Unveiled
Page 51
‘You take care, duck.’ She pulls her hand from Nan’s with some determined effort and grasps at air before me, prompting me to give her what she’s looking for. I rest my hand in hers. ‘He’ll be perfect,’ she says, making my head cock in question. ‘He’ll be perfect for you.’
‘Who will?’ I ask on a nervous laugh, flicking my eyes to a serious-looking Nan. She shrugs and turns back towards Enid, who’s drawing a laboured breath of air, ready to enlighten us, but she says no more, dropping my hand and falling back into a deep sleep.
I bite my lip and resist the urge to tell a sleeping Enid that he’s already perfect for me, however weird her surprising claim is.
‘Hmmm.’ Nan’s thoughtful hum drags my attention back to her. She’s watching Enid sleeping with a fond smile. ‘No family,’ Nan says, spiking immediate sadness within me. ‘She’s been here for over a month and not one person has visited. Can you imagine being so alone?’
‘No,’ I admit, contemplating such loneliness. I may have cut myself off from the world, but I was never lonely. Never alone. Miller was, though.
‘Surround yourself with people who love you,’ Nan says to herself, yet the intention for me to hear is obvious, although her reason for such a statement isn’t. ‘Take me home, sweetheart.’
I waste no time gesturing my arm for Nan to slip hers through and start a slow, easy walk to the exit. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ I ask, just as Miller rounds the corner, his luscious lips displaying a hint of a smile. He isn’t fooling me. I caught the stressed eyes on his impassive face before he spotted us.
‘Here he is!’ Nan sings. ‘All suited and booted.’
Miller relieves me of Nan’s bag and takes up position on the other side of her, offering his arm, too, which she takes on a happy smile. ‘The rose between two thorns,’ she titters, forcing us both closer to her with a surprisingly firm tightening of her arms. ‘Toodle-oo!’ she shouts at the nurse’s station as we pass. ‘Farewell!’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Taylor!’ They all laugh as we escort my grandmother from the ward, and I smile my apology to the team of medical staff who’ve endured days of her sass. I’m not really that sorry, only for not being the one on the constant receiving end of that Taylor sass.
It takes us a while, but we eventually make it out of the hospital, Miller and I both happy to amble along, while Nan has to be constantly held back from virtually sprinting from the place she’s seen as a prison for the duration of her stay. I haven’t looked at Miller once in the twenty minutes it’s taken us to make it to his car, though I’ve felt his eyes directed at me across Nan’s head on more than one occasion, probably gauging my thought process. If Nan wasn’t between us, I’d tell him exactly what my thought process is and save him the trouble. It’s simple. I don’t care and I don’t want to know. Whatever he and William may have spoken about, whatever plans they’ve made, I don’t want to know. The fact that Miller is probably fully armed in the knowledge department isn’t in the least bit piquing my curiosity as to what that knowledge might be. I have, however, silently concluded that William knew Gracie Taylor was here and he chose not to tell me. I’m not sure whether that should make me angry with him or grateful.
‘Well, would you look at Mr Swanky Pants!’ Nan laughs when Miller opens the back door of his Merc for her and swoops his arm in guidance – all gentlemanly. He’s taking Nan’s delusional conclusion that he’s always such a gent and playing on it. But I’ll let it pass, if only to keep that incredible smile gracing her face. I toss him slightly narrowed eyes, fighting to prevent matching his amusement as he helps Nan lower to the seat. ‘Oh, I say!’ she gasps, getting comfy on the backseat. ‘I feel like royalty!’
‘You are, Mrs Taylor,’ Miller replies as he shuts the door, hiding the satisfied blush that’s just crept onto her cheeks. Now that Nan’s out of the way, it’s just me and Miller, and I seriously dislike the thoughtful look on his face. Where’s all the impassiveness gone? I love and hate all of these facial expressions. ‘William would like to speak to you,’ he whispers, quite wisely, too, given Nan’s a mere foot away, albeit behind a closed door.
I’m quickly on my guard. ‘Not now,’ I hiss, knowing that I probably mean never. ‘Right now I have one priority.’
‘I concur,’ Miller agrees without delay, surprising me. He moves in and dips to get our faces level. Reassuring blue eyes haul me into their safety and comfort, make my arms twitch at my sides. ‘Which is why I told him you’re not ready.’
I give up fighting to keep them by my sides and throw them over his shoulders in gratitude. ‘I love you.’
‘We established that long ago, sweet girl,’ he whispers, pulling back to get my face in view. ‘Let me taste you.’
Our mouths meet and my feet leave the ground, our tongues falling into a beautifully delicate pace of swirling, each of us nipping at each other’s lips when we pull back, time and time again. I’m lost, consumed, oblivious to our very public surroundings . . . until a sharp rapping jolts me back to the here and now and we both pull apart. Miller huffs a quiet, disbelieving shot of laughter as we turn towards the window of his car. I can’t see Nan’s face – the blacked out windows are preventing it, but if I could, I know she’d be pushed up against the glass, grinning.
‘A treasure,’ Miller mutters, releasing me and straightening me out before beginning on himself. It’s been some time since he’s fixed his suit, but he’s making up for it now, taking a good minute to pull and smooth every part of him into place while I watch on a smile, comforted by one of his finicky ways, even reaching up and dusting off a piece of lint that he’s missed. He smiles in response, reaches for my nape, and pulls me forward, planting a kiss on my forehead.
Rap rap rap!
‘Give me strength,’ he mumbles against my skin, then releases me and turns a scowl onto the window of his car. ‘Beautiful things should be savoured, Mrs Taylor.’
Nan’s answer to that is another round of taps on the window, prompting Miller to bend and get up close to the window, his scowl still firmly in place. My amusement increases when he raps right back. I hear Nan’s gasp of shock, even through the closed door, not that it has any effect on my part-time gentleman. He raps again.
‘Miller, behave,’ I laugh, loving the irritation flaming in him under my grandmother’s pesky behaviour.
‘She really is royal.’ He straightens and slips his hands into his pockets. ‘A royal . . .’
‘Pain in the arse?’ I finish for him when he pulls up, guilt jumping onto his face.
‘Sometimes,’ he agrees, making me laugh. ‘Let’s get her ladyship home, shall we?’ He nods towards the other side of the car and I follow his instruction, taking myself to the passenger side and jumping in the back with Nan.
When I’ve got my seat belt on, I look across and find her fiddling with hers, so I lend a hand and secure it for her. ‘There,’ I say, resting back in my seat and watching as she takes in the sumptuous interior of Miller’s posh car. She reaches up and presses a button that puts a light on, then turns it off again. She fiddles with the air-con buttons between the footwells, humming her approval. She pushes a button that sends her window down, then pushes it again to close it back up. Then she finds an armrest between us and pulls it down, sliding the runner back to reveal cup holders. Old, amazed navy eyes fly up to mine and she forms an O with her marshmallow lips. ‘I bet the queen’s car isn’t as posh as this.’ Her comment should make me laugh, but I’m too busy flicking nervous eyes to Miller in the rearview mirror, trying to gauge his reaction to all this messing of his perfect world.
‘Who will?’ I ask on a nervous laugh, flicking my eyes to a serious-looking Nan. She shrugs and turns back towards Enid, who’s drawing a laboured breath of air, ready to enlighten us, but she says no more, dropping my hand and falling back into a deep sleep.
I bite my lip and resist the urge to tell a sleeping Enid that he’s already perfect for me, however weird her surprising claim is.
‘Hmmm.’ Nan’s thoughtful hum drags my attention back to her. She’s watching Enid sleeping with a fond smile. ‘No family,’ Nan says, spiking immediate sadness within me. ‘She’s been here for over a month and not one person has visited. Can you imagine being so alone?’
‘No,’ I admit, contemplating such loneliness. I may have cut myself off from the world, but I was never lonely. Never alone. Miller was, though.
‘Surround yourself with people who love you,’ Nan says to herself, yet the intention for me to hear is obvious, although her reason for such a statement isn’t. ‘Take me home, sweetheart.’
I waste no time gesturing my arm for Nan to slip hers through and start a slow, easy walk to the exit. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ I ask, just as Miller rounds the corner, his luscious lips displaying a hint of a smile. He isn’t fooling me. I caught the stressed eyes on his impassive face before he spotted us.
‘Here he is!’ Nan sings. ‘All suited and booted.’
Miller relieves me of Nan’s bag and takes up position on the other side of her, offering his arm, too, which she takes on a happy smile. ‘The rose between two thorns,’ she titters, forcing us both closer to her with a surprisingly firm tightening of her arms. ‘Toodle-oo!’ she shouts at the nurse’s station as we pass. ‘Farewell!’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Taylor!’ They all laugh as we escort my grandmother from the ward, and I smile my apology to the team of medical staff who’ve endured days of her sass. I’m not really that sorry, only for not being the one on the constant receiving end of that Taylor sass.
It takes us a while, but we eventually make it out of the hospital, Miller and I both happy to amble along, while Nan has to be constantly held back from virtually sprinting from the place she’s seen as a prison for the duration of her stay. I haven’t looked at Miller once in the twenty minutes it’s taken us to make it to his car, though I’ve felt his eyes directed at me across Nan’s head on more than one occasion, probably gauging my thought process. If Nan wasn’t between us, I’d tell him exactly what my thought process is and save him the trouble. It’s simple. I don’t care and I don’t want to know. Whatever he and William may have spoken about, whatever plans they’ve made, I don’t want to know. The fact that Miller is probably fully armed in the knowledge department isn’t in the least bit piquing my curiosity as to what that knowledge might be. I have, however, silently concluded that William knew Gracie Taylor was here and he chose not to tell me. I’m not sure whether that should make me angry with him or grateful.
‘Well, would you look at Mr Swanky Pants!’ Nan laughs when Miller opens the back door of his Merc for her and swoops his arm in guidance – all gentlemanly. He’s taking Nan’s delusional conclusion that he’s always such a gent and playing on it. But I’ll let it pass, if only to keep that incredible smile gracing her face. I toss him slightly narrowed eyes, fighting to prevent matching his amusement as he helps Nan lower to the seat. ‘Oh, I say!’ she gasps, getting comfy on the backseat. ‘I feel like royalty!’
‘You are, Mrs Taylor,’ Miller replies as he shuts the door, hiding the satisfied blush that’s just crept onto her cheeks. Now that Nan’s out of the way, it’s just me and Miller, and I seriously dislike the thoughtful look on his face. Where’s all the impassiveness gone? I love and hate all of these facial expressions. ‘William would like to speak to you,’ he whispers, quite wisely, too, given Nan’s a mere foot away, albeit behind a closed door.
I’m quickly on my guard. ‘Not now,’ I hiss, knowing that I probably mean never. ‘Right now I have one priority.’
‘I concur,’ Miller agrees without delay, surprising me. He moves in and dips to get our faces level. Reassuring blue eyes haul me into their safety and comfort, make my arms twitch at my sides. ‘Which is why I told him you’re not ready.’
I give up fighting to keep them by my sides and throw them over his shoulders in gratitude. ‘I love you.’
‘We established that long ago, sweet girl,’ he whispers, pulling back to get my face in view. ‘Let me taste you.’
Our mouths meet and my feet leave the ground, our tongues falling into a beautifully delicate pace of swirling, each of us nipping at each other’s lips when we pull back, time and time again. I’m lost, consumed, oblivious to our very public surroundings . . . until a sharp rapping jolts me back to the here and now and we both pull apart. Miller huffs a quiet, disbelieving shot of laughter as we turn towards the window of his car. I can’t see Nan’s face – the blacked out windows are preventing it, but if I could, I know she’d be pushed up against the glass, grinning.
‘A treasure,’ Miller mutters, releasing me and straightening me out before beginning on himself. It’s been some time since he’s fixed his suit, but he’s making up for it now, taking a good minute to pull and smooth every part of him into place while I watch on a smile, comforted by one of his finicky ways, even reaching up and dusting off a piece of lint that he’s missed. He smiles in response, reaches for my nape, and pulls me forward, planting a kiss on my forehead.
Rap rap rap!
‘Give me strength,’ he mumbles against my skin, then releases me and turns a scowl onto the window of his car. ‘Beautiful things should be savoured, Mrs Taylor.’
Nan’s answer to that is another round of taps on the window, prompting Miller to bend and get up close to the window, his scowl still firmly in place. My amusement increases when he raps right back. I hear Nan’s gasp of shock, even through the closed door, not that it has any effect on my part-time gentleman. He raps again.
‘Miller, behave,’ I laugh, loving the irritation flaming in him under my grandmother’s pesky behaviour.
‘She really is royal.’ He straightens and slips his hands into his pockets. ‘A royal . . .’
‘Pain in the arse?’ I finish for him when he pulls up, guilt jumping onto his face.
‘Sometimes,’ he agrees, making me laugh. ‘Let’s get her ladyship home, shall we?’ He nods towards the other side of the car and I follow his instruction, taking myself to the passenger side and jumping in the back with Nan.
When I’ve got my seat belt on, I look across and find her fiddling with hers, so I lend a hand and secure it for her. ‘There,’ I say, resting back in my seat and watching as she takes in the sumptuous interior of Miller’s posh car. She reaches up and presses a button that puts a light on, then turns it off again. She fiddles with the air-con buttons between the footwells, humming her approval. She pushes a button that sends her window down, then pushes it again to close it back up. Then she finds an armrest between us and pulls it down, sliding the runner back to reveal cup holders. Old, amazed navy eyes fly up to mine and she forms an O with her marshmallow lips. ‘I bet the queen’s car isn’t as posh as this.’ Her comment should make me laugh, but I’m too busy flicking nervous eyes to Miller in the rearview mirror, trying to gauge his reaction to all this messing of his perfect world.
