Page 40 of Take My Breath Away
The northbound platform of the Northern line is busy and when the train pulls in it’s packed. We get separated, but he’s in my line of sight. I want to know why he’s suddenly cold, why the muscles around his jaw have tightened, why his eyes are unreadable.
And then it comes to me, it hits me right between the eyes.
He can’t be thinking thatI’mthinking…
The suggestion that James’ home was the perfect place for me to set up had been a joke. Rory and Jack knew it, I knew it, and I’d assumed James knew it too. But what if he thinks it’s what I’m angling for?
Working from home, even though at the moment I don’t technically have one… Jame’s huge kitchen in an affluent area…
He can’t be thinking I’d seriously consider asking him if …?
No, I’d never do that. I’d never put him in the position to refuse, or me to be refused. I need to shove that idea right out of his head, even though there’s a little bit of me thinking itwouldbe perfect and not just for reasons connected with elaborate tiered cakes, buttercream, and vanilla pods.
As soon as we’re out of the underground station, I launch in.
“What they were saying, about your kitchen being perfect for me to start up, it was only a joke so don’t worry that you’ll find me refusing to leave when the time comes.” I’m laughing as I say it, because I want to keep this lighthearted. “But they’ve got a good point, though, looking first and foremost for somewhere to live and making it my base. I need a decent kitchen, it goes without saying that’s the key, but the more I think of it the more it makes sense, and that means the location won’t be such an issue. I could find somewhere a little bit out of town, maybe further inland. It’d certainly be cheaper, which would make my parents happy.”
The idea’s taken hold and I’m running with it so it takes me a while before I realise James hasn’t said anything as we stride towards his house, with me having to almost run to keep up with him.
“James?” I say, as we get inside and close the door, “are you okay? Honestly I don’t want you to think I was taking what they said seriously, about setting up here I mean. It really was just a joke.”
“I realise that, Perry. I’m not stupid.” James hangs up his overcoat in the hall cupboard, banging the door closed with more force than it warrants. I have no idea why he’s suddenly so distant — it was his idea to introduce me to his friends, after all.
“I’m sorry if you were embarrassed by it, or if it made you uncomfortable.” I honestly don’t know what else to say.
“I was neither embarrassed nor uncomfortable.” He sighs, and as he does so the ice that’s marked his face thaws a little. He gives me a vague smile, which is something, but I can’t pretend to read it. “In fact, what they said made a lot of sense. This area is perfect for you, and my very large, very underused kitchen is also perfect, and would give you everything you’d need to set up from home.”
“But this isn’t my home.”
“No. Do you want a drink?”
“What? Erm, yes. Yes, please.”
His abrupt change of subject has left me off balance. This wonderful house that deep inside does feel like home, isn’t, and his starknois a blatant reminder of that.
I follow him into the kitchen, and even though it’s the last thing I should be doing, that doing it is so, so stupid, it’s impossible for me tonotlook at it in a new light because itisperfect, just as James said. But it isn’t mine, because this isn’t my home…
“What’s that?” I say, blinking at James. He’s standing by the counter where he’s holding the kettle up, and watching me.
“I said, what do you want?”
I can feel heat flood my face, because his slightly narrowed eyes tell me he knows exactly what it is I’m thinking, and that makes me feel, I don’t know, a little cheap, a little shabby, because maybe he does think I’m looking at him and his home as something I can get something from. There’s no way on earth I’ll let him believe that of me. I clear my throat.
“A cup of tea, please. James,” I say again because I really do want to clear the air between us. “They weren’t being serious. I want my own place, somewhere I can reset my life and strike out on my own.”
“Somewhere by the sea.”
“Well, yes, that’s the idea,”
“Why? Why go somewhere where you have no connections of any kind?”
He’s leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, the drinks forgotten. I feel like there’s a big spotlight on me and I hesitate to answer. But I’m also annoyed by his reaction because I’ve done everything I can to make it clear that his home, his sodding but perfect kitchen, plays no role in any of my plans.
“Because I want and need a new start. You’ve seen why. I’ve always been drawn to the coast so why not try and make it a reality now my life’s become a kind of blank slate that I can draw and write on any way I want? Working for myself, working from home — my own home — excites me. Now I’ve got no ties, nobody telling me what I should or shouldn’t be doing, nobody telling me I’m — I’m useless—” I cough the word out, like it’s a gob of phlegm that’s been stuck in my throat. Useless, weak, a waste of space, it’s what Grant called me so many times. He wasn’t the first man to do so, but I’m determined he’ll be the last.
“You’re not those things.” James, in a sudden burst of hot energy, springs away from the counter. The muscles in his face are tight, and an angry frown tugs down his brows. A few strides, and he’s in front of me, his hands clamped to my shoulders. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that about yourself again. Do you understand?”
His eyes drive into me. They seem even greener than normal, more intense, and emerald hard, and I look away.
