“I showed up to the charity gala two days later for the sole purpose of fucking with him and the life he was starting with Leslie. Based on the couple of times I had spoken to Leslie, I knew he hadn’t told her about Marisa. I even flat out asked her when I was really pissed one night. The secretiveness of it all struck a nerve with me. Like what I did was some horrid, dark secret. I felt so incredibly insignificant to my family, it was in that moment I decided everyone would be better off without me.
“It’s crazy to think about now…because Leslie ended up being the one who saved my life. She’s the one who found me and called the paramedics. After all of my horridness toward Theo…toward her…she was the one to walk in and pull me up from rock bottom.” I pause as my eyes tear up over the affection I feel for Leslie. “I have an intense connection with Leslie because of all of that. It’s something I think only her and I fully understand. But it’s special. It’s…meaningful.”
Vi closes her mouth and nods in agreement. “I can’t even imagine. Leslie’s never mentioned a word of any of that.”
“She won’t. She’s loyal and loving in ways that I never knew before I met her. She will always be an important part of my life, which is why I’m so grateful she’s marrying my brother. Calling her family will put a nice label on what I feel for her.” I pause and laugh quietly to myself. “My affection for her is only a fraction of what Theo feels for her. It’s why he’s rushed her into getting married so fast after they had Marisa.”
“They are pretty disgusting to watch, aren’t they?” Vi giggles, but her face drops just as quickly. “I’m glad she was there, Hayden.”
I nod and frown, attempting to blink away my impending emotions. Then I turn back to the box I’m working on. “He’s found his happy ending and I’m grateful I get to be here to witness it. It took a lot of therapy with Theo to make him believe that I had made up my mind about killing myself prior to our row. But we’ve overcome our differences. Now he’s like a proper mate.”
She huffs out a laugh and I turn to catch her smiling. “What?” I ask, curious where her mind just drifted off to.
“I think Booker is my best mate. He’s my youngest brother and…I don’t know…He’s the only one I can talk to openly without pause, ya know?”
I nod because I do understand, but I am curious. “You don’t have any close girlfriends?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. The few I had in school were only interested in my brothers. Plus I always felt uncomfortable around other girls. Except Leslie, surprisingly. I’ve always got on with her.”
“Leslie’s not the typical girlie girl,” I confirm.
“No…She’s the opposite of a bubbly blonde,” she laughs awkwardly, peeling off her gloves and brushing back the few blonde wisps cascading around her face.
I stop what I’m doing and turn more fully to face her. “All right, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned that…What’s going on?”
She frowns and reaches over for a new box. “You tell me.” Her brow arches at me in challenge.
“What do you mean?” I’m honestly completely in the dark, having no idea what she’s going on about.
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “That’s how you described me on Sunday when we were walking back to my flat. It kind of stuck with me I suppose.”
Frowning, I attempt to recall what I said.
“‘A blonde, bubbly distraction’ were your exact words, I believe,” she provides for me.
My features turn grave as realisation dawns on me. “I think you’re missing a couple words.”
She shakes her head and for the first time, I see a look of distress on her face. This bothers me immensely because my characterisation of her was simply a defense mechanism. At that point in time I was trying to get her out of my mind.
Fuck me, I’m a bloody prat.
Her stiff posture causes an ache in my chest. Without thinking, I stand up, strip my gloves off, and stride right over to her. She doesn’t turn to look at me, so I wrench her stool around to face me. When her eyes remain cast downward, I tilt her chin up in an attempt to make her see my sincerity. “I believe I said bright and beautiful if I’m not mistaken.”
She rolls her eyes and purses her lips, still refusing to make eye contact with me. I hate how she’s shutting down because of something daft I said in the moment. I clasp her face, forcing her blues to meet my greys.
“Vi—” I start, attempting to find the perfect words to relay how completely breathtaking she is in so many ways. The wounded vulnerability in her gaze knocks all sense out of my head. When words refuse to come, I lean down and kiss her, willing my lips to do the apologising for me. She groans into my mouth in protest at first. But then she grabs me, holding me tightly against her. Her fingers bite into my tight forearms as her mouth opens, permitting my tongue access to hers.