Release: Symbols of Love, page 22
Except this time, it’s Harry who has a reason to be pissed off.
This doesn’t compare to a spilled drink in a crowded bar. I lied to him and I mislead him more than once. He has every reason to be angry with me. My legs start to feel like there's nothing holding them up.
"Your mother asked me to give you a ride home, and I’m cold, can we please stop all of these dramatics and go?" Camille says coldly.
"Fine. Thank you,” I say before I look back at Aiden.
I use Aiden’s friendly eyes as my touchstone. I'm afraid that if I don’t hang onto him, I won't be able to stop myself from throwing my arms around Harry and begging for his forgiveness. I’d lose my composure and plead with him to give me just one more night like what we had in Ghana.
When I get close enough, Aiden wraps his arm around me protectively and I let my head fall onto his shoulder. I close my eyes and savor the support and kindness he’s giving me for an instant.
Between my family's indifference or willful ignorance and Harry's malevolence, I feel in desperate need of someone to lean on. Unlike the countless other times when I've felt this way, Aiden is actually here for me.
Aiden presses a kiss to my temple and gives my shoulder a squeeze.
"Okay. So, which way to the car?" he asks. When no one moves, and no one speaks, I look at Harry.
If anger could be distilled and given substance—be made into flesh and blood—it would look like Harry does right now. His handsome features are contorted with jealousy.
"This way," Harry clips out. He and Camille walk ahead of us, her arm wrapped around his.
I wrap my arm around Aiden's waist and on legs that feel like they've been injected with lead, I make myself follow them to the car.
Whatever was between us most certainly isn’t water under the bridge. He’s still angry. His anger does nothing to extinguish my feelings for him. I long to feel the safety and the wholeness I once felt in his arms. If I'm not careful he'll have me on my knees, at his feet, begging him to forgive me.
25
Harry
"For all intensive purposes, I'm already running the foundation. But we have to wait for Lady Aston to step down before I can be institutioned.” Camille says.
I have to stop myself from correcting her. On a good day, Camille misuses words in a way that still let me discern her true meaning. On a bad day, I just nod or laugh when her word choices are so off that I have no clue what she's talking about.
Not only does Camille mispronounce and misuse words. Her breath also usually smells like she's been eating shit sandwiches.
It's why I've only kissed her once. It's also one of the myriad of reasons I know this relationship is a non-starter.
Only Freya’s enthusiasm for it have kept me from giving Camille her walking papers. I love my sister. I didn’t have anything to lose by just letting it run its course.
Until now. I’ve got feelings for Lilly. If she hadn't shown up who knows what might have happened. I might have married this woman. Though, after what I’d experienced with Lilly, it would feel like settling.
Now though, none of that matters. Lilly’s here and despite how angry I am at her, even if things don’t work out, I know that it's not fair to keep stringing Camille along. I’ll have to deal with Freya being angry at me.
“What the hell is that smell?" This comes from Lilly's boyfriend. It's about the tenth time he's asked since we've been the car. When he asked the first time, it was whisper that I think he only meant Lilly to hear. Now, he’s a few decibels short of a shout.
"I don't smell anything. And honestly my old factory nerves are very strong." Camille responds, emitting more of whatever noxious gas lives in her gut into the car.
I survive these car ride by riding with the windows down and just pretending that what she's saying makes sense. I’m desperate to put the windows down now, but Aiden seems to be in genuine distress over the smell. I like the idea of him suffering. I press the button on my armrest that locks all of the windows.
My discomfort seems a small price to pay to hear him sounding so put out. Maybe he'll be too sick to fuck Lilly tonight.
My stomach roils at the thought of his hands on her. When she rested her head on his shoulder tonight and closed her eyes as if she was tasting heaven, my mouth had gone dry. Any restraint on my anger had dried up like drops of water hitting a sizzling hot pavement. I knew she could see it, that they all could. I didn’t care.
That comfort should have been mine to give. Instead I was standing holding another woman's hand and watching the woman I want, lean on another man.
My stomach lurches and I can't bear the smell anymore. I roll the window down. My window. He can catch whiffs of air as they blow back if he's lucky enough.
His head appears in the space between my head rest and the rest of my seat as he gulps in the frigid but clean air coming in through my window. "Oh, thank God. There's something wrong with the other windows, they won't budge.” He sounds alarmed in between his huge inhales. Jesus. He’s dramatic. I want to elbow him in the face.
“You need to check your air conditioning system. Maybe someone you pissed off shoveled shite into your car because...ooof" he words are interrupted by a gasp of pain and then I hear Lilly whispering.
"Harry, I'm surprised you kept the windows up this long." Camille says and then with a look that I can only describe as smug, she turns around to say to Lilly and Aiden "He loves fresh air. He always has the window down when we're in the car." And then she pats my knee and says, "Isn't that right honey?"
A sound, very much like a choked laugh, comes from the backseat.
"What is so funny?" Aiden whispers. "Just remembering something Milly said.” Lilly whispers back.
Camille squeezes my leg to get my attention and when I glance at her she mouths through a frown "I think she's drunk."
I only shrug and pray the car ride from hell will be over soon.
In just a few minutes we're ambling up the lane towards Burn House. It's considered one of the greatest remaining houses of Elizabethan England and the approach never fails to steal my breath. Even after more than thirty years of making this drive, I am always in awe that this home, a national treasure is in my family's keeping. That my father's titles 8th Marquess of Exeter, 17th Earl Carlisle, and 18th Baron Burghley, will pass to me one day. Or that my title of the 15th Viscount of Greysmith will pass to my son one day.
If I manage to have a son.
The way things are going, I'm starting to doubt that’s in the cards.
"Harry, where are we going?" Camille asks and before I can enter she turns to the backseat to tell a hiccupping Lilly and a silently suffering Aiden that “I know this road like a house on fire."
I close my eyes as Lilly’s chokes on another laugh.
This whole evening has moved beyond the border of the absurd to being completely ridiculous.
"I'm taking them to the main house and then I'll take you back to the inn." I say with all of the patience and nonchalance that I don't feel.
"They're staying at Castle Burne?" Camille asks not bothering to hide her indignation.
"Yes, all of the bride's family is." I explain, feeling the patience starting to unravel.
"Oh, I didn't realize they were family. I thought Cara’s family was French." She says and it's so unbelievably rude that I don't respond. But Lilly's laughter ends abruptly and for the first time during our car ride I hazard a glance at her in my rearview mirror. She's glaring at the back of Camille's head and I can see her jaw working.
"Harry, did you hear me?" Camille whines.
I can only manage a very terse, "They are her family." I can hear the admonishment in my voice and feel her stiffen in her seat, probably angrier that I said in front of people than that I said it at all.
“I just wanted clarification, no need to be snippy,” she sniffs as she turns her head toward the window. At this point she's lucky I'm not screaming at her to shut up.
I shouldn’t have invited her. It's misleading. It will only make disentangling myself difficult.
We ride the rest of the way with only the noise my tires make as we moved steadily over the snow-covered ground.
We pull up to the house and I hear a “Thank God,” from Aiden. Before I can come to complete stop, he’s hopping out of the car. He stumbles a little as he makes a beeline for the front door.
"Thanks, Aiden. No, I don't need any help getting down." Lilly calls after him sarcastically as she exits the car.
"Thanks for the ride, Harry. Goodnight Camille,” she says softly and just as she gets out, her fingers graze my shoulder and my eyes meet hers in my side mirror. It's just a split second but I see the regret there. I catch a glimpse of the woman who let me see her at her most vulnerable when we made love to her. And then, she’s gone. I watch her walk up to house after the man who she’s chosen to give that to instead.
26
Harry
One of the nicest things about living in the countryside is that we live in villages. And each village has a pub and someone who'll drive you home if you get too pissed to walk or drive safely.
After I drop Camille off, I park my car at my cottage and walk to the Rose and Crown. I can't wait for a nice pulled pint and a plate of real food, and not the salad and grilled chicken they served at the dinner tonight. I'm not surprised to see Louis already there when I walk in. I let the smells of yeasty, musty upholstery wash over me and bask in the uniquely concentrated time warp that exists in English pubs. We used to come here together before he left to pursue his career in set design. Now that he's in Paris, these visits are rare and precious. He waves me over and pulls the stool out as I approach.
"You look like you've just marched in the Battle of the Bulge. What the hell's the matter?" He shouts in my ear.
"You don't want to know and you wouldn't understand. You've had nothing but good luck with women," I say glumly and signal to Ryan the barkeep to give me my regular.
"Hey gov. Haven't seen you in a while. Welcome home." He says as he drops my pint of the ice cold, frothy topped answer to all my problems in front of me.
"Traveling, working but it's good to be home." Villages are like large families. Most people are born, raised and die in their village and the pub is the center of the community. I glance around, "Where are your mates? Simon, and what's the other one's name, Dave?"
"Dean. They're coming. They had children to tuck in and women who needed some attention before they could tramp down to join us."
"Where's Camille?" He asks and when my only response is to take a huge gulp of beer, he bursts out laughing.
"Listen, she seems nice, but it's so obvious you're not into her. And seriously, she's so obviously a title hunter it's a little embarrassing. I think Freya's quest to see you married is misguided."
"Do you? What? You think I'm not the marrying type?"
"Of course, you are. More than I am, even. If I hadn't met Cara, no way would I be letting myself be frogmarched up the aisle." He rubs his hands together and licks his lips in anticipation, completely belying his statement.
It's my turn to laugh.
"Yeah, that woman is forcing you up the aisle." I scoff and laugh at him. "You're running so fast to the altar that she's struggling to keep up with you."
He shrugs and grins like an idiot
"Yeah, I can't wait to marry her. I almost lost her, Harry. I fucked up so badly at one point that she left me and I had to move heaven and earth to get her back. From the first time I kissed her, I knew she was going to wreck me."
"Oh great, is he waxing poetic over Cara again?" Simon's voice interrupts us.
"Does he ever stop?" I joke and clap him on the back.
"Oh, shut up, you two. Dean, you understand, don't you?" He turns to the blond, very tall man whose face I've seen on magazines I subscribe to regularly. He's Mr. GQ, literally.
"Oh, do I ever. I'm not the least bit ashamed of the fact that I'm crazy about my woman and if she hadn't practically pushed me out of the door tonight, I'd be with her instead of you guys."
I roll my eyes. "Great, I'm surrounded by love sick losers. Simon, please chime in to complete the trio." The three of them laugh and I can't control the spurt of envy that wells up in my gut. I want that. The woman I want it with is a deceitful shrew who is with someone else. I know how to pick them.
I look past him, “Where’s your brother?”
“He’s passed out in his room. He’s in his last year of grad school and he’s been working hard.” His voice is tinged with pride.
The two stragglers order their beers and I pull my phone out to check my email quickly. Louis plucks it from my fingers and drops it in his pocket. "Not tonight. Dairy stocks aren't going to plummet if you look away from your phone for a few hours."
"I just need to check on a shipment we're expecting tomorrow." I protest.
"No mate, you don't. What you need to do is drink that pint and then order another one. If Dean, Simon and I can neglect our work for an evening, then so can you." He says pointedly. "Ryan bring us another round and let's chase those with some shots of whisky."
"Damn, Louis - take it easy, tomorrow’s got an early start.” I say to him.
"Well then we better get to drinking.”
"You guys,” Simon exclaims, “we should hook Harry up with Lilly."
“Keep walking, it’s fucking freezing,” Louis says when Simon slows down.
We stumble up the road towards the house. We're all drunk enough to think walking home in this freezing cold is a good idea, and sober enough to actually to do it.
"Isn't she here with someone?" I ask grateful they brought this up because it saved me outing myself.
"Who, Aiden?" Dean asks.
"Yeah, him, " I return and try to keep the jealousy that's eating me alive out of my voice.
"No, he's just a friend from college, at least according to Milly. He lives in Wales with his girlfriend. He's just down for the weekend to see Lilly and keep her company during the wedding."
Relief, washes over me, loosening the knot in my stomach and the ache in my chest that I hadn't let myself acknowledge. And then, it’s back again.
"Let's do it. She's beautiful. Those sisters won the genetic lottery, man." Simon says again.
"Well, that would be a great idea except...I don't know man. She's nearly impossible to get to know," Dean says.
I almost say, “tell me about it.” But I catch myself. "How so?" I ask casually, but I shove my hands deeper into my pockets to keep myself from shaking Dean when he takes more than a few minutes to respond.
"Well... Even though she’s not around, they all rely on her to be the one who holds it together. Sort of the binding of a book, invisible but vital,” Dean mutters and then laughs to himself like he's impressed by his own joke.
"What the fuck does that mean?" Louis asks before I can.
Simon chimes in, “He means that she's always there for everyone. Like when the family is flipping out because something crazy is going down, she stays calm and she holds their hands while they freak out and then is ready with a smile when they are. Addie says she feels like she doesn't really know Lilly. At least not the way she knows Milly, but it's almost as if Lilly wants it that way."
“She's a total mystery. Milly said something happened and none of them know what. They always spent Christmas in Maryland. Her mother invited all of the people who didn't have families locally and weren't able to go home to join them. It was a tradition. And then one year Lilly left without saying goodbye and didn't come home for five years. She refused to say why. But she’s had “plans” every Christmas since. These planned family vacations are the only time they see her.” He shrugs and the dismissiveness way they’re all talking about this pisses me off.
"And none of them have bothered to ask her what the hell happened? Seems a little callous." I ask, my shock showing.
"You don't know the family's history, man." Simon's voice tinged with a defensive tone. "The last couple of years have been a rollercoaster. Addie said Lilly always seemed fine, but Addie wasn't home much either so, I don't think she thought much of Lilly ghosting."
"She didn't think much of her sister's sudden refusal to come home? And I know some of their history, thanks.” I say and rush on before they can ask me how. “Most of it had to do with their dad being gone. But their mom was around, what did she do?"
"Harry. Relax.” Simon puts his hands up as if to ward of an attack.
“I’m relaxed,” I snap.
“Yeah, you look really relaxed.” Louis, punches me lightly in the arm,“You don’t even know her.”
“He’s been staring at her like he knows her.” Simon mutters.
“Fuck off. I have not.” I growl him.
“Fellas, lay off,” Dean interjects. "We’ve all had too much to drink and I’m not up for breaking up any fights.”
“Who’s fighting?” Louis, hooks an arm around Simon’s neck and gives him a mock jab in the gut.
They laugh and I join in. But, really my outburst pisses me off. I’m agitated as fuck. I don’t know what to do about Lilly. I can’t ignore it though. She apologized tonight and I could hear the real regret in her voice.
Dean pats me on the shoulder as we all start walking again. We fall into a companionable silence and Simon and Louis outpace us, and soon Dean and I are walking alone.
The sounds of the country keep up company. I listen to the chirping of the chickadee, each inhale is heavy with the aroma of tree sap, aspen and poplar leaves. The crunch of the dense but light layer of snow crunching under our feet.
"She did a number on you, huh?" He says empathetically.
"Who?" I stop and look at him. Did he guess about me and Lilly?
“Is it the girl you were with tonight?” His breath comes out in huge white puffs and the dark, moonless night creates a stark contrast.
“God, no. I regret inviting her.” I shake my head vehemently. And just to be absolutely clear, I say it again. “It’s not her.”
