He made himself comfortable, adjusting the pillows behind his back as he just leant back against the headboard. Watching me try to shrink myself into nothing.
“Is this how you hook up with people in clubs? You were talking about vibes?”
“We’re well beyond vibes,” he said quietly, like he was tasting the words. “We just…you know?”
“No,” I said sternly. “I don’t know, Oliver. What is going on? You’ll have to explain this to me because I’m losing my marbles here. I don’t know what is going on, and why you are here, and suddenly I can’t even take an afternoon nap in peace and quiet without getting bombarded with all these…”
I was losing it. I wasn’t proud.
“This was not what we had. We were friends. I liked it when we were friends. What am I supposed to do with you now? We kiss? Do you expectme to just flip you over and do exactly what? I don’t know what’s happening here, and I don’t agree with this…Operation whatever you think you’re doing!”
Yes, I was shouting. Yes, bad move, because now he was pressed into the pillows, looking awfully pale, and his bottom lip was trembling, and here was Cal, walking in like his father and his father’s…OH FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE.My sigh was embarrassing enough here.
“Dad, what do you want from Karachi Castle? I have Auntie’s order from next door, I have Ed and me, Ollie says he likes lamb, so we’re getting a bhuna with extra chops on the side…”
He stared at me, phone in his hand, like he expected me to be able to make rational decisions. For the record? I had no brainpower to even make my body breathe.
“Were you two up to something? You both look guilty as hell.”
I loved my son, but sometimes I wanted to…
“Nothing’s going on,” Oliver said calmly. “Your dad thinks I ask him too many questions.”
“Oh, that’s totally normal. Dad’s old and grey. He needs to be dragged out into the front room and plonked on the sofa with a blanket over his legs, and then he needs a beer.”
“I don’t need a beer!” I half shouted. Half sobbed.
“Calm down, Dad. I’ll put down a king prawn korma and tarka dahl. Two naans. Do you want naan, Ollie?”
He nodded whilst shaking his head, and Cal tottered off, phone pressed to his ear.
Nothing was normal. Nothing was…
He climbed onto my lap. That was the first thing. Then he wrapped his stupid arms around me and buried his face in my neck. Trapped me in my own bed with no way of escaping, and my hand awkwardly tried to putmy teacup somewhere where I wouldn’t have to mop something off the bloody carpet.
The ceiling creaked.
What now? I can’t even think it, and the ceiling creaks?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t,” I said, surprised I actually spoke. Too much hair in my mouth. Too much Oliver on my lap.
“I just… I want this. Can you at least acknowledge that?” He was talking into my neck. Me? Chin on his shoulder. Arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
“This is not one of your business deals. And it’s not…”
“No, it’s not. It’s someone who thinks you’re wonderful. And someone who thinks he knows you enough to see the obvious.”
“Which is?”
Why was I talking? The obvious? I knew the obvious. The obvious was right here.
“I think you should go home,” I said.
I hated that I did. Suddenly I hated everything I was. Who was I? What had I done to the rational human being who usually slept in this bed?
“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied sternly, then gently rose up. His fingers settling around my face. They were still warm from the tea he’d been cradling in those hands. Those large, soft hands against my rough skin. Then his eyes were right there. His forehead against mine. “Not going home. Forget that. I’m right here because I think you need me here.”
