Hate to Love You(67)
If not for James.
Looking at the actor playing Valjean almost undid me. He was tall and dark haired, and his rich voice filled me with a poignant cocktail of pain and pleasure. Valjean loved Cosette and tried to protect her, and he wasn’t even her real father. Of course, James thought he was Ryan’s real father, but I was sure he would have loved my son anyway had my sister been the sort of woman I could have entrusted him to.
Marcia was right about a parent’s love for their child, no matter the blood link. My mind had known it but my heart hadn’t wanted to accept it.
How could I expect James to let Ryan into my care on my say-so alone? Ryan was precious to him, even more than he was to me. James was the parent and I was...well, I was nothing. Just a womb that had filled and then emptied.
After the play we sat in gloomy silence as the theatre emptied. There was no way I was going to risk bumping into James and Miss Universe again. My eyes were swollen and my nose felt sore from sniffling.
Marcia stood up and extended her hand. “Let’s go home, baby cheeks.”
“If you call me that again you’re not getting any tonight.”
We didn’t talk any more about James but what Marcia had said dogged me for the rest of the weekend. I resolved to treat him differently, less like an adversary and more like a...
Lover, my mind whispered.
No! Like a hot man who happened to be my son’s father and who I should get to know better for that reason alone. Nothing more.
Chapter Fifteen
“PUM”
I have the flakiest friends in the world: an A&E nurse who can’t keep time to save her soul and a Christian minister who can’t keep a date to save his life. It was the weekend following Les Miserables and Tarzan had texted me, cancelling our night out in the West End.
Salsa dancing had replaced my craving for drugs. Well, not really. Who was I kidding? But I figured if I said it often enough then one day it would be true. Unfortunately, one of Tarzan’s young addict parishioners had OD’d and he’d be spending the night at the hospital, praying and comforting the family. I shuddered and sent the poor kid my best wishes.
I pouted at my phone, trying to decide whether to finish reading Wild West Succubus or head to the salsa club anyway. No matter how much I tried not to think about James wining and dining Vanessa, kissing her and taking her to bed, the image of them together kept intruding on my thoughts. As did the memory of his arms around me as we danced, his teasing voice as he wiped the chocolate from my face and his aloofness since then.
I’d been doing a lot of thinking since that night at the theatre. Instead of concentrating on my pain or my desires, I thought about Ryan’s needs. I wanted to be in his life for his sake now, more than my own. That his heart could be damaged by not knowing me gave me a new sense of purpose—a selfless one.
James continued to observe me with the same intensity. His sharp looks seeped into my body like a fever and I needed to break it, shake it and fling it loose. Salsa dancing would have done the trick, I thought sourly.#p#分页标题#e#
I couldn’t muster my joie de dance so I settled down to read whether Paprika was going to add another stud to her corral. A few minutes later Marcia came home from a birthday party with Fleur Anise and stood in my doorway. Frowning, she held out a yellow sticky note as if it was her last pound coin and she was being forced to drop it into the collection plate.
“L’Amuse Bouche called while you were out shopping this morning,” she said. “One of their waitresses came down with a bug and they want to know if you can silver service tonight.”
Extra money is always welcome so I tugged the sticky note from her grasp and tried to read it. Jesus, they say doctors’ handwriting is bad but a nurse’s isn’t much better. I deciphered Marcia’s spiderlike scrawl and my restless mood disappeared. 60th birthday bash, Matham Manor, Hampstead.
“Brilliant.”
“Don’t do it.”
“Francesca’s had my drug test results for ages,” I said, opening my top drawer. “I’ve kept to my end of the bargain and she’s done nothing to help me. It’s time to remind Franny dearest of her promise.”
“Be patient, hon.”
I snorted. Patience has passed me by and I’ve learned to live without it. It’s not as though I can pick some up on eBay or add it to my Christmas wish list. I rooted around for a pair of black tights with no ladders in them.
“Tarzan is always saying things happen for a reason and this is the perfect example. The next time I see him I’m going to thank him because—Hey, I need to borrow your black dress—the boring one with the long zipper down the front.”