THE TROUBLE WITH PAPER PLANES

“I don’t really know. He was cagey. You know how he is,” she smiled tightly.

 

Unfortunately, I did know. I was less inclined to call him ‘cagey’ and more inclined to say he was suffering from an alcohol-induced blackout, but I didn’t push it. She had suffered enough already.

 

“Let me know if he gives you any trouble, okay? I can be over there in minutes.”

 

“Thanks, love. I’m sorry I had to drag you into it last night, I know how nasty he can be.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, I can handle it – honestly. But this pushing you around shit has to stop.”

 

“I know. I’m going to try and talk to him about it again. I hope you managed to get a good sleep?”

 

“I slept fine,” I lied. “What about you? How’s your cheek? It looks pretty sore.”

 

She touched her cheekbone with her fingertips. “It’s fine. Icing it last night helped with the swelling and the bruising. It’s still a bit tender, but I’m sure it’ll be okay in a couple of days.”

 

I was sure it would be too, but that was hardly the point. I was about to suggest we look into some kind of residential drug and alcohol programme for Alex, when she completely blind-sided me.

 

“Maia told me she moved in with you.”

 

I nodded, panicking slightly. It was hardly a secret, but I had wanted to tell her myself, although I hadn’t exactly told Maia that. I wasn’t sure what she would think. I wasn’t sure what anyone would think. I’d only known Maia a week, after all. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried.

 

She smiled up at me, tears gathering in her eyes. “I think it’s wonderful. You two really seem to have hit it off. You make each other happy, and that makes me happy, too.”

 

I nodded. She had no idea how much I had needed her to say that. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. I pulled her into another hug, holding on tight.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered over the top of her head.

 

“You deserve to be happy, love.”

 

God, I hoped so.

 

I looked up to see Maia standing in the kitchen doorway, hands clasped behind her back.

 

Bridget pulled away gently, wiping her eyes. “Let me get your coffee and the eclairs ready for you. I believe you have a hot date.” She glanced over her shoulder at Maia, then turned back to me with a smile. “He’s really looking forward to meeting her.”

 

“I know. I’m kinda looking forward to him meeting her, too,” I admitted.

 

“She’s a bit nervous,” she whispered, winking. “You might want to reassure her while I get everything together for you. I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

I could feel myself blushing. Damn it. I saw Bridget squeeze Maia’s hand as she walked through the back, into the kitchen. As soon as she disappeared, I held out my hand to Maia. She smiled, walking towards me and straight into my arms.

 

Sometimes I had to pinch myself. There was no hesitation, no reluctance on her part, not anymore. She came to me willingly, openly, seeking me out. Did she know how deliriously happy that made me? We had entrusted ourselves to each other, letting our souls guide us. It was a revelation for me, and I’m sure, considering her past – or lack of one – it was for her, too.

 

She settled into my embrace as if she belonged there. Hand, meet glove.

 

“He’s gonna love you,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head and pulling her closer. “But not as much as I do.”

 

 

 

 

 

I WAS RIGHT. HE DID love her. From the moment Henry laid eyes on Maia – recovering quickly, thanks to my previous conversation with him about how much she looked like Em – I could tell he was under her spell.

 

He got the side plates out of the cupboard. In all of my Thursday afternoon visits, we had never once used plates. We usually ate straight from the paper bags, on the kitchen table. But not today. Today, we ate from delicately patterned china that I couldn’t even remember seeing before. The Good China, no doubt. Glenda would’ve approved.

 

“So, Heath tells me you’ve been doing some travelling around,” Henry said, pouring her a cup of tea from the china teapot that matched the plates.

 

Another thing I didn’t realise he had. His everyday teapot was an aluminium one, all dinged up from years of use. God knew where he’d been hiding this one, but it looked pristine. I smiled to myself. He was bringing out the big guns for her.

 

Maia glanced over at me, and I could tell she was uncomfortable about lying to him. I wanted to squeeze her hand or otherwise show her some moral support, but we were sitting opposite each other. Instead, I smiled, silently encouraging her.

 

“That’s right,” she said hesitantly, doing her best to look relaxed.

 

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