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“I’ve worn that suit twice already,” he said, pouting at me from the other side of the table. “And Drew said that’s unacceptable.”
“So, let me guess. You’re wearing the yellow suit?”
Hugo chuckled, nodded. “I’m wearing the yellow suit.”
Setting the polish bottle down, I folded my arms across the table and took a moment to stare at him, bottom lip between my teeth. He looked exquisite against the backdrop of lush hedgerows and hydrangeas, framed by the French windows behind his chair. He sat so still he could’ve been the focus of a portrait set in quintessential late English summer scenery.
“Twenty-eight,” I said, referring to his birthday next week. “How did we get old?”
His eyebrows arched, only briefly, but he didn’t speak. The party next week was Drew’s idea, but I felt concern the lavish affair might not be a great plan. People, pleasantries, noise, being the centre of attention…they were all the things Hugo hated. There wouldn’t be a stage for him to isolate on. He wouldn’t be in control. Drew had arranged to hold the event at the house rather than leasing some glitzy and public venue, but I still wondered why Hugo had agreed to it.
“It’s not too late to cancel,” I tried to assure him. “Then we can celebrate the proper way. In bed. All day. Alone.”
I liked the smile that grew on his lips, the one that encouraged his dimples to appear. Hugo Hayes was as famous for those cute and youthful dimples as he was his music. I had to admit, it was difficult not to feel a tad smug that I was the only person who got to kiss them at night before he went to sleep.
“We can still do that,” he said with a roguish grin. “It doesn’t start till eight.”
“It just… really doesn’t seem like your thing. Drew should know that.”
Hugo shrugged. “Drew thinks he’s encouraging me. His heart’s in the right place.”
“It’s your heart I’m bothered about.”
“My heart is just fine, Heli. I promise. I can say no to Drew when I need to, but I owe him, you know? He just wants to show me off a little, and he said he’ll keep it small. It’ll be fine.”
I hoped so. Hugo certainly sounded happy with the idea, and I had no reason to think otherwise…apart from he’d used the word fine. I’d developed a strong unease around that word and its meaning.
“You look worried.”
I am. “I’m fine.” See? Fine was a bad word.
“Have you talked to someone? Like Chrissie? I know I haven’t been all that easy to be around lately.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t discuss your issues with anyone.” I felt offended he could think I would.
“No, no. I’m saying you should. My problems are our problems. I know that. I can’t and I don’t expect you to deal with that all by yourself, Heli. You should talk to someone if you need to.”
I smiled, shoulders sagging. Sometimes, I really did wish I could talk about things. Not for advice, just to vent. Cry, maybe. “I’m fine,” I said anyway. Apparently, we were both doing just fine.
“All right. But make sure you do if you need it, if that changes.”
“I will.”
Hugo nodded. “So, have you given any more thought to your colour scheme?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I’m thinking mauve. Or is that too rich? Taupe? No…that’s boring. Almond?”
I’d finally invested my inheritance, bought premises with enough space to work in the back and display and sell some pieces out front. I’d needed a mortgage to cover some of it but felt confident I’d be able to afford the repayments once things were up and running. Hugo had offered to plough some of his own money into it, tried insisting at one point, but I didn’t want it. He tried to justify it by telling me the cash would be but a drop in his ocean of megabucks but that wasn’t the point. This was my adventure. I didn’t want his money. I wanted to either earn my success or fail on my own terms. Now, of course, came the hard work. Transforming the building, getting my name out there, securing clients...which was already happening thanks to my attendance at the SLFAs. It would seem I wasn’t obstinate enough to decline Hugo’s offer in that department. He had great connections and it seemed foolish not to allow him to let my name slip on occasion.
“A combination?” Hugo suggested. “A mauve feature wall could look great.”
“Yeah. I was thinking that, too. Right, do not touch anything for half an hour,” I instructed, pointing to his bright and beautiful nails. “I won’t be long. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”
“If you leave me with a kiss.” He craned his neck, puckered his lips.
Pushing out my chair, I stood and leaned across the table. Taking his face in my hands, I left him with the softest, longest kiss I could offer, missing the taste of him the second I pulled away. “I love you.”
