli says quietly, staring in the vicinity of our feet.
Blood pounds in my ears as I try to absorb this news. Am I hearing right?
“What?” Startled, I stare hard at him. Stupid oxygen, leaving my body faster than I’m taking it in.
“After the fight. When we talked. I wanted to tell you. It’s not official news yet. But I thought you should know.”
I continue to stare at him. “What do you mean you broke up? Not—certainly not because of me.”
Eli hesitates. “Maybe in part, if I’m honest.”
My frown returns.
Is he actually serious? Eli’s timing is absolute shit. If he was saying this to Aubrey of six months ago, my heart would be in my mouth over the possibility of getting back together. But current me has moved on. Even with the horrible fact that Blake’s going back to America for good. Eli wanting me now that I have someone else is just classic. He’s just bloody jealous.
“Eli, you need to sort yourself out. I’m seeing Blake, and we have something important. Something important to me.”
Eli’s face shifts to disappointment, his gaze lingering.
At last Blake comes out and makes a direct path to me, worry plain across his face.
Unable to say any more, I just look at Eli as Blake joins us, taking my hand.
“I should go back in. See you soon,” Eli says, disappearing back into the restaurant.
I turn to bury my face into Blake’s shoulder, needing his comfort. He smells of luxurious cologne. He rubs my back.
Clearly, the universe is jerking me around. Why can’t things ever be simple and clear-cut? Why is Blake a limited time offer? How can I want someone I can’t have? Someone who lives in a different world than mine?
“Hey, it’s all right,” he assures me.
Eli’s news makes me feel worse, not better. In a week, Blake will be gone, and I’ll have nothing to show for all of this longing.
Eventually, I lift my head from his shoulder and he gives me a soft kiss.
“You ready to go back in?”
“I am,” I say, finding whatever courage I can scrape up. Drawing a breath, I stand to my full height and squeeze Blake’s hand. “Let’s go.”
The rest of the evening passes without incident. Ryan’s well-celebrated and well-loved, that’s apparent. With good reason, since Ryan’s great. I catch his gaze at one point and his wavers, looking away first. So, I take it he knows I know about their breakup, but no one else here does, not even Lily.
We have a few drinks and the evening slides by till it’s time to go and goodbyes are made, with successful avoidance of Eli. After, Blake and I head back to my home, a ten-minute walk away.
Taking the entry direct to my flat, we tromp up the stairs and I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding all night. “Thank God that’s over,” I say with relief, sagging into Blake’s arms as he smiles against me.
“It wasn’t bad. Your friends are nice.”
“Thanks. Sorry that Eli was being an arse.” I hesitate whether to tell Blake about Eli and Ryan’s breakup. What good would that do, telling him? Selfishly, I want his last few days here to be like we live in some universe of our own.
Blake’s unfazed. “He doesn’t matter. You matter.”
I melt against Blake’s smile as we exchange kisses.
“How about I put on the kettle for tea?”
I perk up immediately, because the way to my heart is clearly lined with tea. “Yes, please.”
He grins and goes off, trotting down the other stairs that lead to the back of the shop and the kitchen.
And, a moment later, I hear Blake calling for me.
“Aubrey!” Blake yells again from downstairs.
When I reach the kitchen, Blake’s on his hands and knees, half under the sink, and in a pool of water.
“Holy shit.” I look around with a sinking feeling.
“Where’s the water shut off? It’s not under the sink!” Blake calls out, almost banging his head as he scoots out and sits up. “Water’s coming in through the wall.”
“Fuck. Out front.” I run to the hidden cover near the front door where the piping comes in from the street, shouting back over my shoulder, “The plumbing’s fucked around here.”
“I can tell,” Blake yells back.
I find the shutoff in the bathroom and haul it closed before grabbing some towels and going downstairs to try to mop up the water and the damaged wall.
I suspect one my forever rattling pipes has at last given way. Blake knocks at the damp wall. “In here,” he says. “Mind if I cut a hole?”
I sigh. “Go on. The wall’s fucked. Along with the pipe. What’s another hole in the wall around here?”
Blake finds tools in my stash under the sink and gets to work. Meanwhile, I use all the towels and the mop and bucket to try to save the tiled floors.
“At least,” says Blake optimistically, “none of your new books got wet. This can all be fixed easily enough.”
“Shit, the books!” I dash off to go check the boxes delivered yesterday, but everything’s dry. With relief, I return to Blake. “It’s fine.”
He gives me a reassuring smile. In the meantime, he’s cut a neat but large hole in the wall, revealing the aged pipe that’s given up keeping water to itself. “The culprit. Fixing that’s beyond me, I’m afraid. I don’t have the right tools or parts, but at least we can do an emergency patch with some duct tape, just in case any more water trickles down. You’ll need to keep the water off till it’s fixed though.”
I groan. “I feel like my shop’s cursed lately. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”
“It’s not all bad.” Blake’s grin reassures me, despite feeling dejected about the amount of repairs needed for the shop and my flat. I’ve yet to see a pound for the filming and there’s been no proper shop income in days, aside from a couple of special orders, which won’t cover a thing. “We’ll get things as good as we can manage here, then we can go stay at the hotel. In the morning, you can arrange a plumber to come here.”
“There’s still the whole situation with the shop up front.” I shake my head. “From one disaster to the next.”
“We can sort that too.” Blake assures me easily, as if it’s as easy as breathing. Probably for him it is in his charmed existence. “Bring your laptop tonight and you can follow up with the crew. We’ll see where your books are at.”
“Guess I’ll need to, if we only have five more days.” I slump. “And then, even if it’s all back to normal, it might be too late. All the lost revenue. The bookshop runs on a very thin margin at the best of times.”
“Hmm.” Blake considers as we work together methodically, mopping up the floor and wringing out towels and the mop in the sink without even needing words to coordinate. Gradually, things are drying out in here. “Maybe I can help? I can take a look at your website and give you some ideas.”
Startled, I give him a sharp look. He’s all soft blue gaze, hair a bit rumpled with the effort, like it was out on our Lake District adventure. Like when he serenaded me in the chaos of Euston Station. “You’d do that?”
“Of course I’d do that for you. I can’t promise anything, but I can take a look at your online sales strategy and give some pointers. Look at your demographics and target market. Things like that.”
I purse my lips and start to laugh. And laugh till I’m on the verge of tears, whooping and holding my sides with the hysteria that’s overwhelmed me, between Eli and a burst pipe the latest insult to my shop and home. “My…online…sales…strategy?Demographics!”
I can’t.
Tears stream down my face. As if I offer online sales. The website might still be from the nineties for all I know, from back when the internet was invented. It’s a step up from GeoCities. And the idea that I have some kind of strategy is the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.
Blake takes the mop from me and gathers me in his arms, rubbing my back. “I mean, only if you want—”
“I—you think I’m that organized?” I whoop with more laughter. “Oh God. I’m dying.”
Relieved, Blake catches my face between his hands, brushing tears of mirth away with his thumb. “It’s gonna be all right,” he says soothingly. “Let’s get to the hotel and get some sleep. It’s been a long night.”
Guilty, I realize he’s half soaked from his cleaning efforts, and so am I.
I glance at my watch. It’s after 11:00 p.m., and exhaustion hits me hard then. I give him a kiss. “’Kay. Let me get a couple of things. I’ll text Gemma to warn her about the kitchen for tomorrow when she comes in. Let’s get out of here for the night.”
Blake orders a black cab to take us to his hotel, given that we’re tired and it’s late. I drowse, leaning my head on his shoulder as the driver navigates streets that are steady with traffic even at this late hour. Red taillights as far as the eye can see.
It’s comforting to be like this, together. Part of me doesn’t want to sleep, because waking up tomorrow means only four days left before he goes back to America.