Hate You: Chapter 22

Titch delighted in telling me all about the fact that Tabitha had a date. He grinned like a fucking Cheshire cat the entire time while my jaw popped with frustration. I had no idea who the fucker was she was going out with, but the idea of anyone putting their hands on what’s mine very nearly sent me over the edge.

It’s how it should be. I knew that, but it didn’t stop my imagination running on overdrive since the second he gave me all the details. I’m not sure what he was hoping to achieve by telling me the time and place they were meeting, but if it was for me to turn up and publicly claim her then he was going to be bitterly disappointed because that wasn’t fucking happening. Or at least I didn’t think it was.

Thankfully, I guess, I get a text from my brother Tuesday morning which means at least I won’t be sitting around like a moron while she’s on her date, driving myself insane wondering how they’re getting on and if he’s going to satisfy her quite like I did.

Harrison: Mum + Dad’s tonight. Suit to try on. Be there. No excuses.

Rolling my eyes at the phone, I send a back a quick reply saying that I’ll be there and slide it back into my pocket. I’ve only got one client booked in today. He’s coming in for his second session on an intricate back piece that we’ve been working towards for some time, so at least I know I’ll be able to focus on that all afternoon and not my impending family time, and certainly not her and her date.

Before I know it, I’m pushing through Mum and Dad’s front door and making my way down towards the kitchen where I already know everyone will be.

“Whoa, you were right, he is still alive,” Dad says with a laugh when he spots me first.

“I’m sure you’d have heard if I weren’t.” He pulls me into a man hug and slaps me on the back. I’m kind of embarrassed by the fact that I’ve no idea when I was last here. All I know is that it’s probably been too long seeing as they’re really pretty great parents. It’s my fucked-up issues that keep me away.

Mum leaves whatever she’s stirring on the stove and comes over to hug me. “I’ve missed you,” she whispers in my ear, making my guilt over not visiting quadruple.

Dad hands me a beer and I pull out a stool from under the breakfast bar.

“Have you sorted a date for the wedding yet? Summer needs her name.”

I roll my eyes as Mum turns her back to the dinner. Of course I’ve not got a date. I only said I’d bring a plus one to shut her up about me needing to settle down.

“I’ve got a couple of options.” Dad almost chokes on his beer.

He pats me on the shoulder as he comes to sit beside me. “So what have you been up to? Where have you been?” Dad starts like they do every time I appear after a long absence.

“Just here and there. Spent some time in America a few weeks ago. Not much to tell really.” It’s a lie, obviously, and like most times I’m here the truth is right on the tip of my tongue. But I can’t help feeling that I’ve kept everything hidden for so long now that confessing everything will hurt them more, knowing that I felt like I couldn’t confide in them from the beginning.

Thankfully, Harrison, Summer, and my niece and nephew arrive before Mum and Dad really get a chance to start digging. After a short and sharp welcome from my brother and a hug from my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Harrison thrusts a suit bag into my hands and all but drags me up the stairs so I can make sure it fits. I rustle both Alfie and Cass’ hair as I pass them, much to their irritation.

He drops down onto the bed in my childhood room after following me inside and crosses his arms. As usual he’s dressed in one of his flashy suits, making the differences between us as stark as ever with me in a ripped pair of stonewash jeans and a black t-shirt with my ink on display. His dark hair is perfectly styled and swept back from his freshly shaven face, whereas my blonde mop is a mess and I’ve not shaved in at least two days.

“Nice of you to show your face for this,” he barks, his eyes holding mine.

“I’m not going to miss your wedding.”

“Forgive me for not having all that much confidence after you bailed on my stag.”

“It was golf,” I groan, stripping off and pulling on the insanely expensive suit I’m being forced to wear to this thing. I hate suits. I hate how restrictive they are, and I hate how boring they are, although the hot pink lining this one is sporting does give it a bit of character, I must admit.

It fits perfectly—unsurprisingly as it’s been tailored for me. My measurements were requested weeks ago so I had little doubt it wouldn’t fit.

“It okay?”

“As far as a suit goes, it’s great, I guess.”

“Can you be at least a little excited about this? I don’t want your miserable fucking face in our photographs.”

“I’ll smile, I promise,” I mutter, giving him a flash of the fakest one I can muster.

“Such a pain in the arse.” He pushes from the bed. “I know this is going to fall on deaf ears, but for the love of god, will you visit Mum and Dad a little more often? They worry about you.”

“They don’t need to.”

“They’re our parents, Zach. It’s their job. You’ll understand when you have your own.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“You can’t be a fucking nomad forever.”

“I’m not. I have a home and a life. None of which involve me having kids.”

“You say that now. Just wait until you meet the one.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

He stops at the doorway, looks back over his shoulder and laughs. “Oh, I’m listening. You’re just forgetting who the oldest and more experienced out of us is. It will happen, Zach. And she’ll knock you on your fucking arse, mate.” With that, he leaves me to remove the damn suit from my body.

I avoid the adults when I eventually head back down in favour of discovering what Alfie’s playing on the PlayStation set up in the family room.

Falling down beside him, I watch him race his Audi around the track a few times before he spins it.

“Let the master have a go.”

After changing the settings so it’s two player, he hands me a controller and off we go.

“How’s it going, Cass?” I ask my niece who’s sitting on the other sofa with her head stuck in her phone.

“Fine.”

I nod, taking Alfie out on a corner. “How’s school?”

“Boring.”

“Looking forward to the wedding?”

She groans. “I guess.”

“Wow, I do love our stimulating conversations.” This gets her eyes on me. Not that I’m paying that much attention seeing as I’m winning, but I feel them drilling into the side of my head.

“Well maybe if you were around a little more you’d already know the answers.” Her footsteps sound out on the polished oak flooring before she storms from the room.

“Smooth,” Alfie chuckles.

“You got something to say too?”

“Nope, you do what you gotta do.”

I smile to myself. At least someone under this roof gets me. Even if he is a teenager.

Dinner is tolerable at best, but once Danni arrives and blends in with the rest of the family, I again feel like the outsider as they all sit and discuss the family business and mention people I’ve never heard of. I know that I bring a lot of this on myself by being distant, but I couldn’t imagine anything worse than spending my days working with antiques.

I eat, I drink, I make a few noises at the right time, and then the second I’m able to escape I do with the promise of seeing everyone Friday night at the hotel where the wedding is being held. I tried to tell them all that I’m not needed until Saturday morning, but Mum got this look on her face, her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes watered, and I knew that I didn’t stand a chance.

My intention is to go straight home. The Uber I ordered drops me at the studio. It would be so easy to let myself in and go up to my flat, but that’s the opposite of what happens. Instead I head to a bar in the hope of drowning my sorrows.

One whisky soon turns into a few more, and eventually I find myself surrounded by the guys as we all shoot the shit and get off-our-arses drunk. I spot Titch looking at me inquisitively a number of times, but thankfully at no point does he even mutter her name. I’m grateful because I might be trying to play it cool, but the reality is that I’m picturing her taking him back to her flat. I’m imagining just how he might touch her, how he’ll make her feel.

When my frustration gets the better of me, I knock back my current drink and stand from the seat I’m in.

“I’m done. Laters.”

My name’s called a few times behind me at my sudden departure, but I ignore them all. I’ve got a destination in mind, and no fucker is going to talk me down right now.

The walk to her place is short, and in no time I’m slipping my way into her building and hammering my fist on her door in an attempt to break up whatever’s happening inside.

I guess you could say I’m lucky that no one’s home. At least if she’s gone back to his then I can’t continue to keep picturing them in her bedroom.

Not knowing what to do, I slide my arse down the wall and rest my head back. I only intend to stay there for a few minutes before making the journey home but it’s only a few seconds later that the sound of her heels click up the stairs. I could jump in the lift and disappear before she sees me but that’s the opposite of what I do.

The relief I feel when she appears and I discover she’s alone is greater than I’ll ever admit. The sight of her all dressed up and swaying slightly after a long night stirs something inside, and it’s strong enough to ensure I stay exactly where I am and take what I came here for. Her.

I step up to her and I’m no longer in control of my actions. My need, my desire for the woman takes over everything, and it’s not until she’s crying out my name and pulsating around my cock impossibly tightly that my senses start to slip back in.

Fuck.

My heart pounds erratically in my chest as I pull out and step back from her. She’s laid out on her kitchen counter, looking every bit the seductress she is, and I panic.

My need to take her in my arms and carry her to bed so we can continue is almost all-consuming, but I know I can’t. This woman isn’t mine. She can’t be mine. We’re wrong on so many levels and spending this evening with my family is just a reminder of everything I don’t want. Yet I can’t help myself when it comes to Tabitha.

I intend on walking out without saying a word, but as I step back a warning falls from my lips which I fear gives too much away about how I’m feeling. There’s no fucking way I’m sticking around to find out though. The faster I get away the better.

The rest of the week is fucking torture, and it only gets worse Thursday night knowing that she’s out at the reception desk and almost within touching distance. It would be so easy to go out there and take her, to tell her the things that have been running through my head the last two days that involve things I never, ever thought I’d think, let alone ever consider saying aloud. If it weren’t for this bloody wedding, I’d have fucked off by now, not able to cope with everything that’s building inside me. I’m going to blow at some point. The only question is when.