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Chapter Sixteen
Jax
What I’m about to do sickens me. But I have to do it. I grit my teeth, take a deep breath, and get my game face on. I ring the bell.
It takes a moment but eventually someone opens the door. I have a story concocted in case it’s not her who answers, but I needn’t have worried. The blue townhouse door swings open and I’m staring into the face of the person I loathe the most in the world. My stomach dips.
“Jax?” Tilly asks, surprise evident on her face. Already, she is breaking out into a huge grin as I try for a nonchalant, “Hey.”
“Oh my god! How are you? What are you doing here? Come in! Come in!” she gushes, moving aside and gesturing for me to enter.
I do, closing the door behind me and stopping for a second to look around. The hallway is wide, with a sweeping staircase that ascends four floors. The downstairs features open doorways, lots of white space, and tasteful gold furnishings. The effect is clean, sleek, modern, yet opulent. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Tilly.
“Nice place, Til,” I say, using my old nickname for her.
“Do you really like it?” She beams.
“It’s a lot less pink than the last room of yours I was in,” I reply, referring to her bedroom when we were at school. She smiles knowingly, but cocks her head and bats her lashes in a falsely coy way that makes me want to gag. “How have you been?” I ask her. Getting Tilly to talk about her favourite thing - herself - has never been hard.
And just like that she’s off. I follow her silently through to the sitting room, as she tells me all about her new life in London, the wealthy stock exchange husband she bagged herself, how all her dreams to marry well and have the house and connections and money that she always aspired to have come true. As vile as the things she did in the past are, at least it made her interesting. Now she’s just a vapid bitch. It will make things more fun for me; she apparently has everything to lose.
“Miss Tilly?” A small voice comes from the doorway and I whip around to see who spoke. A small boy, surely no more than three years old, stands in the doorway in teddy bear pjs, rubbing his eyes.
“Go back to bed, Stefan,” she says coldly. “Juanita! Put the boy back to bed!” she screeches. Close to tears, the boy turns around and walks away.
“Sorry, Tilly, I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. Do you need me to go so that you can see to your...son?” I’m thoroughly confused. There’s no way she’s the maternal type, and the boy didn’t call her mum.
“Stefan?” She laughs, but it’s not a warm, joyful sound. “Christ no! That brat isn’t mine. I can’t stand kids…no, that’s Archie’s son. Previous marriage. Thankfully we only have to deal with him once a month.” She shudders.
I’m not going to lie, I used to have similar views about kids myself. But spending time with Phoenix has definitely started to change that view for me. I’m not saying I’m ready to race out and become a dad tomorrow, but I’m not saying never. The boy seemed sweet enough, and if Tilly’s dead against him, it confirms in my mind that he must be alright.
I grin at her as if I agree with what she’s saying, and she pats for me to join her on the sofa. I take a seat, and she jumps to her feet to quickly fix me a drink. Bourbon on the rocks. I need liquid courage for this.
“So what brings you to London?” She bats her lashes at me again and I realise that they’re false. Overly long, overly thick, over the top. Like everything about her.
“You’ll laugh, but actually you.” She does indeed laugh and leans towards me on the sofa.
“What?” She breathes.
“Well, I heard you were in the area, and I had some family business nearby, so I thought I’d swing by and catch up with an old friend.” I wonder if she’ll call me out on my bullshit; we’re not friends, never were.
“If you were nearby, you didn’t come for me,” she pouts.
“Driving fifty miles out of my way to see you is in the area isn’t it?” I tease with a wink. She preens, like a cat that caught a mouse. This could be too easy I think to myself. I’d better slow it down. I need her to fall for me; it’s not a fuck and duck.
“Oh,” she giggles, “now I feel special.”
I fix her with an intense look. It could easily be construed as earnest, but I’m acting out my eyeballs here.
“I missed you, Til. You look good,” I give her a slow, deliberate once over, and run my tongue over my bottom lip, “really good.” I down my drink in one, placing the empty glass back on the table with a quiet chink of the ice that didn’t have time to melt.
“I’m sorry to call by unannounced. I honestly didn’t realise that you had this amazing life. I wouldn’t have come by if I’d known.” I pause and sigh wistfully. “Of course, I should have known that someone like you would have been snapped up by now. I guess I’m just reminiscent of the old days. We were good together, weren’t we?”
“We were,” she agrees breathlessly. And that’s when I know I’ve got her; hook, line and sinker. She leans in, brushes her breasts against my arm, and pats my thigh. I go to move and she lets out a tiny sound of protest.
“I should go, let you get back to your evening.” There’s no sign of the husband. No sign of anyone actually living here at all. The place is cold, sterile, a museum. I can’t help but think of Raven’s dilapidated shack of a flat. In every sense Tilly’s place is so much better, nicer, fancier. But Raven’s is warmer. And I realise there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
I shake that thought from my head. I have a job to do and I need to focus. Thinking of Raven now could fuck everything up. I make my way back out to the door, Tilly trailing in my wake like a sad puppy who doesn’t want its master to leave. When I reach the door I turn to her and she’s so close behind me she falls into my arms. Without thinking, I impulsively pull her to me and kiss her hard on the lips. Only, it’s Raven’s lips I’m kissing. It’s Raven’s small moan that makes me harder than steel. It’s Raven’s hands that snake up and grip my shoulders.
