Page 30 of She Devil
‘So, come on, since I’ve been so honest with you, don’t you think it’s time you were honest with me too?’ he says with a provocative smile, picking up his spoon again.
My chest gives a throb of panic. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean are you ever going to tell me why you really dumped me back then?’
I clear my throat, then clear it again, playing for time until his penetrating gaze becomes too much for me. ‘I told you at the time why it wouldn’t have worked between us long-term,’ I say, my voice sharp with nerves. ‘Our lives were going in different directions and I had to look after my father and sisters after my mother died. My father went completely to pieces. The whole family was in turmoil. I had nothing left for you. For us.’
He leans forward, his expression insistent now. ‘I don’t believe you. I think there was more to it than that.’
My heart thumps harder. Even though we’re outdoors I suddenly feel trapped and claustrophobic, as though a cage has unexpectedly fallen down around me. ‘You can believe what you want. You always did think you were right, no matter what,’ I bite out. He knows I’m lying. I can sense it. I can see it in his eyes and it frightens me.
His gaze remains fixed on mine for what feels like eternity, neither of us saying a word, locked in a battle of wills with neither of us willing to lose. So much passes between us in that silence, so much pain, hurt and regret.
But I can’t back down. I can’t tell him what he wants to know. It would destroy the safety of the world I’ve built around me since that terrible time.
I jump as Jamie suddenly lets out a low growl of frustration and flings his spoon into his bowl of soup, where it makes a great splash, sending droplets of brightly coloured pureed vegetables flying through the air which land on the front of my white suit in a shower of splatters.
I stare down in horror at the mess he’s made of me. My beautiful power suit. He’s ruined it. Just as he ruined my dress. He seems determined to destroy every beautiful thing I own.
‘Shit!’ he says, springing up from his chair. Before I can say anything, he grabs a napkin and starts rubbing at the stains, smearing the bright-red soup further over my front and only making things worse.
I sit there, shaking my head in disbelief. Then I knock his hand away from my chest, stick my fingers into my own bowl of soup and take great pleasure in running them down his white T-shirt, marvelling at the elegantly swirled pattern I make.
He freezes and stares down at what I’ve done, one eyebrow raised.
‘There you go, now we’re even,’ I say.
Without a word he leans over, picks up my bowl of soup and proceeds to pour it from a great height down into my lap. I give a shriek as the cold liquid trickles between my thighs.
‘No,nowwe’re even,’ he says with relish.
‘Right!’ Jumping up from my chair, I make a grab for his bowl and manage to get my fingers onto the rim before he can reach over and stop me. I throw the soup towards him, managing to catch him a little on the face as well as all down his neck and chest.
‘Fuck!’ he shouts as soup drips from his chin and soaks into his clothes.
He’s a mess too.
Such a mess.
Tension hovers in the air between us. At this point it could go either way: tip towards anger or laughter. And we both know it needs to go somewhere.
I start to laugh. I can’t help it. It comes from deep in my belly, radiating upward through my chest and out of my throat in great gusts. And, now I’ve started, I can’t stop. It pours out of me, making me bend at the middle from the force of it, my whole body shaking, my eyes watering. I can barely breathe, and I know my face must be as red as the soup I’m covered in, but for once in my life I don’t care.
Because he’s laughing too.
This moment is perfect in its madness. And it’s the ideal antidote to the tension humming between us.
Finally, my hysteria starts to subside and I straighten up, smoothing my hands down my soup-stained suit, suddenly not caring whether it’s ruined. It was worth it just to feel like that again.
Happy, carefree and alive.
If only for a few minutes.
When I look at Jamie he’s not laughing any more. Instead he’s gazing at me with a puzzled but gratified sort of frown, as if he’s seeing me again for the first time in a long time.
‘There you are,’ he whispers fiercely, reaching up to slide his hand against my jaw, his eyes dancing with delight. And something else—lust. Longing. ‘I knew you were in there somewhere,’ he murmurs before bringing his mouth down hard onto mine.
The last of my laughter dies in my throat as I open my mouth to kiss him back, my heart thundering against my ribs.
