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By the time Kenneth came off the phone, he was red-faced and flustered.
‘Anything wrong?’ Connie adopted the lightest of tones.
‘Everything’s fine,’ he replied, taking a mouthful of wine. ‘But I may have to go.’
The hairs on Connie’s arms sprang to attention. ‘You can’t. I mean, we haven’t had dinner.’
‘I know, I’m sorry.’ He gave a half-shrug.
Connie wasn’t giving in that easily. Rallying her deflated spirits, she moved over to him, keeping her voice and movements seductive, and was careful not to sound pleading. Pleading would come later, but only if push came to shove.
‘I asked you here so we could talk about the wedding,’ she said, smoothing down the front of Kenneth’s jacket lapel, tilting her head to expose more of her neck. ‘Our daughter is getting married next weekend and we’ve yet to discuss gifts, or speeches, or seating arrangements.’
He stepped away and cleared his throat. ‘What’s there to discuss? Beth has it all in hand. She’ll tell us where to sit.’
The rejection stung. Connie couldn’t believe he was bailing on her. But perseverance and an unwillingness to see her plan fail propelled her towards him, almost trapping him against the window seat. ‘It’s important that we present a united front, Kenneth. For Megan’s sake, if nothing else.’ She batted her eyelashes, something that used to work on him. Not any more, it seemed.
He ducked past her and headed for the door. ‘It’ll be fine. We got on okay tonight, didn’t we?’
‘You’ve barely been here half an hour.’ She swung around to face him, her voice betraying her panic. ‘That’s hardly a test. And what about dinner? I’ve spent all day cooking. I’ve made your favourite dessert, lemon meringue pie.’
He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘You shouldn’t have gone to so much bother.’
‘I wish I hadn’t,’ she muttered, glancing up at the ceiling.
‘Really, Connie, you’re making too much of this. It was just a casual visit. I had no idea you meant for it to be so… intimate.’ His eyes dipped to her exposed cleavage.
‘You seemed happy enough earlier,’ she said, with an edge to her voice.
‘That was before.’
‘Before, what? Tiffany rang and told you to come home?’ She wasn’t going down without a fight. ‘What are you? A grown man, or a naughty schoolboy?’
Kenneth’s shoulders lifted in indignation. ‘Don’t speak about Tiffany like that.’
‘Like what?’ She opened her arms. ‘I haven’t said a word aboutTiffany.’
He pointed a finger at her. ‘No, but you implied I’m under the thumb.’
She took a step towards him. ‘Aren’t you?’
They were inches apart, staring each other down. The air crackled between them like Chernobyl about to erupt. Sirens blaring, warning lights flashing. It was just like the old days, in decades past, when they’d been young and in love and passionate for each other and had fought like the fiery beings they were.
Kenneth’s gaze was fixated on her mouth. ‘Not in the slightest,’ he said, leaning closer.
She closed the gap and whispered in his ear, ‘Then stay and have some dinner.’
She felt him shiver and knew he was on the brink of caving… until ruddy Alex barged into the room. ‘Mum…? Grandma has no Wi-Fi. She keeps calling me. And she says she’s had no dinner – can you go over there?’
Connie rarely swore. This was one of the few exceptions.
She turned sharply to face her son, who clearly hadn’t clocked the charged atmosphere in the room, and glared at him, suppressing the urge to brain her youngest child.
Kenneth had recovered a beat quicker. ‘Alex, is that weed I can smell?’
Oh, hell.
He turned to Connie. ‘You let him smoke weed in our house?’
