Lovers' Dance (63 page)

Then the skies opened up, and in typical British form, a downpour began.

“Shit,” Dante muttered, peering out the window.

Matt was reaching for the umbrella that came with Rolls-Royces, grasping the door handle to open it and go to her.

“You can’t, Matt.” Dante said, using his given name for the first time. “She’ll freak if she doesn’t spend at least an hour at their graves. She never comes here except for today. The first time we came here, three years ago, she sat there crying for five hours straight, man. Five hours. So I made her promise, one hour, no more no less. You can’t go.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Matt finally voiced his anger. He’d never felt helpless before, and it enraged him. “Sit in the bloody car while she gets soaked? Strike up a conversation with you about the state of the fucking economy while the heavens open up?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you do,” Dante replied in a voice as frustrated as Matt’s. “But you’re not going out there and intruding on her time with them. Right now, the rain is the last thing on her mind. We have to wait.”

Matt muttered a foul expletive and glared out the windscreen at the downpour. He checked his watch. She’d been gone seventeen minutes. Goddamn it. This was going to be the longest wait of his life.  

<><><>

It didn’t stop raining the whole hour they sat in the car. Matt could see her figure walking over in their direction. He was out of the car, Dante following seconds behind, and hurrying over to her. He didn’t bother with the umbrella, it would serve no purpose.

“Poppet,” he murmured as she looked up at him. She was drenched. Soaked to the bone, the legs of her jeans mud-stained with grass sticking in places. The light cardigan she wore over her t-shirt was plastered to her upper body. Her hair was so wet, the curls seemed flat against her head. But what shook him to the core was that empty look in her brown eyes. Her beautiful, expressive eyes reflected nothing, not one single emotion. 

“It’s raining,” she said softly.

“I know. Let’s get you in the car,” Matt replied.

Dante slipped his arm through hers as Matt grabbed her hand, and the three of them hurried to the car. Well, they hurried her along to the car. When they stood next to the car, Dante opened the back door, Matt thought to jump in himself and get out of the rain, but he ushered Madi in gently. She smiled at him before laying down and closing her eyes.

Dante shut the door and they both got in the front. Matt started the engine, wanting to get the hell away from the cemetery as fast as he could.

“I’m taking her back to my place,” Matt said sharply. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

Dante glanced at the backseat. “Madi.”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Matt wants to take you back to his. Are you okay with that? We’ll go home if you want, sweet cheeks. I’ll stay with you if you want.”

“I want to sleep, Dante. For a little bit. Just let me sleep.”

Dante turned frontward, a conflicted look on his face that Matt didn’t like. Dante was barking mad if he thought Matt was leaving her today. He was taking her back to his place where he could look after her properly.

“She’s coming back to mine,” Matt stated resolutely.

Dante nodded and inside the car fell silent until they got back to Greenwich.

“She’ll be fine tomorrow, Friday at the latest,” Dante said in a hushed tone. “Once she sleeps through today, she’ll be back to usual herself. She’ll reset and this, all of this, won’t matter to her. Until next year.”

“That’s—” Matt peered through the heavy rain beating over the windscreen before stealing a quick look at her in the backseat. “That’s insane and, frankly, alarming—”

“It is what it is, man. Look, if you can’t deal, just drop us off at Madi’s—”

“Shall I drop you off at your flat?” Matt interrupted curtly. So they had a little heart-to-heart earlier on, it didn’t mean he liked the man. Far from it.

Dante looked a bit surprised. “Uh, yeah man, it’s on—”

“I know where it is,” Matt replied evenly. “I had a background check done on you, too.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dante murmured under his breath.

Matt smiled tightly. “Yes, I am. Please try not to forget that.”

In record time, considering the downpour, Matt pulled up in front the building where Dante lived. Dante unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted in his seat, reaching back to run his finger down Madi’s nose lightly. Matt frowned. He’d seen her friends Bret and Marie-Sol doing that yesterday.

“Madi,” Dante called softly, running his finger down her nose again. She opened her eyes slowly and blinked at him. “I’m going now. Matt’s taking you back to his place. And Aunt Cleo called before. Call her when you get the chance.”

She nodded before closing her eyes.

Dante spun around to scowl at Matt. “Let her sleep and she’ll be fine.”

Matt jerked his head towards the door and Dante’s scowl deepened. He got out of the car and ran towards the doors of the building. The second Dante had slammed the car door shut, Matt was driving away.

In the time it took for him to arrive at his place, his concern, his worry, had morphed into downright fear. Stuart, his brother-in-law, was a surgeon. Should he call him? There was no way he could take her to the hospital. The media would be on the story in hours. If they found out about this, the ramifications could be terrible. The impact on her dance company, on her character, catastrophic. It would have to be a private medical facility but, even then, it might still get out. Matt parked his car outside his home and took a minute to breathe.

‘Just love her, faults and all.’ Those had been Nathan’s words, but could Matt do that? The past few days had been an eye-opener, and he wished his eyes had remained closed.

“Matt?” she murmured, sitting up and running a hand over her face.

“We’re here, poppet,” he replied, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning around to regard her with a tight smile on his lips. “Let’s get you inside.”

The rain hadn’t stopped falling. Matt grabbed her bag and helped her out of the car into his house. It was slightly past nine in the morning, although Matt felt as if he’d lived an entire week in the past few hours.

“I need a shower,” she said softly when he pushed open his bedroom door and she glanced at the pristine white sheets, then at her clothes.

“Of course,” Matt murmured.

Madi eased her trainers off outside the door and tiptoed over the large space towards the ensuite. Matt tossed her bag aside and followed her.

She stood still for a moment, as if dazed and unsure of what to do. The expression on her face was the saddest one he’d ever witnessed. Matt went over and started undressing her.

“It’s my fault you know,” she said sharply. “They’re dead because of me.”

Matt paused in his attempt to get the dirty, wet jeans down her legs. He looked up at her. Dante had said she blamed herself. But why?

“Are they?” Matt queried softly. “Why is that, poppet?”

“Promise not to tell anyone?” she asked him, finally letting her gaze fall to his kneeling form. Matt kept his face neutral and nodded slowly. The emptiness in her eyes, God. Was he witnessing her mental breakdown? She seemed so detached, so—

“My teddy Bobo fell, he fell and I wanted him, but I was in my car seat and couldn’t get him. I was small as a child, you know. Daddy wouldn’t give me a booster seat yet, said it wasn’t safe, and I needed to be a certain height,” she explained with a faraway look in her eyes. “I wanted Bobo, screamed for him. I remember kicking the back of Daddy’s seat. M-mommy told me to calm down, to behave.” She started rubbing her pinkie finger. “It’s funny. That memory is so clear in my head. I wished it wasn’t. I wished I had behaved. Maybe then it wouldn’t have happened. I was screaming at them, then we were spinning, over and over. It felt like it would never stop. But it did. And there was so much blood, so much…Mommy said my name, I can still hear her in my head. She was calling me, and I couldn’t get out of the car seat. The seat belt, I couldn’t—”

Matt stood up slowly and cupped her face. “It wasn’t your fault, Madison. That truck driver swerved into the lane you were in and hit your car head-on. It wasn’t your fault.”

He held her empty gaze and, little by little, emotion started seeping back in. Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Matt repeated, as she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, sobbing. Matt had seen women cry. He’d caused quite a few of them to shed tears by his indifference, but Madi’s outpouring of grief broke his heart. It was as if she was sobbing out the pieces of her soul.

He held her tight in his arms while he uttered over and over that it wasn’t her fault. She was cold and Matt, fully dressed, took her over to the shower enclosure and turned the water on. He finished undressing her, then himself, and washed the dirt off her skin. He wished he could wash away her pain that easily. He shampooed her hair, scrubbed every inch of her and, through it all, not once did his blood stir at the sight of her nudity. He wanted her hurt gone.

When they were clean, Matt got her out the shower and efficiently dried them both. He wrapped her in a robe and towel-dried her hair. He even went as far as applying generous amounts of her leave-in conditioner to ensure her curls didn’t tangle.

With a towel around her head and the white bathrobe swamping her, Matt took her to his bed and watched her fall into a deep sleep. Slumber eluded him though as doubts plagued his mind. For the first time, he wondered whether his desire for her, the love he had for her, was enough. For the first time since being in a relationship with her, he wondered if she truly was the one.

<><><>

I woke up to darkness and a warm body draped possessively over mine. Skin on skin. Nice. Carefully I slid out from Matt’s embrace, pausing every so often when he stirred. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I minced to the walk-in closet, pulled clothes on, then quietly exited the bedroom and crept down the dimly lit hallway. I was starving. Ravenous and feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I had survived another meltdown, and I had confessed my secret shame. Why after all these years did I speak of it? I had no idea. But I felt better. Someone else knew. The fear I had after the accident, that I would be blamed, didn’t seem scary anymore. I had survived, and I was freaking starving.

When I got downstairs, I placed my hand over the wall, guiding myself towards the kitchen. I flicked the lights on and blinked owlishly before heading for the fridge. It was fully stocked and my mouth watered as I tried to decide what to make. I grabbed a bottle of chilled water and snapped it open before gulping it down.

“Can I help you, Ms DuMont?”

The low gasp from my mouth accompanied the bottle falling from my hand, followed by a mad scramble to catch it. I did, luckily. Why did people always sneak up on me? Or was it that I wasn’t observant?

“George. Did I wake you?” My eyes travelled the dressing robe he wore over his stripped pyjamas.

“Yes,” he confirmed tartly. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, thanks. I was going to make something to eat. Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s two am, Ms DuMont, far past the time to be eating,” he informed me as he came further into the kitchen.

I grinned at him. “It’s got to be breakfast time somewhere in the world, right?”

George fought his grin and nodded in agreement.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, turning my attention back to the contents of the fridge. “I can make us sandwiches, or there’s gnocchi in here I can make a sauce to go with. Maybe with pancetta?”

George folded his arms. He was giving me his usual starchy look, but it didn’t bug me anymore. That was George being George.

“Gnocchi it is,” I said, already tasting the pancetta on my tongue. George shook his head and moved towards the cupboards, taking out the necessary pots for me.

Instead of leaving me to it, George lingered, watching me go about preparing an early hours meal. We chatted about everything and nothing in low whispers. It was relaxing, chattering away without worrying about the fifteenth of October anymore. Today was a new day. I could start living again.

“Did you like your gift?” George asked as he got two bowls out. “Mr Bradley made sure the contractors got everything done in time.”

I stopped stirring my sauce, curiosity piqued. Contractors? What sort of gift had Matt gotten me? “Quite nice, wasn’t it?”

George looked taken aback. “Nice? Just nice? Half the back rooms have been ripped out and remodelled into that dance studio. Nice. Let me tell you, the dust and dirt were everywhere. I had to call in cleaning staff to get—” He broke off when he realized my open-mouth stare. “Mr Bradley has shown it to you, hasn’t he? Because I would feel terrible if I’ve unwittingly ruined the surprise.”

“He built me a dance studio?” I asked. “Here?”

George was wearing an ill expression on his lined features. “Your sauce is starting to burn, Ms DuMont.”

I pulled the pan off the hob and wiped my hands on the dishcloth. Matt was crazy. I crooked my finger at George. “Show me.”