‘Yeah, I see it. And, honestly, it sucks. I’ve mentioned it to her in one-to-ones– tried to bring you into my projects, but she shuts it down every time. I can’t stand it. It’s no way to grow.’ He pauses, taking another sip. ‘I’ve been debating leaving too. I just think, if she’s blocking you from progress, she’s probably blocking me too, you know?’
The pieces start to connect– the rescheduled meetings, the menial tasks, the fact that I’m still a PA four years on despite making it clear that I want more. . . It isn’t Abbingtorn, it’sPippa. She’s the thorn in my side, blocking my blessings left and right. I should be angry or shocked that the thing I’ve assumed has finally come to light as truth. But all I can do is giggle at the flushed face of the man in front of me. I haven’t seen this side of Gus before. Other than the ‘predictable’ comment, I wasn’t aware he had opinions of me at all.
I guess work colleagues can be strange– sometimes they become your best friends and sometimes they stay strangers you work with every day, but know nothing about. Maybe if Gus and I had talked to each other more, we could have been the type that were friends. Maybe this last month of my notice could bethe first step we need to at least band together against a common enemy.
‘I’m gonna miss you, Gus,’ I say, and, honestly, I mean it.
He smiles softly. ‘I’m gonna miss you too, Maddison.’
We can’t hug again– the first hug was weird enough; it’s not us and we’re not there yet– but we exchange two small, knowing nods as we match each other’s gaze. It feels light and new; the start of something that could be nice. A connection with someone who truly gets it.
‘Don’t be a stranger,’ he says.
‘I’m here if you ever need to rant.’ I return his smile. ‘Now, have you seen Aiden? It’s important.’
He springs back to life, startled by my new jump to action.
‘Yeah, erm. . .’ He frantically searches his tipsy mind for clues. ‘He said something about getting more napkins. But that was a while ago and there are loads beside. . .’
I am gone before Gus has time to finish his sentence, speeding down the hill to the bottom, heels be damned. I should’ve known he’d be there– he told me he would be. I burst through the doors of the greenhouse, past the vine arch and find Aiden perched on top of the napkin chest.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks.
With the way he changed the schedule, I haven’t seen him in his party outfit yet. He’s in smart trousers and a crisp, aqua shirt, the exact colour to compliment my dress. It’s deep, soft and beautifully inviting– the complete opposite to the burning anger painted across his face.
I don’t dare look away, taking in all the rage while I let Evie’s words play through my mind. This isn’t over. He cares about me. I can fix this. I just need to try.
‘You scare me,’ I say.
The words come out as more of a strained pant, as I’m still catching my breath from the run. But they come out, which is thepart that truly matters. I’ve made a start. I’ve laid the first brick of our bridge. He gives me a confused look, before anger clouds his features again.
‘OK, cool, I scare you. We done now?’ he asks.
‘No, we’re not,’ I say, moving closer as my breath starts to steady. ‘We have been at war for years and yet I am addicted to your smile. That scares me. You make me bolder and brighter, and push myself so much harder, and, honestly, that scares me too. But I have learnt in the last six months, that sometimes the things that scare you are the things that help you grow as a person.’
The words flow out of me this time, that flame of hope forcing them out, lighting the path. He looks up at me, face still stony but so much less angry as he moves to stand in front of me.
Up this close, I can practically taste each note of his aftershave. I’ve missed this. I’ve missedhim. I can’t lose us again. He takes my arm, sending a volt of electricity through my skin and directly up my spine. I have to chew on my bottom lip to keep myself grounded and keep the butterflies at bay.
‘Do you remember what you said to me in the back of the taxi? The night we were getting back from the La La Lounge?’ he asks.
I shake my head. I blacked out that portion of the night. Knowing what alcohol does to my internal filter, that’s probably for the best.
‘All this time, I couldn’t tell if you didn’t remember or if you were just trying to pretend,’ he says.
‘Was it that bad?’ I ask, grimacing at the thought.
I was peak hatred– I could have saidanythingback then.
He keeps his expression neutral, but there’s a light hint of a sparkle in his eyes, indulging in the way that I squirm as I await a response to my evident worry. He doesn’t give too much away, but he does edge closer, leaning over so we’re both nose to nose.
‘Well, we’d both had loads to drink, so I figured I’d take the chance while I could and ask you why you hated me so much, after all these years.’ He pauses to check if it triggers anything for me, but it doesn’t, as much as I wish that it did. I can’t think of anything right now but him and this moment. ‘There was, of course, the chunk where you kept calling me the worst and insisting that hating is just what we do. . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
I can’t even try to defend myself. It’s the exact kind of thing that I would have said.
‘Don’t apologise yet. There’s more.’ His lip is curling, tone lightening as he chuckles a little and cups my chin. ‘You told me that I had ruined your life in the worst possible way because I had made you realise that there was more to life than just achieving things. That impressing me meant just as much to you as achieving your goals. And that you knew that I’d never know what that felt like because I didn’t even notice you.’
