Canada Square (Love in London #3) (29 page)

“Grant Industries.”

When I try to pull my hand away, he simply holds on tighter. “And before you say it, I had no influence on your internship offer. The first I knew about it was when Daniel started talking about his new project manager during a telephone call yesterday.”

My voice cracks. “Where is it based?”

“I haven’t accepted it yet. If I do, I’ll be travelling a lot, but my home office will be in New York.” He says the last two words slowly, deliberately so, to maximise their impact. “You won’t have to see me if you don’t want to,” he adds hurriedly. “Grant Industries is a big company, and I won’t be in the office very much.”

Our hands are still intertwined. I can feel his warmth leeching into my skin, and the tenderness of his thumb as he strokes it gently against my palm. Callum looks at me expectantly. It isn’t the time for holding back my emotions.

“You hurt me,” I tell him. “By making all these decisions without consulting me first.”

“I know, and that’s why I’ll only accept the job if it’s okay with you. Grant knows that.”

A loud crash comes from the kitchen, and when I look around I see that the restaurant has emptied out. Apart from a group of students in the far corner, Callum and I are the only ones here. The lights have dimmed, leaving the flickering candle in the middle of the table to illuminate us both. He stares at me, face orange from the reflection, waiting for a reply.

“You broke my heart.”

“Let me mend it,” he says softly. “Let me rebuild you, piece by piece, the way you rebuilt me.”

The sweetness of his words touches me. There’s no doubting his sincerity, it’s in the shine of his eyes and the curve of his smile. It’s pouring out of his soul.

In spite of the tears rolling down my face, a huge grin spreads across my lips. I’m nodding and then he’s standing and pulling me into his arms, pressing his mouth against mine. The next moment my arms are around his neck, and I’m kissing him just as hard, laughing as he starts to swing me around.

“New York, baby,” he says, grinning, when he finally puts me down. “We’re going to have a ball.”

“We’re going to
work
,” I say pointedly, though the smile remains.

“You know what they say about all work and no play…”

“It pays the bills?”

“It’ll certainly buy you a lot of coffee,” he replies. “Which is a good thing, as I’ll expect one on my desk every morning just before nine.”

I shoot him a warning glance. “There’s only one place I’ll be shoving your coffee,” I say. “And I don’t think that’s what Starbucks has in mind.”

He leaves some money on the table, waving away my offer of going Dutch. “I’m tempted to say you’ve become mouthier since I first met you, but we both know that’s not true.” With his arm around me, he steers us out of the restaurant door and into the evening air. “You’ve been giving me hell since you walked into my office.”

“I don’t intend to stop.”

He dips his head to kiss me, still smiling. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

EPILOGUE

We leave New York in the middle of a heat wave, arriving at Heathrow on a dismal July morning. As soon as we step out of the terminal I pull my woefully inadequate cotton jacket around me, shivering as a gust of wind lifts up my hair.

“Welcome to London,” Callum says, throwing his arm around my shoulder and holding me close. “Is this what you've been missing?”

It's been months since I last stepped foot on British soil, and I've been hankering for a taste of home for a while. As much as I've loved living in New York, it's felt a bit like an extended holiday.

A black cab drives past, its wheels hitting a puddle. I jump back, narrowly avoiding getting splashed, then have to hide my smile when I realise Callum wasn't quite so fast.

“You've got a little something on your trousers,” I tell him, gesturing at the inky black stains running the length of his jeans. He glances down, rolling his eyes, then reaches for me, trying to manoeuvre me into the puddle.

“Hey! Not fair!” When I try to move back his hold is too strong, but instead of dragging me into the dirty water, he pulls me close, looking down at me with a smile curling his lips.

“What?” I ask, trying to work out his expression.

“You're beautiful,” he says, his voice low. “Extremely annoying, but beautiful.”

“I'm not annoying.” I pout. “It's not my fault you have the reflexes of an old man.”

“I don't remember you calling me an old man last night when my face was between your thighs.”

Reddening, I look around to see if anybody heard him. “Hush.”

He presses his lips to my ear, his voice taking on a high tone as he attempts to mimic mine. “Oh Callum, right there, oh God,” he whispers. “Don't stop, please don't stop.”

“Shush!” I say it louder, my cheeks burning. “Somebody might hear.”

“That's what I told you last night, babe, but it didn't seem to worry you then.”

We climb into a cab, Callum loading our cases into the boot, and I lean forward, to give the driver Mum's address. We talked about booking a hotel instead—something impossibly expensive and boutique-like, knowing Callum—but in the end we decided to keep the peace by staying in Plaistow. The taxi pulls out, into the right hand lane, and we begin our slow journey across the city.

It's almost lunchtime when we arrive and I'm feeling sluggish and achy from the overnight journey. Without having to say anything, Callum tenderly massages my back, trying to loosen the stiffness that eight hours of travel has formed.

“You doing okay, babe?”

I give him an exhausted smile. “I'm fine.”

“Let's just get you home and I'll take you straight to bed.” He winks and I widen my eyes, trying to look affronted.

“Mum says we can't share a room because we're not married,” I tell him. “You're in Alex's old room.”

The look of horror on his face makes me giggle.

“What the hell? I'm not sleeping in a separate bloody room. We live together for God's sake, that's pretty much the same as being married.”

I bite my lip, holding back a laugh. “Tell that to my mum.”

She couldn't give a damn whether or not we share a bed, but I'm enjoying this too much to stop. “You won't get lonely, though, because the cats love Alex's bedroom.” I grin, glancing at the driver to make sure he's not listening. “You'll be surrounded by pussies.”

Callum chokes, and I can't hold the laughter in any more. I start to snigger even louder when the look of realisation washes over his face, and he frowns. “Amy,” he warns. “Don't mess with me, you might not like the result.”

On the contrary, I think. I love it when he gets all mad and alpha. Callum in a mood sends shivers down my spine.

“Try me,” I whisper, and his eyes darken, before he leans forward and kisses me hard.

* * *

A little later we're perched on the sofa at Mum's house, being crawled over by three cats and my nephew. Mum's keeping up a constant stream of conversation while we drink our tea. She tells us about Andie's trip to Australia, surprising me when she says that my big sister finally has a boyfriend, then lowers her voice to inform us that Lara is pregnant again.

I've absolutely no idea why she's whispering; at his tender years I don't think Max understands a word. Still, it's fantastic news and I can't help but grin when I think about having another nephew or niece.

That's the reason we're here, really. When Alex called to tell us they'd brought forward their renewal of vows, I didn't bother to ask why, but now I'm guessing it's so Lara can walk up the aisle, rather than waddle. They've decided to go the whole hog, with stag and hen parties tonight, and the ceremony tomorrow.

“Have you heard from your dad?” Mum asks. Though her tone is airy, her interested expression gives her away. I suspect she'll always hold a little torch for him—and he for her—even though there's been no repeat of the lounge incident.

“He sent me an email last week,” I tell her. “He’s good.”

Max trips over one of the cats, landing face first on the carpet, and immediately starts to cry. Callum reaches Max first, swinging him into his arms. Maxie buries his face in Callum’s broad shoulder, muffling his sobs in his shirt.

For a moment, I get a tiny glimpse into the future. Callum holding one of our babies, his huge hands rubbing their backs. It’s such a contrast, the big man and a tiny child, and I find myself longing for that day.

We haven’t talked about children yet. We’ve barely mentioned marriage, but we both know our future is together.

“Give him here.” Mum takes Max from Callum and carries him into the kitchen, whispering in his ear that he’s going to be all right. By the time she’s sat him on the counter his tears have stopped, replaced by a lisped request for a band-aid.

“I remember when a plaster solved everything,” Callum smiles. “Especially if it had the Mr Men on it.”

“Some things don’t change.” I step into his embrace. “You’ve always been a big baby.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you staring,” he whispers, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. “Did you like what you saw?”

I hide my smile in his chest. “I think you made my ovaries explode.”

A laugh rumbles in his throat. “That sounds painful.”

“Looking at you is always painful,” I lie. “But I consider it my duty.”

Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine. “In that case, consider this an obligation.”

He kisses me softly, and I find myself being very obliging indeed.

* * *

It’s almost midnight, and we end up in a nightclub near Soho, sitting in a cramped booth as the bass pumping out of the speakers makes the entire room vibrate. Beth is at the bar, getting a round in, while the rest of us are pinning condoms and party rings to the veil fixed on Lara’s head.

“I don’t get why I have to wear this,” Lara whines. “It’s not like I’m getting married. I’ve already done that.”

Beth arrives, sliding a tray of shots onto the sticky table. “You know why.  Because Alex wants it to be traditional this time. Hen nights and church services and the whole shebang.”

Lara starts to reply, but her grumble is cut off as we make her do the first shot – a non-alcoholic one, of course. Holding her nose, she tips her head back, letting the syrupy green fluid flow into her mouth.

“That’s disgusting.” Screwing her nose up, she puts the glass back on the tray. “What the hell is that anyway?”

“Apple schnapps for us, and some disgusting alcohol-free concoction for you,” Beth replies, “On the house. Apparently hen nights are good for business.”

I see what she means when I look around the dance floor. Men outnumber women by a good percentage, and from the predatory looks some of them are shooting, it’s only a matter of time before they start offering to buy us drinks.

“Ugh,” Sally, one of Lara’s co-workers from the clinic, is the second to take a shot. “They’ll be disappointed when they find out we’re all taken.”

“When has that ever stopped them?” Lara mutters. “I told Alex this was a bad idea.”

While they start discussing the best way to fight off unwanted advances, I sneak a look at my phone. My heart races as soon as I see there’s a message from Callum.

Remind me again why I’m not allowed to come and see you?

I quickly tap out a reply.
It’s tradition. The stags and hens should never meet.

Fuck tradition, I want to dance with my girl. Where are you?

I can almost hear the impatient brogue of his voice.

Not telling. ; p

Don’t try and hide from me, babe, you know I’ll always find you.

Smiling, I slide my phone back into my pocket and pick up one of the glasses to take a shot. I’ve hardly put it down before the first of many guys approaches the table, asking us what we’re doing here. It’s patently obvious that Lara has a wedding veil pinned with condoms on her head.

We’re not exactly on a nun’s night out.

By the time we’ve shaken our heads at the third hopeful guy, it’s clear we’re all feeling weary. We’re about to call a taxi when another man offers us a drink. Lara stiffens, and she’s about to launch into a diatribe when she realises who it is. Alex leans down and kisses her, before taking a condom off her veil and throwing it on the table.

“We won’t be needing those,” he says smugly.

“Why, are you shooting blanks now?” Niall, Beth’s husband, asks. We all start laughing at Alex’s horrified face, while he mutters something about having super sperm.

I stick my fingers in my ear. “La la la, I don’t want to hear this. You’re my brother, for heaven’s sake.”

When I look up, Callum is staring at me from the crowd of men. He’s wearing a sexy, knowing grin that makes my whole body light up inside. We may have been living together for the last nine months, but one look from him still sends my heart racing.

“Hi,” he mouths, his smile deepening.

“Hi,” I mouth back.

The next instant he’s walking over to where I’m sitting, pulling me out of the chair and onto my feet. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were?” he whispers in my ear.

I turn my head until my lips reach the corner of his jaw, and murmur, “Where would be the fun in that?”

Before I know it, he’s dragging me onto the dance floor, pulling my body tightly to his as he starts to move to the rhythm of the music. The bass is low and sultry, and Callum has enough skills for the both of us.

“You okay, babe?” he asks, his cheek pressed to mine.

“I am now.”

He puts his hand just above the swell of my bottom, leaning me backward as my hair cascades down my shoulders. “I missed you,” he says, dragging his lips down my neck.

“Missed you, too,” I gasp. “Did you have a good time?”

“Not really. We spent most of the night talking about you lot, and wondering how many guys were hitting on you. Eventually we decided to call it quits.”

“You were lucky, we were about to leave,” I tell him. “How did you know where to find us, anyway?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I’ve been tracking your phone by GPS.”

“What the hell?” Why would he do that? The invasion of privacy riles me.

He shrugs. “It’s just a precaution. I barely use it.”

“You can’t do that!” I start to yell, and he steps back, surprised. I’m considering whether to slap him or stomp away when he starts to laugh.

“Your face is a picture.” He grins, making him more impossibly handsome than ever. “As if I’d track you. I’m not a stalker.”

I punch him lightly on the shoulder. “No, you’re an arsehole.”

“It was payback for the trick you played on me earlier. The one about the bedrooms,” he says. “Except this was so much better.”

“Says you,” I mutter, already planning my revenge. “And for that, you’re definitely sleeping in Alex’s room.”

* * *

The following day we’re standing in the churchyard, waiting for Alex and Lara to emerge onto the stairs. Though the rain has gone, the cotton wool clouds remain, stubbornly hiding the sun with a greyish lemon glow. Max is running around the graveyard while Allegra—Niall and Beth’s adopted daughter—picks up her skirt and chases him, leading to loud giggles as he gives her the slip.

I turn to Callum, who’s standing next to me, his hands stuffed awkwardly in the pockets of his suit trousers.

“Are you okay?”

It’s as if he hasn’t heard me. He stares at the church, a strange expression on his face, and I start to worry that I’ve done something wrong.

“Callum?”

This time he acknowledges my voice, but the frown on his face remains. I smooth the lines that have formed between his eyebrows, and he grabs my wrist and kisses it softly.

“You okay?” I ask again, this time quietly. He hesitates for a moment, still staring at me.

“I’m better than okay,” he says, glancing at the church again. “Do you think they’ll come out soon?”