Page 17 of The Surrender
Jude’s hand appears before me, and I stare at it, desperate to take it. I was a bet. But he won the bet and still came back for me. And he’s here now. Apologetic. Determined. And the frightening fact is, I will never know if I can trust him if I don’t throw caution to the wind and give him the chance to prove himself.
So, on a deep breath, I take his hand and watch as he threads our fingers, squeezing.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, gently encouraging me onwards.
The lobby is quiet, and so is the Library Bar when I peek inside as we pass.
Jude leads me to his apartment and escorts me inside. “I’m going to cook,” he says as we enter the kitchen. I notice a basket of fresh vegetables on the oak island, along with a parcel wrapped in greaseproof paper and knotted with twine. Meat?
“Did you call ahead and have this arranged?”
“I was being optimistic.” He slides a wooden chopping board out from behind a toaster. “How’s your hand feeling?”
My hand is fine. It’s my heart I’m worried about. “It’s okay. I’m going to use the bathroom.”
“Help yourself.” Jude plucks a few courgettes from the basket and a knife from the stand. “I’ll be here grinding away over a meal for two, instead of grinding into you.”
“Ha. Ha.”
He quirks a brow. “I’ll do dessert too. It sounds like I’ve already exhausted my optimism for this evening.”
I roll my eyes as I walk away, heading for the bathroom. And, naturally, as I pass through his dressing room, I falter by the sliding door where I found those gorgeous green shoes. I try so hard to carry on walking. And fail.
I slide the door open, and my heart sinks when I see they’re still there. I can’t ignore this. Inhaling, I pluck the shoes out, walking back through to the kitchen and putting them on the island. Jude pauses chopping. Looks at the shoes. Peeks up at me.
“I’m just wondering how you’d feel if you found something that belongs to another man in my wardrobe.”
He sets the knife down and slowly wipes his hands on a towel. “Well, for a start, I wouldn’t rummage through your wardrobe.”
“I’m a little bit sorry.”
He huffs under his breath, resting the towel on the wood and bracing his hands there. “You’re wondering whose shoes they are.”
“Maybe.”
“Then let me enlighten you.” He circles the island and collects me, leading me back out of his apartment and down to the hotel lobby. He stops and motions to the portrait of his mother, and I frown, looking too. Not that I need reminding. She’s divine in her cream Chanel dress and cute blue suede kitten heels. “Wait.” Jude pulls out his phone and starts working the screen fast, eventually turning it towards me. And there on the screen is his mother in the same dress.
But different shoes. Emerald-green kitten heels.
“Oh God,” I whisper. “They’re your mother’s?”
“Yeah, they’re my mother’s.” He tucks his phone away. “She was wearing them the day she stumbled upon Arlington Hall and lost one as she was wading through the brambles and overgrowth.” His face is pained, and I positively hate myself in this moment. Jude holds his hand out, and I take it immediately, letting him walk us back tohis apartment. “We tried to find it when we started the work. I had excavators, groundsmen, everyone looking for that damn missing shoe.” He smiles across to me. “They were her favourites. My dad brought them back from Paris for her. When she had that portrait done during the work on Arlington Hall, she was devastated she couldn’t wear the green shoes.”
“They’re beautiful shoes,” I murmur, so disappointed in myself. “I’m sorry.”
“And that’s why my mother would love you.”
“Because we have similar taste?”
“No, because you can hold your hands up when you’ve fucked up.” He turns a sardonic smile my way. “You thought they were Katherine’s.”
I absolutely did, and I hate myself for that too, because thinking they were Katherine’s would put her in the same class bracket as Evelyn Harrison, and Katherine is miles off Jude’s mother’s league. “I’m not liking myself much at the moment.”
“Get over it. I feel like that most days.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
