Unveiled, Page 21

  ‘You have to let go now,’ Miller murmurs into my hair when we reach his car, but I answer only by squeezing him tightly and moaning into his hair. ‘Olivia, come on now.’

  Sniffing back my subsiding tears, I peel my wet face from his neck, keeping my eyes on the sodden collar of his crisp white shirt. My makeup has rubbed off on it. There’s mascara and pink blush mixed and embedded into the expensive material. ‘It’s ruined,’ I sigh. I don’t need to see him to know a frown has just appeared on his handsome face.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he replies, confusion rich in his tone, confirming my previous thought. ‘Here, jump down.’

  I relent and detach myself from his tall frame with his assistance, then stand before him, eyes dropped, not wanting to face his perplexity. He’ll demand an elaboration on my nonchalance. I don’t want to elaborate, and no amount of demanding will make me. So it’s simply easier to avoid his probing stare. ‘Let’s go get Nan,’ I practically sing, pivoting and making for the passenger side, leaving Miller behind, unquestionably confused. I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, what just happened never happened. I slip into the seat and shut the door, making fast work of getting my belt on. I’m dying to get to Nan, desperate to take her home and start helping with her recuperation.

  I ignore the heat of his eyes on me when he slips in beside me, choosing to reach forward and flick the stereo on instead. I smile when M83’s “Midnight City” blasts from all of the speakers. Perfect.

  After a good few seconds have passed and Miller still hasn’t started his car, I finally pluck up the courage to face him. I smile brighter. ‘Chop-chop.’

  He barely contains his recoil. ‘Livy, what . . .’

  I reach up and push my fingertips to his lips, immediately shutting him up. ‘No them, Miller,’ I start, tracing my way to his throat when I’m certain he’ll let me continue without interruption. His Adam’s apple rolls under my touch when he gulps. ‘Just us.’ I smile and watch as his eyes narrow in uncertainty, his head moving from side to side slowly. Then he returns my smile with a small one of his own and takes my hand to his mouth and kisses it tenderly.

  ‘Us,’ he confirms, broadening my smile. I nod my thanks and reclaim my hand, getting comfortable in the leather seat, my head dropped back, my eyes staring up at the ceiling. I do an incredible job of centring my thoughts on one thing and one thing alone.

  Nan.

  Seeing her lovely face, listening to her spunky words, feeling her squidgy body when I take her in a fierce hug, and relishing in the time I’ll get to spend with her while she’s recovering. It’s my job. No one else’s. No one else gets the pleasure of all of those things. Just me. She’s mine.

  ‘For now I’ll respect your request,’ Miller muses as he turns the engine over, and I look out the corner of my eye to see him doing exactly the same to me. I quickly divert my stare forward, ignoring his words and his look, which tells me I’m not going to be basking in ignorance for long. I know this, but for now I have the perfect distraction and I’m going to throw myself into it completely.

  The hospital is horribly hot and stuffy, but crazily a source of calm. My feet march on with resolve, like my body has cottoned on to my ploy and is assisting me in reaching the object of my distraction plan without delay. Miller hasn’t said a word since we pulled away from the Society. He’s left me to my thoughts, which have been blocking anything that may tarnish the elation I’m depending on once I lay my eyes on my grandmother. His palm is wrapped securely around my nape as he walks beside me, his finger kneading softly into my flesh. I love how he knows what I need, and I need this. Him. And Nan. Nothing else.

  We round the corner into Cedar Ward, and I immediately hear the distant cackling of Nan, making that elation I was depending on soar. My pace picks up, eager to make it to her, and when I enter the bay of beds where I know her to be, every lost piece of me clicks right back into place. She’s sitting in her chair, fully dressed in her Sunday best, with her huge carpetbag resting on her lap. And she’s hooting bursts of laughter at the TV. I relax under Miller’s hold and stand watching her for the longest time, until her old navy eyes pull from the screen and find me. They’re all watery from her laughter, and she reaches up and brushes the hysterical tears away from her cheeks.

  Then her smile disappears and she scowls at me, making my delight run and hide and my happy heart quicken, but now in worry. Does she know something? Is it written all over my face? ‘About time!’ she squawks, aiming the remote control at the screen and zapping it off.

  Her harshness restores that happiness in a second, and my fears that she may know something is off disappear. She must never know. I refuse to risk her health further. ‘I’m a half hour early,’ I say, taking Miller’s wrist and lifting it to look at his watch. ‘They said four.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been sitting here getting a numb arse for the past hour.’ She frowns. ‘Have you cut your hair?’

  ‘Just a trim.’ I reach up and pat it down.

  She goes to stand, and Miller disappears from my side quickly, taking the bag from her and offering his hand. She pauses and looks up at him, her irritation being replaced with an impish grin. ‘Such a gentleman,’ she gushes, laying her wrinkled hand in Miller’s. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Miller replies, bowing as he helps her up. ‘How are you feeling, Mrs Taylor?’

  ‘Perfect,’ she answers surely, steadying herself on her feet. She’s not perfect at all; she’s a little wobbly on her feet, and Miller’s quick flick of his eyes to me tells me he’s noticed it, too. ‘Take me home, Miller. I’ll make you beef Wellington.’

  I scoff my thoughts on that and glance to my right when the ward nurse appears with a paper bag. ‘Your grandmother’s medication.’ She smiles as she hands it to me. ‘Your grandmother knows what pills and when, but I also went over it with her son.’ The nurse blushes.

  ‘Her son?’ I blurt, my eyes widening.

  ‘Yes, the lovely man who’s here twice a day every day.’

  I swing around and find Miller looking as confused as I am and Nan smirking from ear to ear. She bursts into a helpless fit of giggles, bending slightly as Miller holds her arm. ‘Oh bless you, dear. He’s not my son.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ the nurse says, now joining Miller and me in the confusion department. ‘I assumed . . . well, I just assumed.’

  Nan gains a little composure and straightens out, rolling her eyes and threading her arm through Miller’s. ‘William is an old family friend, dear.’

  I’m scoffing again but rein it in when Nan throws an inquisitive look my way. An old family friend? Seriously? My mind is sprinting, yet I do an incredible job of preventing my mouth from blurting questions left, right, and centre. I don’t want to know. I’ve just left the old family friend back at the Society, holding back my mo— ‘Are you ready?’ I ask, keen to put this little misunderstanding to rest.

  ‘Yes, Livy. I’ve been ready for an hour,’ she bites back, her lips pursing as she turns her sour eyes onto the nurse. ‘This is my granddaughter’s boyfriend,’ Nan announces, louder than necessary, like she’s showcasing him to the whole ward – the proverbial trophy on her arm. ‘Handsome bugger, isn’t he?’

  ‘Nan!’ I gasp, blushing on Miller’s behalf. ‘Stop it!’

  The nurse smiles and backs away slowly. ‘Bed rest for a week, Mrs Taylor.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ She dismisses the nurse and nods to Miller. ‘He has great buns.’

  I choke, Miller chuckles, and the nurse burns bright red as her eyes fight to drop in the area of Miller’s buns, but I’m saved from my grandmother’s crafty behaviour when my mobile starts singing from my bag. Shaking my head in total exasperation, I rifle through and locate it, immediately freezing when I see William’s name illuminating my screen.

  Reject.

  I shove it back in my bag and swing a wary look to Miller’s cheery face when his phone starts shouting from his inside pocket. His smile drops as he catches my look and register
s the ringing of his phone. I shake my head subtly, hoping Nan doesn’t catch the silent messages passing between Miller and I, then get mighty mad when he drops Nan’s bag and slowly reaches for his inside pocket. I silently scream at him to leave it, firing continuous looks of warning across the bed, but I’m flat-out ignored and he connects the call. ‘Would you?’ he asks, indicating for me to take over his hold of Nan.

  Trying my hardest not to screw my face up in disgust, because I know Nan’s watchful eyes are passing between us, I approach slowly and replace Miller’s arm with my own. ‘Important call?’ Nan asks suspiciously. I should have known nothing gets past her.

  ‘You could say that.’ Miller drops a chaste kiss on my forehead in a pathetic attempt to pacify me, and Nan sighs dreamily as she watches Miller’s tight buns walk away. ‘Yes,’ Miller greets down the line as he disappears around the corner.

  I’m pouting. I can’t help myself, and I resent Miller for not being able to do what comes to me too easily. Bury my head in the sand. Ignore it. Carry on like nothing shitty has ever happened.

  ‘Are you and Miller OK?’ Nan’s concerned croak breaks through my racing mind and puts me firmly back where I want to be.

  ‘Perfect,’ I lie, forcing a smile and collecting her bag from the floor. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes!’ she grumbles, exasperated, before slapping a smile back on her age-worn face and turning towards the bed opposite hers, forcing me to turn with her. ‘Bye, Enid!’ she shouts, stirring the poor old lady from what looks like a deep sleep. ‘Enid!’

  ‘Nan, she’s snoozing!’

  ‘She’s always bloody snoozing. Enid!’

  The old dear’s eyes slowly open until she’s staring around, a little bewildered.

  ‘Over here!’ Nan yells, raising her hand and waving it above her head. ‘Cooooeeee!’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ I grumble, my feet starting to move when Nan begins trotting across the ward.

  ‘Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Olivia,’ she warns, dragging me alongside her. ‘Enid, dear, I’m going home now.’

  Enid gives us a gummy smile, making a small laugh of sympathy slip from my mouth. She’s so frail and clearly not with it. ‘Where are you going?’ she croaks, attempting to sit up but giving up on an exhausted sigh.

  ‘Home, dear.’ Nan gets us to the side of Enid’s bed and shuffles from my hold so she can take her hand. ‘This is my granddaughter, Olivia. Remember? You met her before.’

  ‘I did?’ She turns inspecting eyes on me and Nan turns to follow her stare, smiling at me when she has me in view. ‘Oh yes. I remember.’

  I smile as both ladies hold me in place with old, wise eyes, feeling a little uncomfortable under their studying stares. ‘It was nice to meet you, Enid.’

  ‘You take care, duck.’ She pulls her hand from Nan’s with some determined effort and grasps at air before me, prompting me to give her what she’s looking for. I rest my hand in hers. ‘He’ll be perfect,’ she says, making my head cock in question. ‘He’ll be perfect for you.’

  ‘Who will?’ I ask on a nervous laugh, flicking my eyes to a serious-looking Nan. She shrugs and turns back towards Enid, who’s drawing a laboured breath of air, ready to enlighten us, but she says no more, dropping my hand and falling back into a deep sleep.

  I bite my lip and resist the urge to tell a sleeping Enid that he’s already perfect for me, however weird her surprising claim is.

  ‘Hmmm.’ Nan’s thoughtful hum drags my attention back to her. She’s watching Enid sleeping with a fond smile. ‘No family,’ Nan says, spiking immediate sadness within me. ‘She’s been here for over a month and not one person has visited. Can you imagine being so alone?’

  ‘No,’ I admit, contemplating such loneliness. I may have cut myself off from the world, but I was never lonely. Never alone. Miller was, though.

  ‘Surround yourself with people who love you,’ Nan says to herself, yet the intention for me to hear is obvious, although her reason for such a statement isn’t. ‘Take me home, sweetheart.’

  I waste no time gesturing my arm for Nan to slip hers through and start a slow, easy walk to the exit. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ I ask, just as Miller rounds the corner, his luscious lips displaying a hint of a smile. He isn’t fooling me. I caught the stressed eyes on his impassive face before he spotted us.

  ‘Here he is!’ Nan sings. ‘All suited and booted.’

  Miller relieves me of Nan’s bag and takes up position on the other side of her, offering his arm, too, which she takes on a happy smile. ‘The rose between two thorns,’ she titters, forcing us both closer to her with a surprisingly firm tightening of her arms. ‘Toodle-oo!’ she shouts at the nurse’s station as we pass. ‘Farewell!’

  ‘Goodbye, Mrs Taylor!’ They all laugh as we escort my grandmother from the ward, and I smile my apology to the team of medical staff who’ve endured days of her sass. I’m not really that sorry, only for not being the one on the constant receiving end of that Taylor sass.

  It takes us a while, but we eventually make it out of the hospital, Miller and I both happy to amble along, while Nan has to be constantly held back from virtually sprinting from the place she’s seen as a prison for the duration of her stay. I haven’t looked at Miller once in the twenty minutes it’s taken us to make it to his car, though I’ve felt his eyes directed at me across Nan’s head on more than one occasion, probably gauging my thought process. If Nan wasn’t between us, I’d tell him exactly what my thought process is and save him the trouble. It’s simple. I don’t care and I don’t want to know. Whatever he and William may have spoken about, whatever plans they’ve made, I don’t want to know. The fact that Miller is probably fully armed in the knowledge department isn’t in the least bit piquing my curiosity as to what that knowledge might be. I have, however, silently concluded that William knew Gracie Taylor was here and he chose not to tell me. I’m not sure whether that should make me angry with him or grateful.

  ‘Well, would you look at Mr Swanky Pants!’ Nan laughs when Miller opens the back door of his Merc for her and swoops his arm in guidance – all gentlemanly. He’s taking Nan’s delusional conclusion that he’s always such a gent and playing on it. But I’ll let it pass, if only to keep that incredible smile gracing her face. I toss him slightly narrowed eyes, fighting to prevent matching his amusement as he helps Nan lower to the seat. ‘Oh, I say!’ she gasps, getting comfy on the backseat. ‘I feel like royalty!’

  ‘You are, Mrs Taylor,’ Miller replies as he shuts the door, hiding the satisfied blush that’s just crept onto her cheeks. Now that Nan’s out of the way, it’s just me and Miller, and I seriously dislike the thoughtful look on his face. Where’s all the impassiveness gone? I love and hate all of these facial expressions. ‘William would like to speak to you,’ he whispers, quite wisely, too, given Nan’s a mere foot away, albeit behind a closed door.

  I’m quickly on my guard. ‘Not now,’ I hiss, knowing that I probably mean never. ‘Right now I have one priority.’

  ‘I concur,’ Miller agrees without delay, surprising me. He moves in and dips to get our faces level. Reassuring blue eyes haul me into their safety and comfort, make my arms twitch at my sides. ‘Which is why I told him you’re not ready.’

  I give up fighting to keep them by my sides and throw them over his shoulders in gratitude. ‘I love you.’

  ‘We established that long ago, sweet girl,’ he whispers, pulling back to get my face in view. ‘Let me taste you.’

  Our mouths meet and my feet leave the ground, our tongues falling into a beautifully delicate pace of swirling, each of us nipping at each other’s lips when we pull back, time and time again. I’m lost, consumed, oblivious to our very public surroundings . . . until a sharp rapping jolts me back to the here and now and we both pull apart. Miller huffs a quiet, disbelieving shot of laughter as we turn towards the window of his car. I can’t see Nan’s face – the blacked out windows are preventing it, but if I could, I know she’d be pushe
d up against the glass, grinning.

  ‘A treasure,’ Miller mutters, releasing me and straightening me out before beginning on himself. It’s been some time since he’s fixed his suit, but he’s making up for it now, taking a good minute to pull and smooth every part of him into place while I watch on a smile, comforted by one of his finicky ways, even reaching up and dusting off a piece of lint that he’s missed. He smiles in response, reaches for my nape, and pulls me forward, planting a kiss on my forehead.

  Rap rap rap!

  ‘Give me strength,’ he mumbles against my skin, then releases me and turns a scowl onto the window of his car. ‘Beautiful things should be savoured, Mrs Taylor.’

  Nan’s answer to that is another round of taps on the window, prompting Miller to bend and get up close to the window, his scowl still firmly in place. My amusement increases when he raps right back. I hear Nan’s gasp of shock, even through the closed door, not that it has any effect on my part-time gentleman. He raps again.

  ‘Miller, behave,’ I laugh, loving the irritation flaming in him under my grandmother’s pesky behaviour.

  ‘She really is royal.’ He straightens and slips his hands into his pockets. ‘A royal . . .’

  ‘Pain in the arse?’ I finish for him when he pulls up, guilt jumping onto his face.

  ‘Sometimes,’ he agrees, making me laugh. ‘Let’s get her ladyship home, shall we?’ He nods towards the other side of the car and I follow his instruction, taking myself to the passenger side and jumping in the back with Nan.

  When I’ve got my seat belt on, I look across and find her fiddling with hers, so I lend a hand and secure it for her. ‘There,’ I say, resting back in my seat and watching as she takes in the sumptuous interior of Miller’s posh car. She reaches up and presses a button that puts a light on, then turns it off again. She fiddles with the air-con buttons between the footwells, humming her approval. She pushes a button that sends her window down, then pushes it again to close it back up. Then she finds an armrest between us and pulls it down, sliding the runner back to reveal cup holders. Old, amazed navy eyes fly up to mine and she forms an O with her marshmallow lips. ‘I bet the queen’s car isn’t as posh as this.’ Her comment should make me laugh, but I’m too busy flicking nervous eyes to Miller in the rearview mirror, trying to gauge his reaction to all this messing of his perfect world.

  He’s staring at me, his jaw tight, and I return that smile awkwardly, mouthing ‘sorry’ on a bunched up face. His lovely head shakes from side to side, tousling up his waves as he virtually