The Pitch: City Love 2 (20 page)

“Maddy?”

I returned my focus to Cate and gave her a small smile. “It’s a bit early for love, isn’t it? I care about him very much and I’m most certainly attracted to him.”

“You’re holding back.”

Everyone’s eyes darted to Scarlett. She was leaning back in her chair, glass of wine in hand.

“Oh?” I replied, archly. “Because you’re an expert on love now?”

“No. I just say it how it is.”

“And that is?”

“You never do things by halves.”

Cate nodded, which annoyed me. Since when did Scarlett and Cate agree on anything, especially my love life?

“It’s taken you four years to get involved in another serious relationship,” Cate mulled out loud. “You must have deep feelings for him – otherwise you’d still be single.”

I didn’t say anything. Instead, I set down my glass of wine and stood. I placed my hands on the balcony railing and let the breeze caress my face.

“She’s ignoring us now, so I must be right,” Scarlett said.

“You’re not always right,” I said without turning around. If I continued to focus on the way the breeze was toying with my hair and cooling my face, I could avoid the lump forming in my chest.

“So how do you explain the guitar then?” Scarlett asked.

“What guitar?” Christa asked, who had been quiet up until now.

“It’s a gift.” I knew I should have made more of an effort to conceal it. I’d picked the guitar up during my lunch hour and ended up bringing it with me on the train. It was currently sitting in Christa and Cate’s lounge room.

“Have you seen it? Hand-made. She won’t tell me how much it cost, so it must be worth a fortune,” Scarlett deduced. “We all know Maddy expresses her feelings in practical ways.”

My grip tightened on the railing. She was really starting to piss me off.

“Why a guitar?” Christa asked.

I exhaled a long breath. It would just be easier to answer her, and then I could hopefully change the subject. “Paul used to be a guitarist. He played in bands when he was younger. His guitar got damaged when he moved out after the divorce and he hasn’t played since.”

“So you’re giving him one for Christmas.” Christa came to stand beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “That’s a lovely gift.”

“And it means our Queen of Practical is falling in love …” Scarlett taunted.

I turned and glared at her. “And what exactly do you know about love, Scarlett?”

“You’re just pissed off because I’m right.”

I took a step toward her chair, so my six-foot frame was looking down at her. “You know how to run from love, you mean?” I tossed back mildly.

Scarlett’s eyes rounded. I knew I’d rattled her, which was a rarity. She smiled at me serpent-like. “That may be, so it means I can recognize when someone is holding back.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “If anyone is holding back, it’s you. You make every excuse in the book to avoid relationships, to avoid any sort of deep and meaningful connection. At least I’m not a coward, I’m actually putting myself out there.”

I heard Cate inhale sharply. Scarlett’s face remained expressionless and she stood deliberately, forcing me to take a step back. We watched as she reached down to grab her glass, then threw her head back and swallowed the rest of the wine. When she was finished she surveyed us coldly.

“How about everyone just stays the fuck out of my life for a change?” She stormed from the balcony, the three of us staring after her in open-mouthed shock. Scarlett
never
capitulated by walking out.

“What the hell …” Christa muttered.

I crossed my arms. “She has feelings for John.”

“Oh.” Cate blinked and looked as if she was having a hard time trying to digest the concept.

Christa moved closer and put a hand on my shoulder. “Should I go after her?”

“No. She needs to brood. Give her some space for now.”

Cate bent down and picked up Scarlett’s glass. “Kind of puts a downer on our Christmas drinks.”

“Sorry.”

“You were hard on her,” Christa added. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say she had a point and you didn’t like it.”

I looked at my childhood friend. The problem was, Christa did know me better. “Maybe. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. She’s been putting John through hell.”

“So you think she deserved it?” Cate pressed.

The question was Cate’s polite way of suggesting I’d been a bitch. I let out a short huff. “Don’t worry, I’ll apologize to her in the morning. She won’t talk to me right now anyway.”

Cate looked happier. “Please make sure you do.”

“I will,” I promised.

“So are you holding back with Paul?” Christa pressed.

“Not really.”

“Which means a little bit,” Christa concluded.

Cate gave me a quizzical look. “But why?”

I sighed. “Maybe because I’m waiting.”

“Waiting?” Cate asked. “What for?”

“For Paul to feel the same way I do.”

I slept in on Christmas morning. I was officially on holidays and didn’t have to be at my parents’ place until dinner. I planned on having a lazy day at home and maybe going for a walk in the afternoon.

I awoke to a text from Paul.
Merry Christmas, beautiful. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.

I tossed the phone back onto my bed. As much as I hated to admit it, Scarlett had been right. I
was
holding back, which was unusual for me. Once I became committed to something, or someone, I rarely wavered. Was I in love with him?

Of course you are.

I sighed and looked guiltily at the guitar sitting in the corner of my room. I knew the guitar was more than a Christmas gift, just like Scarlett had said. It was my way of showing him how important he was to me and how much I cared for him. It also represented my cowardice.

Normal people would just say I love you. It wasn’t that I found those three words difficult. I was worried. If I spoke them out loud, how would they be received?

I pushed my thoughts away and resolved not to think about it anymore, at least until after Christmas. In an effort to do just that, I picked up my phone again and quickly typed Paul a reply.
Merry Christmas to you too. You can unwrap me tomorrow xo

We hadn’t discussed Christmas gifts and I had no idea if he was planning on giving me anything. I wanted to surprise him with the guitar, so I figured distracting him with images of unwrapping me would make the gift even more unexpected.

My phone beeped.

Damn right. In the meantime, you need to unwrap yours.

I stared at my phone in confusion. What was he talking about? My mobile beeped again.

Go and open your front door.

What on earth? I sat up in bed, my heart pounding. I threw the covers off and swung my feet onto the cool, wooden floorboards. I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a pair of boxers and a tight fitting white tank-top. It would have to do.

I padded to the front door and opened it, half expecting Paul to be standing outside. Instead, a shoebox sized gift sat at my feet. It was wrapped carefully in silver wrapping paper and a bright red ribbon.

I leaned out of my front door to take a quick look around. Fortunately none of my neighbors were wandering the hallway to see me in my half-dressed state. There was no sign of Paul either.

I bent down and picked up the box, feeling the weight of it in my hands. It was light. I saw there was a card attached and I plucked it off and opened it.

To my Goddess. Merry Christmas. Yours, Paul.

I smiled to myself. It still made me weak at the knees when he referred to me as his goddess, and the word –
yours
– meant more to me than he could have known.

I closed my front door and walked back to my room, where I sat cross-legged on my bed. I set the note down beside me and started tearing the wrapping paper. It was too large to be a jewelry box and was closer to the size of a shoe box, which had me perplexed.

The paper transformed into a pile of shreds on my bedspread, I lifted the lid off what did indeed appear to be a shoe box. Inside lay a crisp, white envelope and a small velvet box. Despite my burning desire to see what was in the small velvet box, I chose the envelope first.

I removed a letter and a ticket fell into my lap. I picked it up and studied it. A business class return ticket to Hawaii. My jaw dropped open and I quickly unfolded the letter.

Madeleine.

I know this doesn’t give you much time to pack, but there was a reason I wanted you to myself on Boxing Day. Unfortunately you won’t get to see the boys – they’ll be at their grandparents – but you can see them when we get back.

It’s presumptuous of me, but I figure you can spare five days over the Christmas break to come with me to Hawaii. I have a spot in mind, it’s away from the hustle of Honolulu and we’ll need a car to get us there. You won’t mind driving around with me in a convertible Corvette, will you?

This time I have no intention of mixing work with pleasure.

Yours,

Paul.

PS Don’t forget to open your Christmas gift.

I glanced down at the velvet box. As if a holiday in Hawaii wasn’t enough of a gift! I put the letter down and opened the box slowly. I gaped at the sight of two diamond stud earrings, each the size of a small teardrop. They were the real thing, there was no doubting it. I traced a finger over their hard surface. They were perfect. Classic, understated and the sort of thing I could wear to work or on a special occasion.

I picked up my phone and called Paul.

“Madeleine.” Paul sounded smug. I didn’t blame him.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Do you like your gift?”

“What do you think?”

I heard him chuckle softly and my stomach flipped. I realized it was killing me that I wasn’t going to see him today.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning. Do you have enough time to pack your bags?” he asked.

“More than enough,” I confirmed. “It’s a shame you’re busy tonight, or I’d come over after I’m finished at my parents and thank you in person.”

Paul cleared his throat. “The boys aren’t staying.”

“So I could turn up on your doorstep after ten o’clock?”

“I’d like that,” Paul said softly.

“Good. Because you still have to unwrap your present.”

“I can’t wait.”

*

It was late by the time I stood on Paul’s doorstep.

Christmas at my parents with Max and Christa had actually been a lot of fun, particularly witnessing their enthusiastic responses when I announced my plans for the Christmas break. The diamond earrings which were now firmly fixed to my ears had also elicited a series of oohs and aahs from Christa and my mum. My brother had been less impressed, but that might have had something to do with the expectant look Christa directed his way after being informed of my Christmas presents. Paul had set the bar pretty high.

I pressed his doorbell and glanced at the guitar shaped case resting around the corner, out of sight.

The door opened and Paul stood in the entrance, his blue eyes bright. He leaned in and gave me a long, lingering kiss. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he muttered.

I did my best to recover from his kiss and pointed to my suitcase. “Would you mind helping me in with this?”

“Sure.”

Paul reached down and carried it inside for me. It gave me the opportunity to shuffle in the guitar behind him while his back was turned. I quickly stashed it in his study and hurried down the hallway to join him.

Paul set my luggage at the foot of the stairs and turned to me. “You must have thought I was a callous bastard.”

I stopped walking and looked at him.

“Making out like I didn’t want to include you for Christmas. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I had to make the most of today with the boys so I could go away with you to Hawaii. And for the record – I have no problem going to dinner at your parents in the future. Although I won’t lie. It’s going to feel a bit strange at first.”

A wave of relief washed over me and I discovered a lump lodged in my throat. “Thank you,” was all I could manage.

“Come here.” Paul reached for my hand and pulled me close, staring at me intensely. When he brushed my hair behind my shoulders, I became aware of what he was looking at.

“They look great.”

I smiled at his pleasure, his proximity – all of it. To think that earlier this morning I’d been worried about his feelings for me. We may not have exchanged those three words yet, but his actions made his feelings pretty obvious.

I looked at him coyly. “I still have to give you your gift.”

“I know.” He grinned and reached around my waist, pulling me to him. I could feel the hard muscles of his chest pushing against me – and something harder still – but I forced myself to playfully swat him away.

“Hang on, big boy.” I wriggled out of his grasp and walked back down the hallway toward the study. “First I need to give you your
real
gift.” I reached around the corner and produced the guitar case, which had a large red ribbon tied around it. I held it up in front of me. “Merry Christmas, Paul.”

A looked of stunned realization crossed his features. He strode over in a few swift steps and carefully took the guitar from my grasp.

“Open it,” I suggested.

He turned and walked to the lounge room. I watched as he sat in an armchair and undid the clasps holding the guitar case shut. He opened it slowly and I held my breath.

“My God,” he breathed. When he looked up at me his blue eyes were full of amazement. “How did you …?”

I smiled, happy that he recognized the significance of the guitar straight away. “I might have had a few conversations with Greg, who was rather helpful.”

Paul turned back to the guitar. It was a hand-made electric guitar, beautifully crafted from Australian blackwood and polished to perfection. “I don’t know what to say …”

“Say that you’ll play for me sometime. I didn’t get you an amp. I thought you might want to buy that, but this should get you started.”

Paul shook his head at me. “Madeleine, it’s
hand-made
. That can take months, not to mention it must have cost you a small fortune.”

I shrugged, elated that he liked it so much. “One of my freelancers is also a musician and was able to pull some strings for me with a luthier, no pun intended.” And it
had
cost me a lot of money, but I didn’t care. Paul’s reaction was worth it.

Paul set the guitar back in the case and closed it carefully. When he turned to me I was shocked to discover tears in his eyes.

“Madeleine,” he said gruffly, then stood and pulled me to him.

I dissolved in his kiss, his arms, the intensity of him.

“You … like … it?” I asked breathlessly, when he gently tipped my head back and began trailing my neck with kisses.

“I love it.”

“I’m so glad.”

Both of his hands found my cheeks and he pressed his forehead to mine. “Madeleine,” he said again, then pulled back to look at me. “I love you.”

My breath caught in my throat. Frustratingly I discovered I was unable to speak.

“I can’t believe I haven’t said it before now,” Paul whispered, “but I love you so much. I think you had me the moment you stepped into the reception area of Grounded Marketing, the first day we met.”

“You hid it well,” I squeaked. I couldn’t believe he was being so vocal about his feelings. I cleared my throat, suddenly finding my voice. “I wanted you the moment I saw you, Paul. Didn’t you notice my mum did all the talking when we first met because I was unable to speak? And then the way you came in to Grounded Marketing and helped with the pitch. Your quiet assurance, willingly offering your experience – all of it. You shrugged it off like it wasn’t anything special, but it was special to me.”

My eyes were pooling with tears too and I swiped them away with the back of my hand quickly. “I had no idea how lonely I’d been before that. I was dedicated to building up Grounded Marketing and thought I could do it on my own – ”

“You can do it on your own.”

“I know, but it wasn’t until you were there with me that I realized I didn’t want to do it on my own. You don’t know how much it means to me to be able to talk to you about my work, to bounce ideas around with you and to have your unwavering support. And then you took me to Fiji …”

My voice trailed off and I looked at him meaningfully. He grinned.

“Once I finally got my hands on you, Paul, I knew. The physical is amazing, but you mean so much more than that.”

“Much more?” The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes were guarded.

“I love you!” I smacked a sloppy kiss on his lips. “I’ve wanted to say it for weeks, but I was scared to …”

“Scared to?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “As my friends so helpfully pointed out recently, I don’t do things by halves. You? You’re more considered, more careful, and I was worried it was just me rushing in. So I was scared to say it.” I glanced at the guitar. “I guess that was my way of letting you know.”

Paul glanced at the guitar too, then back at me. “You shouldn’t have been scared, but I have to say, it was a pretty good way of letting me know.”

I smiled at him deliriously. I didn’t think I’d ever been so happy.

“Come here,” Paul whispered. “Let’s hope I’m better at showing you how I feel.”