Coming Home (Only Time Will Tell #1) (6 page)

I walk across the courtyard that's shrouded by the huge white walls of the building. Walking through the huge glass doors, and saying a quick “hi,” to the concierge I pass on my way to the elevator.

I'm not in the mood to chat with anyone, ice cream crisis in the making if I do.

As the elevator ascends I start dancing on the spot, willing it to hurry the hell up, I'm going to have a tub of goo at this rate.

The elevator pings and I run through the gap as soon as it's physically possible. I head to the door with my groceries in one arm and my bag in the crook of the other, it's open, stupidly, so I shake the contents trying to listen for the jingle of metal.

“You want a hand with that?”

I suck in a breath and jump back a step, completely startled to find Kyle at my door. My eyes involuntarily wander up him as I admire the man that he’s become, seeing him completely differently today as I have done these last couple of days. “Sure” I whisper.

Kyle takes the groceries so that I can search for my keys freely.

Unlocking the door, I give him a nervous smile because that is exactly how I'm feeling right now. Nervous. I feel like there’s a slithering snake sliding across my chest, under my skin.

Walking in I chuck my purse on the dining table, Kyle walks in after me and into the kitchen, placing the bag on the island. I look at him, biting my lip, thinking of something to say, again. It didn't really go too well this weekend.

He's in another suit, a black one with a light blue shirt underneath, no tie, the top two buttons open again.

Just act normal.
Taking a deep breath I head into the kitchen, my head spinning out of control with thoughts and hypothetical conversations. “Hi,” I say, taking the bag away from his hands so I can put
my
groceries away.
 

“Hey.”

I point my finger towards the suit, feeling a bit better about the feeling I have to drool. “Just finished work?”

He looks down, then back up at me. “I finished a while ago, I just haven't been home yet.”

“Oh.”

I take all the fresh produce out the bag, setting them on the counter behind me. “Are you stopping?” I ask as I bend down and switch the oven on to heat up.

“What are you having?” he asks, sounding muffled.

I turn and look at him with his head practically
in
the bag.
 

“Cottage pie, I miss my Mom’s cooking.”

“Never knew they used ice cream to make it in England?”

I snatch the bag from under his face and shove it-bag and all-in the freezer. “You’re such a twat at times.”

He raises an eyebrow and smiles. “A what?”

“A. Twat. It means idiot.”

That makes him laugh. “I see the old you is still in there, you’re just one big ol' bag of jumbled culture now.”

I shake my head and grab a huge pan, fill it with water and leave it to boil while I get everything prepared. “Are you staying or not?”

“Do you want me too?”

“If I didn't want you here I wouldn't have let you in.” I tell him, “Now, chop this,” chucking him an onion.

I'm busy peeling the potatoes when I hear sobs coming from behind me. I turn round to see what's wrong, but he has his back to me, I tug on his arm to make him turn around and when he does his eyes are red and he has tears streaming down his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says and then stupidly rubs the tears from his eyes with his onion covered hands, “These stupid things are killing me, I can't see,” sniffling some more.

He may look like a big strong man, but right now he sounds like a freaking five year old.

“Don't blame the onion, I told you you were a twat. Your hands are covered in onion, so you rub your eyes with them? Of course it's going to hurt.”

I take a dish cloth and run it under the cold tap. Going back to him, I tip toe and pat around his eyes. He places his hands on my hips. It feels like hot coals against my skin, like I'm still supersonically sensitive to his touch. I continue like it's doing nothing to me. Thank God I don't have a pulse around my hip bones.

When he stops with the blubbering, I re-dampen the towel and shoo him away with it so I can carry on with cooking in peace. I see him out the corner of my eye, shrugging off his jacket.

I finish the potatoes and leave them to cook while I do the rest. Kyle heads over to the window, standing peacefully with one hand in his pant pocket, the other clutching the dish cloth like it's his security blanket. I can't help but smile at him.

If only he knew what was going through my head right now. He’s oblivious and has no idea about the part of my life he should have been involved in. Not that I can blame him. I know that everything is just my assumption but I know what an evil bitch his Mom can be, and I don’t doubt for one second that she’s had something to do with our letters not getting to each other. It hurts more knowing that she could do that over her flesh and blood.

While I'm chucking all the vegetables into the pan to cook, Kyle shouts to me, even though I'm technically in the same room. “Holy shit! Were you robbed?”

“What? Why?” scanning the apartment, checking that everything is still there: computer, television, furniture...nothing’s missing.

He points to the loungers, “Your couches are gone!”

I can't help but laugh and roll my eyes. “I never had any. I'm saving for some.”

He looks at me puzzled. “Don't have any?”

“No.” I leave him with that and prepare dinner, shoving it in the oven to finish off cooking.

Grabbing my purse, I go through to the bedroom, but not before I check on him, bouncing around on the lounger that faces the window, arranging the throw cushions to get comfy.

After a quick shower, I get dressed in a pair of three quarter sweatpants and a white vest, braiding my hair over my shoulder so it's out of the way and also so I get the 'beach hair,' I love to wear for tomorrow.

When I first enter the lounge, I think he's gone, because he isn't on the lounger, but I quickly find him in the kitchen serving up dinner. “I would say you'd make a great housewife one day, but, because of the onion, I'm afraid I can't.”

He glances at me over his shoulder smirking. “Tell anyone about that and I'll have to kill you.”

“I can feel some blackmailing happening in the future,” I joke.

I take a seat on the bar stool and wait for him to serve me my food, because quite frankly, I'm frickin' starving.

We sit in silence for a while, just eating and drinking the wine that he poured after rooting through the refrigerator.

Kyle's cutlery clatters against his plate. I look over and see his plate, completely clean, while mine’s only half eaten. “Hungry?”

He smirks “A little. I should hire you to cook every day for me.”

Getting up I grab the plates, looking at him with the best “I ain't impressed with that” face I can possibly give. “Don't think so, sunshine.”

I place his plate in the sink before grabbing a Tupperware container, scraping my leftovers in it for a fry-up later.

“You’re saving that?” he asks screwing his face up in disgust.

“Sure am,” I reply, sliding it into the refrigerator. “I took delivery of my Daddies brown sauce so I can pretend I'm eating a Sunday fry up.”

“You imported sauce?”

“No, my Mom sent me a few things; I'm really craving a fry-up.” I laugh as I walk into the living area and sprawl out on the lounger, switching the TV on at the same time. Kyle walks through and places my wine glass on the coffee table before sitting in “nods spot.”

He sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at his wine glass. “Are you okay, Mr. Serious? You look like your cat just died.”

It makes him laugh, “Explain the whole, not buying couches thing. I can't understand why you got everything and not those. This plastic crap isn't comfy.”

“Well, I wasn't thinking of your arse when I got them...”

He interrupts me, “Ass.”

“Ass. Sorry. My
ass
has plenty of padding. I clearly don't notice it as much as you.”
 

He barks out a laugh. “Padding? You had the bonniest backside...”

“Ass,” I correct with a wink.

“Sorry. You had the bonniest ass in the universe.”

My jaw drops and I sarcastically cover my mouth with my hand, mocking shock. “I so didn't. It's not my fault that all the girls you chased had fatter asses.”

Now he mocks shock, “I didn't chase girls. It's not my fault someone took their time coming to their senses.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes, feeling a little bit awkward remembering how completely stupid I was as a teenager. He could’ve of tattooed his feelings on his forehead and I still wouldn't have clicked. “I was just slow at registering the clues. I can't help it, I'm intellectually challenged at times.”

He starts pondering again, tapping his finger against the glass, attempting to say something a couple of times before he manages to get his words out. “Yesterday, you said you’d tried to get in contact with me after the emails started bouncing. Did you honestly try and write to me?”

Now I’m gaping like a fish. “Of course I did, I did it for months, and I mean months. I didn’t think you were interested in me and I wanted you…” I think long and hard. Do I want to drop it now? When we’re both still trying to figure out what’s happening in our heads? No. “I just wanted you to speak to me one way or another, even if it was to tell me to leave you alone. I just wanted to know that you could at least give me ten minutes to read and reply to a letter.”

“Cat, I swear I never got them. I asked my Mom about it today too, she said she never had anything, not even in the mail we had forwarded, after we moved. I didn’t get a single one. I would have given my right arm for a letter from you.” He sighs, turning and lying on the lounger, his eyes staring at me intently.

My mouth tips up on one side as I stare back. Believing what he just told me even though I probably shouldn’t, I do. “Right back at ya. I loved you and it broke me.” Even now thinking about it is tearing my heart out.

Kyle gets to his feet and holds out his hand, I take it, puzzled. “That's one way of putting it. At least it wasn’t just me who felt it,” he says. “Didn't you get ice cream? I hear it helps broken hearts.”

I nod, giving him tight lipped smile. Taking my hand out of his, I go into the kitchen and get it out of the freezer.

While I'm trying to scoop it out into bowls, failing miserably, my computer starts ringing. “Can you answer that for me? It's my Skype.” Nodding at him and towards the computer, praying deep down that it isn’t my Mom or Dad.

I'm staring at the ice cream, seconds away from threatening it with a chainsaw when Kyle calls for me. “Cat? There's someone who looks just like you on the screen.”

I give up with it at that second, knowing it's my amazing and gorgeous niece Jade. Drying my hands on a dishcloth I shoo him out the way and see her little, sleepy face staring back at me. “Jade, what are you doing up? It must have gone midnight there?” I say checking the tiny clock on my desk that is set to English time.

She rubs her eyes and I can see that she's sitting up in bed with her tablet. “I couldn't sleep,” she yawns, “I miss you.”

Those words break my heart, no matter who says them, my Dad or my niece, it breaks my heart that they miss me. It makes me feel bad for moving. “I know princess, I'll come visit as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Do you think you'll be back for Aaron's wedding?”

I look at her apologetically, because I really don't think I will be. “We'll see, but I can't promise. Listen, you need some sleep, you have school tomorrow. I'll sort something with your Mom and call you at a normal hour on Saturday.”

“Okay. But only if you promise to visit as soon as you can.”

I roll my eyes at her for trying to bargain with me. “Promise. Give everyone a sloppy kiss from me though.”

She nods her head at me and rubs her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you both, to the moon and back, just remember to tell her I said that, okay?” I kiss the tips of my fingers on both hands and blow her the kisses through the screen, one for her and one for her sister, Anne. She does the same, just with one hand. I wave bye and disconnect the call.

I remain seated for a while just staring at the blank screen, fighting back tears and wiping away the ones that escape.

Kyle grabs my hand and lifts me from my funk, dragging me into the kitchen to the melting ice cream. “Was that Jade? Your brother’s Jade?”

I nod, she was only about two when we left, now she's ten and looking more and more like me. It's really scary.

“Wow. That makes me feel old.”

I shove into his arm with my shoulder. “That's because you are old. At least you’re older than me.” I grin cheekily.

I grab a couple of spoons and put the bowls back in the cupboard; ice cream was made to be eaten from the tub when you feel down in the dumps.

We both dig in, and I'm really happy that things are going well, especially after this weekend. It's nice to just have an old friend back. Even though we were once more than that, I'm glad we’re both comfortable to be around each other and be
us
.
 

I have my forearm resting on the worktop, starting to feel slightly sick from eating too much really creamy, vanilla ice cream. I let Kyle take another huge spoonful before I make a grab for the lid, only that spoonful doesn't make it to his mouth. I feel the ice cold lump slide down my back, under my tank top, making me scream and prance around like a mental fairy as the icy lump slides down my spine.

“Fuck, K.C., that's cold!”

He bends over laughing his head off, and I'm glad that I can still cause that much amusement.

With him not paying attention, I scoop a handful of ice cream out the tub, shoving it down
his
back under his shirt. I start laughing as he tries to curse at me for doing that while he's trying to stop laughing at me. He looks at me eventually and shakes his head, smiling, he takes his own handful and drops it down the front of my top. If it was anyone else I would have been extremely pissed, but I'm happy that we’re strangely doing something that was completely the old us. Not the suit and tie adults, we have become, but the baggy pants, baggy shirted kids we once were, over a tub of ice cream.