This Man Confessed (39 page)

“No, nothing has changed.”

I
’m a whole hour late for work, but I’m not going to get away with it today. Patrick is here, and he’s standing over my desk when I finally burst through the door.

“Flower?” His round face is questioning “What time do you call this?”

It’s one of the only times I’ve seen a displeased look on my boss’s face. “I’m sorry, Patrick.” I can’t lie and feed him any rubbish on a client appointment, so I leave it at just an apology.

“Ava, I know your life has been moving pretty quickly lately—congratulations, by the way, but I need dedication.” He takes his comb from his inside pocket and sweeps it through his silver mop.

I’m a little shocked.
Congratulations, by the way?
That was hardly sincere. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, because I’m stumped for anything else to say. He goes back to his office, shutting the door behind him.

I collapse in my chair and decide, wisely or not, given my boss’s annoyance, to call Kate. A friendly voice. That’s what I need to hear right now.

She grunts down the phone in greeting.

“Are you still in bed?” I ask, firing up my computer.

“Yep” is the one-word, swift reply that shoots down the phone.

I smile. “Is a certain cute, messy-haired, dimpled-faced man with you?” I pray for a yes, then hear shuffles and definitely a giggle, making my smile widen. I might have wanted to hear a friendly voice, but this will do the trick, too.

“He is.”

“Okay, I’ll go.” I have things to share, but I’m more than happy to hold off.

“No, Ava!”

“What?”

“Wait!” she demands. I hear more shuffling, definitely a few slaps, and then a door close. “I just wanted to know how you got on with Dan.” She’s whispering, for obvious reasons.

That wipes the smile clean from my face. Kate doesn’t need to know the gory details. I’m just as ashamed of my brother as he is of himself. “Fine. It’s fine. He’s gone back to Australia, and Jesse convinced him to keep quiet.”

“I feel responsible.”

“Kate, he’d already worked it out before you made the entrance of the year.” I can joke about it now. “Did you and Sam talk?” I ask tentatively, tapping my pen furiously on the table and wondering if there’s still scope for a bit of head bashing.

“Yes, we talked. He knew about Dan.” She pauses, and I know she’s waiting for a shocked gasp from me, but too much time has passed for me to fake one now.

I try, anyway. “Really?” I practically shriek, receiving three sets of wide, startled eyes shot straight to me from every corner of the office.

“Whatever, Ava,” she mumbles. “I felt like such an idiot. He’s not as daft as I thought.”

“I know,” I agree. “So, everything is okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine. Perfect, in fact.”

I’m smiling again. “No more Manor?”

“No more Manor,” she confirms. “How are you? Throwing up? Achy legs? Any stretch marks?”

“Not yet.” I look down and notice my hand resting on my stomach. “I might not be the only one getting all of those things, though.” I prick her curiosity. There’s no way in hell I’ll ever keep this one to myself.

“Ooohhhh, who’s preggers?” she asks, obviously intrigued. “Not boring Sal?”

“No!” I look over at boring Sal and instantly register that she is, in fact, boring Sal again. I cave on the inside for her.

“Who then?” Kate’s impatient voice pulls me back to her pressing need for answers.

“Coral.”

“Fuck off!”

“No, Coral is pregnant and she claims it’s Jesse’s.”

“
What
?
”

I pull my phone away from my ear, certain that the whole office, perhaps even the whole of London, heard her. “It’s not, though.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair across her kitchen floor. She’s sitting herself down. “How do you know?”

“Because she tried to pass off a peanut as a walnut.”

“What the fucking hell are you on about?”

I sigh and continue filling Kate in while absentmindedly scrolling my e-mail account. “She has a scan picture. She’s claiming it’s a four-month scan, but it’s clearly not and she’s cut all of the evidence away—the date, everything.”

“The crafty fucking bitch! Is she that desperate?”

“Very. She’s four-ish weeks, maximum. I swear to god, Kate, I was this—”

“Hold up!”

“What?”

“Fucking hell!
Sam!
” she shrieks, and I jump in my chair.

“Will you stop yelling in my ear?” I hear thundering footsteps, then the sound of a door crashing open. “Kate?”

“Ava, fucking hell! Drew slept with Coral.”

I sit up in my chair. “When?”

“Oh, about four or five weeks ago.”

“How do you know?”

“Sam told me. Drew was rat arsed; Coral nabbed him. The poor bloke knew nothing about it and probably wouldn’t if Sam hadn’t turned up at his place. He caught her sneaking out.”

“Oh shit.” I’m not scrolling my e-mail casually anymore. I’m tapping my pen wildly on the side of my desk. “How did she think she’d get away with it? I mean, the baby would be three months overdue!”

“Desperate people do desperate things, my friend. Sam’s on the phone to him now. Are you okay? That must have been a shock, even if she was lying.”

“Yeah, I’m used to shock with Jesse.” I brush it off with the apathy the whole episode deserves. Drew won’t be able to, though.

“Good. You need to be careful now, don’t you?” She asks it sweetly as a question, but there is a tinge of menace in there, too.

“I do, I am, and I will. Listen, I’d better go. Lunch tomorrow?”

“Perfect. Call me.” She hangs up, and I cast a skeptical gaze around my office. It’s only ever this quiet when I’m here on my own. I glance over my shoulder to Patrick’s office and see his door shut. I’m dying to call Jesse and offload my new knowledge, but I would be pushing my luck further and I know Sam will be calling him up, anyway. I should prep for my meeting with Ruth Quinn.

At eleven thirty, Patrick still hasn’t come out of his office and I’m feeling nervous when I knock on his door. I wait for his okay and when it comes, I poke my head around and smile sweetly. “I have an appointment with Miss Quinn.”

“Fine. You need to be back by two. We’re having a meeting.” His tone is clipped, and he doesn’t look at me, choosing to keep his attention on his computer screen.

“Okay.” I shut the door with care and leave the office bewildered and concerned, being greeted by a moped courier at the door. “Delivery for Ava O’Shea.” His voice is muffled through his helmet.

“That’s me.” I murmur apprehensively, the sound of my maiden name sending a chill down my spine.

“Sign here, please.” He thrusts a clipboard under my nose and I sign away, taking an envelope from him when I’m done. I don’t want to accept this delivery, but when John pulls up, the courier jumps on his bike and zooms off down the road without another muffled word. It’s not until John leans over and pushes the passenger door open that I realize I’m frozen in place, still with the envelope in my hand.

“What you got there, girl?” he asks, his smooth, shiny forehead creasing above his wraparounds.

“Nothing.” I stuff it in my bag and jump in, pulling my seatbelt on. “What are you doing here?”

He pulls straight into the traffic and starts the therapeutic tapping of his palm on the steering wheel. “You have an appointment, girl.”

My inquisitive eyes bore into the side of his head. He can’t possibly know that because I’ve ensured my work diary remains under lock and key, just like my mouth. “How do you know?” For the first time since I’ve known this big, menacing black man, he looks awkward, and he’s refusing to look at me. “He’s making you follow me, isn’t he?” His tapping increases momentum, and I give him time to think about his answer, but I can tell by the look on his face that he knows I’ve got him.

“Girl, someone tried to ram you off the road. You cannot blame him for being a little jittery. Where am I heading?”

“Lansdowne Crescent,” I reply. “So what’s your excuse for all of the other times he’s stalked me?”

“I don’t have one. Those times he was just a crazy motherfucker.”

I laugh and John joins me, his neck retracting just how I like it. “Don’t you get bored?” I ask, thinking that he must see me as a royal pain in the arse. This definitely can’t be in his job description.

“No.” He quits with the laughing and turns to me, smiling fondly. “That crazy motherfucker isn’t the only one who cares about you, girl.”

I have to press my lips together before my stupid pregnant emotions get the better of me and I let out an embarrassing sob. “I don’t mind you, either.” I shrug his affection off because I know he’ll appreciate that, and his quiet laugh confirms it.

“I’ve been reading,” he informs me, leaning over and opening the glove compartment. He takes a book out and hands it to me before resuming tapping the wheel.

I read the title, and then again to make sure I have it right. “Bonsai trees?”

“That’s right.”

I start flicking through the pages, admiring the pretty little trees and imagining John bent over one, delicately clipping at the fragile branches. “It’s a hobby?”

“Yes, very relaxing.”

“Where do you live, John?” I don’t know where the question comes from. John and bonsai trees would never be two things that I would naturally put together, but with this strange, new knowledge, I’m compelled to know.

“Chelsea, girl.”

“Alone?”

“All alone.” He laughs. “Me and my trees.”

I’m astonished. I would never have thought it. This is a man who on first sight I thought was a member of the mafia—this huge, black, mean-looking geezer, who patrols The Manor, keeps overexcited men, and perhaps women, too, in their place, and now I find out that he lives with trees? Fascinating.

“Are you going to wait outside for me?” I ask John playfully when he pulls up outside Ruth Quinn’s house.

His gold tooth flashes, and he reaches over to take the book. “I might read a few pages, girl.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.” I jump out and dash up the path to Ruth’s home.

The front door is open before I even knock. “Ava!” She sounds far too happy to see me.

“Hi, Ruth. How are you?”

“Fabulous! Come in.” She looks over my shoulder on a slight frown and ushers me in quickly.

I let her be curious because explaining John will take too long, and I don’t want to stay any longer than is necessary. I need to keep this as professional as possible.

She leads me down the corridor, into the kitchen. “Did you have a good weekend?” she asks.

Brilliant and awful. It seems like light-years ago. “Yes, thank you, and you?” I settle myself at the huge oak table and get my files out.

“Wonderful,” she sings, taking a seat next to me.

I smile politely and open her file. “So, what did you want to discuss? Cupboards?”

“No, don’t worry about the cupboards. We’ll stick with the original. Now, the wine fridge, remind me: did we opt for the single or double width?”

If that is what she’s dragged me here for, I will be most upset. “Double,” I say slowly. I’m not at all comfortable. She could have called for both of those points. My phone starts ringing from my bag, but I ignore it, even though it’s “Angel.” I don’t plan on being here for much longer, and there is absolutely no need for me to be, so I can call him back as soon as I escape. “Was that all?” I ask dubiously. My phone rings off, then starts again immediately.

“Do you want to get that?” she asks, looking at my bag.

“It’s fine.” I shake my head mildly. She doesn’t know it, but it’s in disbelief. “Was there anything else Ruth?”

“Urm…” She looks frantically around the kitchen. “Yes, I’ve changed my mind about the walnut floor,” she says, dragging a magazine over from the other side of the table. “I quite like this.” She points to an oak alternative on the cover of the magazine.

I start to voice my reasons for sticking to walnut when my phone cuts me off. My shoulders sag.

Ruth pushes my bag toward me. “Ava, perhaps you should answer. Whoever it is obviously wants to talk to you.”

I close my eyes in a give-me-strength gesture and reach into my bag to retrieve my phone before getting up from the table and making my way into the hall. “Jesse, I’m in a meeting. Can I call you back?”

“I’m having Ava withdrawal,” he murmurs. “Are you having Jesse withdrawal?”

“Is there a cure?” I ask on a grin, knowing damn well what the cure is.

“Yes, it’s called constant contact. What time are you finishing work?”

“I’m not sure. I have a meeting at two with Patrick.” I glance over my shoulder and see Ruth flicking through the design magazine. She may not be paying any attention, but she must be able to hear me. Maybe that’s a good thing. I’m happily married, most of the time. And I’m pregnant, too. Should I slip that into the conversation?

“Oh good. You’re finally going to see through on your promise to talk with Patrick,” Jesse says.

“Yes.”

“Well, it won’t take that long, will it?”

“No, probably not, but it doesn’t matter because John will be waiting for me, won’t he?” I answer his question with my own.

“He will.” I can hear his grin in his tone. “How are my babies, lady?”

“
Our
babies are fine.” I realize immediately what I’ve just said, and I also notice my hand caressing my belly. “Jesse, I need to get back. I’ll see you later.”

“What am I supposed to do until later?”

“Go for a run.”

“I already did that,” he counters proudly. “Maybe I’ll go shopping.”

“Yes, go shopping.” I encourage him, hoping he lands in Babies “R” Us and doesn’t emerge until gone six. “I love you.” I end the conversation on something that’ll placate him for a little longer.

“I know.” He sighs.

“Bye.” I smile and hang up, making my way back to the kitchen. “Sorry about that.” I wave my phone as I sit back down. “So, oak then?”

She looks lost in thought as she studies me for a while, and then her stare drops to my tummy, which is tucked neatly under the table. I know she must have heard.

I start scribbling down a load of complete nonsense. “I’ll get a price on the oak. The fitting and labor will be the same, but I’ll check it out, anyway. Are you sure we’re ditching the walnut?” I wait for her confirmation, but when I’ve run out of things to write and she still hasn’t answered, I look up and find her still daydreaming. “Ruth?”