Page 63 of The Payback Plan
‘Yeah.’
She sounded utterly miserable, her rapid blinking confirming her emotional state which hit Oliver hard. She was obviously gutted at the development as was he and he knew they were supposed to be keeping their distance from each other but that didn’t seem important at the moment.
‘Hey,’ he murmured, his eyes locking on hers that were two hazel puddles.
She shook her head, blinking some more. ‘I’m alright.’
‘Really?’
Sighing noisily, her head fell back against the door frame. ‘No.’
‘Neither am I,’ he admitted.
And then he opened his arms because it just felt like the right thing to do. And when she walked straight into them, her arms lacing around his waist, her cheek pressing into his chest, heknewit was.
Neither of them spoke, they just held each other, his chin on top of her head. The spring of her hair was a whispery caress against his throat and curiously comforting even if he was suddenly aware of the slow, thick, thud of his pulse flowing like molasses through his veins. As they stood in the doorway not speaking, a duck waddled by the driveway, stopping halfway to look at them and quack.
‘Aww.’ Paige pulled out of his arms. ‘How cute is that?’
Oliver shook his head at her. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
She laughed and after the heaviness of what had just happened it was soothing at a visceral level. ‘Oh come on,’ she teased and that was soothing in placeslessvisceral. ‘Maybe it’s a sign from the universe? Takes away our dog, gives us a duck.’
Our.
Us.
Oliver liked how that sounded a little too much. ‘The only way that bird is coming in this house is if it’s going in the oven and being served with hoisin sauce.’
‘Shh, Oliver,’ she scolded but a smile flirted with her mouth. ‘It’ll hear you.’
If the way the duck quickly waddled on was any indication, ithadheard. He shook his head as he pushed away from the door frame and they moved inside. ‘You’re like bloody Cinderella. I’m surprised bluebirds don’t follow you wherever you go.’
She laughed again and started to sing as she walked down the hallway. ‘When you wish upon a star?—’
‘That’s fromPinocchio,’ he interrupted.
But instead of being horrified at her terrible lack of film knowledge, he laughed and damn if he didn’t feel a little better.
12
Later that evening, with the wind blowing a gale outside, Paige and Oliver were sitting on the couch in the darkened media room watchingPinocchio– the original 1940 animated version.What else?She’d known the song she’d sung this afternoon wasn’t fromCinderella. That had been the whole point. She’d been trying to lighten the mood or at least distract from Casper leaving and she knew her getting film facts wrong drove him bonkers.
But, she’d obviously tripped something in his head because he’d announced over an hour ago that he was going down to watch it and she’d found herself following, pleased for the distraction of a wooden puppet who wanted to be a real boy. Or maybe it had been because seeing him go downstairs without the dog at his heel had broken her heart a little and the house had seemed oppressively quiet without the white noise of doggy pants and toenails tapping on the floorboards.
For goodness’ sake, the damn dog had been adevice.A way to annoy Oliver – to create chaos in his pristine, controlled world. Sandy paws, daily baths, loud barking, slobber andallthe dog hair. But he’d become so much more – to both of them.
He’d become a… member of the family. Such as they were.
Sheila had told Casper he’d been lucky to end up here but Paige was pretty sure they’d been the lucky ones. Oliver for sure. Walking Casper on the beach each day had given him a routine and a reason to get out there and also the perfect environment for creative flow. If it hadn’t been for Casper, she doubted Oliver would have been anywhere near as productive these past weeks.
They were in their usual positions on the couch. Him, in his standard boxers and T that sat snug against his abs emphasisingeverythingat one end and her, in her voluminous, bilious-green velour, yoga pants and her baggiest oversized shirt which covered her from neck to knees and lefteverythingto the imagination, at the other.
She’d thrown them on as a defence against this taut thread of awareness that had vibrated like an invisible trip line between them since their hallway make-out sesh. They were the two most unflattering articles of clothing she’d brought with her and, combined, they were really something else. But she needed the barrier to keep a physical and mental distance from him.
Especially tonight. With a Casper-sized space – or maybe that washole– between them, lowering defences she’d been shoring up all week.
It certainly felt like the elephant in the room right now and Paige was pleased for the distraction of a wooden puppet who wanted to be a real boy.
