Hate to Love You(78)
The afternoon was sunny but it didn’t matter. I looked at the City of London and all I saw were dark streets and hidden alleyways. Somewhere out there was a man who still had the power to hurt me.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” James said.
“It’s okay. We hated each other.”
James turned his head but I resolutely didn’t look at him. His voice was gentle. “Manuel won’t come back.”
I couldn’t answer. Maybe this was what it felt like to be an iceberg—tiny shards of crystallised terror and shame, sculpted into a Paisley-shaped figure.
“Please don’t put his visit in my evaluation report,” I said dully. “I don’t think ‘the candidate receives visits from psychopaths, inciting boss to violence’ is a good—”
James swore under his breath and reached for me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, and jumped away. “Nobody fucking touches me unless I say so!”
His hand froze in midair.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” I said brokenly.
I rubbed my arms frantically, trying to stop trembling so hard.
“He’ll never harm you again,” James said, with quiet assurance. “I promise you that.”
His declaration was made in friendship, with the same kindness he’d shown a messed-up eighteen-year-old girl. And just like back then there was no pity in his eyes. He radiated compassion. Tenderness. It affected me more than his anger had, filling me with an inner warmth that was far stronger than the physical attraction I’d felt only minutes before.
“Ryan has a game out of town on Saturday,” James said. “I’ll ask one of the other parents to take him so I can—”
“No,” I said, appalled he felt obligated to take me to the funeral.#p#分页标题#e#
“John and María were Ryan’s grandparents, and my in-laws for a brief period,” he said quietly.
Right, I’d forgotten. “Did they ever meet Ryan?”
James sighed. “They weren’t interested, as many times as I offered to visit with him.”
“They wouldn’t be,” I said bitterly. “I wonder if I should even bother to go to the funeral.”
“I’ll take you.”
No, no and no! I hadn’t deserved his kindness at eighteen and I didn’t deserve it now. I wanted it—oh, how I craved it, but I couldn’t accept it.
“Tarzan will take me,” I said, almost tripping over my feet in my haste to put distance between us.
“The dancing minister?”
I nodded.
“A man for every occasion.”
I stared at him blankly.
“Go home, Paisley,” James said, sounding like my boss again. “Take as much time off as you need.”
I felt his steady gaze on my back all the way out the door.
Tarzan and I squeezed into the middle of a pew at the back of Saint Albert’s Catholic Church. The funeral service was scheduled to start in twenty minutes, but with a decrepit-looking Father Martin puttering around the altar I had the feeling it would be delayed. He was retired, but had insisted on officiating.
Most of the Spanish community of Trenmore was in the crowded church. Caroline sat at the front next to a dark-haired man I presumed was her husband, her head covered by a black mantilla. She hadn’t seen me come in and I wanted to keep it that way.
My mobile pinged and I read the text from Marcia and smiled. If she were here she’d be making me feel better by slagging off my relatives, but she had to work and there was Fleur Anise to consider.
Tarzan raised his eyebrows.
“Chocolate cupcakes and Psycho await us tomorrow afternoon.”
He pulled a face. “A slasher film after laying your parents to rest?”
I shrugged. “When the going gets tough, the tough watch slice and dice. It helps to ease the tension.”
“I can suggest other films to do that.”
I lowered my voice. “Pussy Party at the Raunchy Reverend Retreat?”
Tarzan’s fair skin turned pink. “You’re never going to let me forget that phase, are you?”
“Just keeping it real, Reverend, but I won’t tell Marcia.” I leaned in to whisper in his ear. “It’ll be our little secret.”
“You’ve got too many of those already.” He gave me the all-seeing minister look that never fails to make me squirm. “You have to tell James the truth about Ryan if you want any kind of meaningful friendship with him.”
“Good thing I only want sex.”
My mind didn’t even bother to zap me for the lie. It didn’t need to. James had been in my thoughts almost every single second since Wednesday, and I wasn’t trying to deny the attraction anymore. I was fluent in man-speak and the signals he’d sent out before Manuel’s visit were red hot and very male.