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“Fine.” Smiling, Murphy holds her up. He’s almost far too gentle, something I noticed in the way he put himself between Arabella and Benedict. “Let’s all get inside. I’ve been told that rooms are ready and there’s tea and toast in the drawing room as well as fire.”
His demeanour and carry on is uncannily like Wayne’s. Going above and beyond his role of protector.
The large wooden doors open beneath the elaborate iron crown balcony rail surrounding the triple-height window above it.
“Shit.” I pause when I spot Mum pacing back and forth in the window. She’s talking into her phone, and I know she’s seen us, but she’s doing that thing where she pretends she hasn’t noticed us because she’s trying to contain her anger.
“I hope you’re ready because she’s fucking pissed at you lot.” Wayne sighs as he takes the steps down to the gravel drive two at a time. “You fuckers are the reason I’m more salt than pepper.”
He gives Murphy a nod before taking Fleur from him, giving Arabella a tight smile before he carries on back into the house.
“I had no idea they were here,” Murphy says the minute I look at him. “He didn’t say anything when I spoke to him earlier.”
“You’re all fucking idiots if you didn’t see this coming. As if they’d let us galivant away.” Arabella walks up the steps into the house. “You were shot for God’s sake!”
Her hands go to her hips with a huff. The shorter lengths of her hair bluster all over her pinched face, and my heart chooses that moment to fucking thaw. The grudges I was trying to hold on to so tight melt into fucking awe, like I need to love and admire her any more than I already do. That’s half the problem. The esteem and affection I have for her makes it impossible for me to deny her anything she asks of me.
She wanted a baby. I put one in her.
She wanted the fucking house. I bought it for her.
She wanted freedom. I gave it to her.
Against my better judgement.
Now she wants revenge. Against my better judgement, I’m going to let her have it.
Because in this moment she’s proven to be a better player than me.
Charging up the steps, I grab her wrist.
She played you.
Again.
“What are you doing?” Failing to stop me or pull away, she squeezes my arm as her Uggs slip over the stone floor. “Christopher!”
“You want to play?” I pull her down the steps towards the back of the house so fast, she has no choice but to jump the short flight, landing unsteadily on her feet. “You want in?”
“Stop it! Let go!”
“Huh? Do. You. Want. In?” Yanking her forward, I spin her to face me as I press her to the sports hall door. Hoisting her hands up on either side of her head, I pin them beneath mine.
When our stares clash, she finally realises I’ve caught on to her.
“I had to.”
“You chose to.”
Worry flickers in her dark eyes, the dawning light flickering crimson in their depths as it filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Why do you keep fighting me?”
“I’m not fighting you. I know you think I am and that to you it looks that way, but I’m not.” Her plump lips press together, colour blushing her cheeks with fear and sadness. Her audible swallow does nothing to erase her tears; if anything it makes them glisten like crystals hanging off her long lashes. “I’m trying not to lose another thing I love. And not because I want to fix things, but because if anything happens to you, Christopher…I won’t survive it. My heart isn’t strong enough.”
“Why Mum? You could’ve gone to my dad; he owes you enough.”
“Because she’s the only one that understands me. She’s the only one that has the same fear as me.” She’s trembling in my hold. I feel her pulse pound hard and fast in my hands.
