Floored Page 16

I blinked. "What now?"

  She tapped her temple. "You look very deep in thought." She approached, sliding her hands up my chest. Quite naturally, my own settled onto her hips. As I pulled her closer, her eyes softened. "It's sexy."

  I hummed, dropping a kiss onto the curve of her newly exposed neck. "Nothing interesting."

  Lia sighed, melting fully into my embrace. For a few moments, we stood like that, and I tried to remember how long it had been, before her, that someone had simply hugged me for the pleasure of it.

  Maybe that was why I was so addicted to touching her whenever she was in reach. Because I could and because it felt fucking great. I wasn't reading between the lines of those touches, and neither was she. I'd found someone—something—quite remarkable, even if it was quite by accident.

  It was in that quiet embrace, and recognizing the power of it, that I had an idea.

  "What do you say to a small detour on the way back?"

  Lia's face spread into an excited grin. "I say yes."

  My girl was always up for an adventure. Excited to attend a losing match, simply because the atmosphere was electric, unafraid to stand for hours in the rain to experience it. As I watched that look in her eye again, at the thought of experiencing something new, I desperately wanted to get this right. I wanted to be the parent I'd never had. I wanted my child to know love and support with this beautiful woman to teach him or her about excitement and adventure and loyalty, and hopefully me to teach them about hard work and grit and the beauty of achieving your goals by doing something you loved.

  Shortly, we were back in my car and driving down the roads of West Yorkshire under a cloudy November sky. As we approached Stocksbridge, the steel mill looming off in the distance, I couldn't believe she hadn't asked me a single question about where we were going. Lia relaxed in her seat, taking in the sights with a soft smile on her face.

  "I always wonder if people get this excited when they drive around my state, you know?"

  "What do you mean?" I made a turn away from town and toward the farm where I'd grown up, the roads growing smaller, the houses farther apart in the green countryside.

  "This is all normal to you, you know? But every stone house I see, every perfect little green hedge, or rolling hill, it's nothing like what I see back home, and I just want to soak it all up. I wonder if people drive around Seattle and feel like that."

  I glanced at her with amusement. "I'd reckon so. You have mountains in Washington, yeah?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  "Then I'm guessing they all gawk out the windows just like you are, love."

  She smacked me in the stomach, and I laughed. It was a good momentary distraction because as I took the final turn, my parents’ house rose up just over the next hill. It looked exactly the same. Mentally, I had to do some calculations to remember exactly when I'd been back last. Typically, we gathered at Lewis’ house or pub so we were both on neutral ground.

  The house was all weathered rock and dark-framed windows, probably the same ones that needed to be replaced the last time I'd been there. Five years was what I figured. Wooden fencing stretched along emerald plots of grass, and a few fat sheep grazed near the house. The barn had been painted, a fresh coat of white covered the planks of wood. I could hear the goats, a new addition since I'd been out last, and tried to muster a smile when Lia exclaimed when they crowded the fence as soon as she got out of the car.

  "Oh, how cute are you guys?" she said, laughing when one particularly brash one jumped over the group to try to find food in her hand. "Goodness. I wish I'd come prepared." She held up a hand to shade her eyes and glanced at the sprawling land surrounding the house. "Where are we?"

  A quiet voice interrupted before I could answer. "J-Jude?"

  My mum was standing in the door that led to the kitchen, a bright red towel clutched in her hands as she stared at me like she'd seen a bloody ghost. Her hair was still dark, streaked liberally with gray along her temples, something she'd never felt the need to hide.

  I came next to Lia and set my hand on her back. She glanced at me with a million and a half questions in her eyes. I smiled down at her, then looked back to the house. "Hello, Mum."

  "Ohhhhh," Lia breathed. She cut me a glance. "You could've warned me," she whispered under her breath.

  "Surprise," I whispered back.

  Lia lifted her chin and smoothed a hand over her hair. Given we had made no plans other than to drive back home, she'd dressed for comfort with a massive hoodie over jeans and tall brown boots. Looking at her, there was absolutely no indication she was pregnant. She looked young and pretty.

  "What are you doing here?" Mum asked, eyes traveling from me to Lia and back again.

  I curled a hand around Lia's shoulders. "We just took a holiday in Haworth for a few days. Thought we'd drop by to say hello on our way back home."

  Her hand came up, and I noticed the tremor in it as she laid it on her chest. "Right. Your father is out in the backfields. He won't be back for about thirty minutes yet."

  I nodded, just as Lia cleared her throat sharply.

  Right.

  "This is Lia Ward, Mum."

  Lia smiled, moving forward to hold her hand out. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. McAllister."

  "You're American."

  The smile on Lia's face deepened, a dimple appearing in her cheek. "Your son said that in almost the same tone the night we met."

  My mom didn't smile back. Probably because she wasn't terribly happy to see us.

  They didn't do surprises well. Any change to their routine, to their schedule, was absolutely out of the question.

  Lia's smile faded slowly. "Umm, what kind of farming do you do? Jude hasn't told me too much."

  She hummed. "Of course, he hasn't. We have sheep and goats. We sell milk and cheese, the wool from the sheep, and the meat, of course. But we've started doing tours as well. That's where my husband is. He's got a school group here for a tour."

  My head reared back. "You do? Dad hates people stomping around his farm."

  "There's good money in agritourism, Jude." She glanced at Lia briefly. "We can't all make millions of pounds a year playing games."

  Lia's mouth fell open before she snapped it shut.

  I may not have reacted on the outside, but the arrow buried deep, even if she hadn't intended it that way. That was the thing about my parents. In their discomfort of what I did, the success I'd found, they managed a razor-sharp level of disdain that I wasn't even sure they were aware of.

  "Quite true, Mum." I lifted my chin. "You could cash the checks I've sent you, though, if he hates doing tours so much."

  "We're perfectly capable of supporting ourselves, Jude." She did some chin lifting of her own. "Riding on your coattails is best reserved for others."

  Lia, as I expected, didn't let that barb slide. She smiled again, but I could see how it cost her. "I certainly hope that wasn't aimed at me, considering I've just met you and you know nothing about me."

  My mum's cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "No, not you. I apologize if it sounded like it. Past experiences have taught us that almost everyone who meets him wants something from him, is all."

  "Well," I said slowly, "I suppose you'll be pleased to know that Lia had absolutely no idea who I was when we met. Called football—what was it again, love?—boring?"

  Lia blinked. "Umm, yeah. Somewhere along those lines. I just ... I didn't understand the game like I do now."

  "She's here studying at Oxford for Michaelmas," I told my mum, who was regarding Lia with guarded curiosity in her eyes. "Getting her master's degree in English Literature."

  That softened her just the slightest. My mum always loved to read.

  Lia glanced between my mum and I. "I specialize in the Brontës. That's why Jude took me to Haworth," she said, looking up at me with a strained smile.

  "I was always fond of the parsonage museum myself," my mum said.

  I glanced over at her. "You've been there?"

  "I do travel
some places, Jude," she answered crisply.

  It was that tight reply, the defensive snap in her voice that pushed me just slightly over the edge of propriety. "Right. Just not anywhere you might see me do my job, right? And certainly not if I ask you to."

  Lia tightened her fingers around mine, eyes focused on the ground.

  My mum lifted her chin. "You gave us no notice, Jude. Just like always, you expect the world to stop revolving simply because you've asked it to. But people have lives and jobs that don't bend to your whim."

  "I wasn't asking you to bend to my whim, Mum."

  "Weren't you?" She shook her head sadly. "You messaged your father at midnight the night before your match without so much as a please, it would mean something to me if you came."

  With my free hand, I gestured to Lia. "I wanted you to meet her, Mum. That's why I wanted you to come to the match. Didn't Lewis tell you?"

  "I haven't connected with your brother in a couple of weeks. We've been busy, and so is he. Doing our jobs."

  Lia lifted her head, giving me an unfathomable look.

  I swallowed, wondering why I'd expected this to go any differently. "And who am I to understand real work, is that right?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "You didn't have to," I tossed back.

  My mum exhaled, looking tired and older than I remembered. "Why did you come like this, Jude? What did you think would happen?"

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her Lia was pregnant, that her first grandchild was on the way, and I'd never, ever make it feel the way they made me feel. But even five minutes with her, and everything went to shit. I might know exactly how to hit the self-destruct button on my relationship with my family, but even I wasn't so stupid.

  "Fuck if I know, Mum. Thought you could meet someone important to me and not have it explode at our feet, but I guess that was hoping for a bit too much, wasn't it?"

  Her chin wobbled, but she didn't so much as blink.

  "Tell Dad I said hello."

  Lia held fast when I tried to turn toward the car, and I gave her a questioning look, but her eyes were fastened on my mum.

  "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. McAllister," she said. Lia refused to budge until my mom's shocked gaze came back to her face. "And I hope we can meet again soon under better circumstances. I'd love to hear more about what you do here."

  My mum let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Nice to meet you too, dear."

  Then instead of waiting for me to take the lead, Lia pivoted, all but dragging me back to the car, where she let go of my hand in order to climb back in.

  She didn't say a word until we'd driven down the dirt lane that led away from the farm, and when she did, I found myself bracing for a verbal tirade.

  "Well," she said softly, "that explains a lot, doesn't it?"

  I exhaled a laugh. "Yeah. I suppose."

  "At least when I get Isabel from the airport next week, I can tell her I've met your mother now."

  Pressing my foot on the accelerator I tried to ignore Lia’s strained tone, and the worried wrinkle in her brow. I tried to ignore the fact she didn't hold my hand on the drive back. Or that when I dropped her off in Oxford, the kiss she gave me was subdued.

  "Thank you for the lovely getaway," she whispered, smoothing her hands along the collar of my shirt.

  "Are you cross with me?" I asked, unable to stand the feeling that I'd just wedged a chasm between us.

  "Not cross, no," she said. "I'm ... sad for you, I think. I don't know exactly what I feel."

  That helped a bit but not entirely.

  The one thing I seemed to do right suddenly felt precarious. I kissed her again, ignoring the way a couple of arseholes whistled as they passed.

  She pulled away with a breathless laugh.

  "Talk soon, yeah?" I asked.

  Lia nodded. "Yeah."

  But as I drove away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just laid the groundwork for my own demise.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lia

  Isabel and I made it three days of blissful sister coexistence after she arrived.

  At Heathrow, there was screaming and crying and hugging and soul-deep happiness that one of my people was finally here with me.

  There was the requisite touristy stuff and jet lag recovery the first few days. We ate the bangers and mash and did bus tours, and she drank beer (I only snuck one sip because I really, really missed the occasional beer).

  "Can we go in there? I think I need a Union Jack T-shirt."

  "You do know that we'll pass about a hundred different stores exactly like this one."

  She grinned. "Indulge the tourist, please. If this is what will keep me awake until tonight, then you're going to help me find a T-shirt."

  I held up my hands. "Fair enough."

  She was quicker than me, partially because her legs were longer, but also... not pregnant people were faster than pregnant people.

  "Your bump is adorable," she commented, flicking me a quick glance as she slid hangers down the rack.

  I ran my hand over it. "I feel good. My energy picked back up around eleven weeks, but I swear, if I keep eating this many scones, I'm going to gain a thousand pounds."

  Isabel smiled as she held a shirt up to look at it. I could tell in her face she wasn't sure what to say next.

  "What is it?"

  She carefully hung the shirt back up. "Nothing."

  I held up a white T-shirt covered in a black and white rendering of Queen Elizabeth with a red and blue lightning slash running down her face ala David Bowie.

  Isabel grinned and motioned for it. "Perfect."

  We wandered a little bit after she got the shirt. Since Isabel wasn't a student, I couldn't take her inside the Rad Cam (the Radcliffe Camera, also known as one of Oxford's most famous buildings), but I could show her my favorite place to sit and work. We worked our way through Oxford that way during the first couple of days, finding small nooks to sit where she could caffeinate, I could eat, and I'd get tiny snippets of what I was missing back home.

  "What about Emmett?" I asked. "How's he doing? He's never around when I talk to anyone."

  Isabel smiled. "The little prince is fine. I already told him he's going to be dethroned as the favorite when you give birth."

  "You did not."

  "Hell yeah, I did. Kid needs to be prepared."

  I rolled my eyes. "You have the tact of a semi-truck, Isabel. He's nine. No one will be replacing anyone."

  She glanced at me over the rim of her cappuccino. "You'll be living there, though, right? When you go home?"

  My fingers plucked at the scone, and I took my time slathering cream and jam on it. It wasn't the first probing question I'd gotten from my big sister, but it was just the most obvious.

  "I guess," I said. "I hadn't really thought about it."

  Isabel hummed. The subject dropped. For another day at least.

  On day four of her trip, we made our way into London where she'd booked another hotel for a few nights, and at her insistence, I packed a bag to stay with her, working on my paper while she slept in until late morning. We were just around the corner from Hyde Park, a beautiful tree-lined street in a quiet neighborhood, and when she stopped to take some pictures of an overflowing flower cart on a street corner, she poked me again.

  "Have you thought of any names?"

  My hand went straight to my belly. I found myself doing that more in the past few weeks. It was an interesting sort of reassurance. Yup, the bump was still there, as if I couldn't tell from the aching back and ravenous appetite and massive boobs.

  "Not really," I answered.

  We waved goodbye to the woman selling the flowers and pulled our hoods up to turn the corner toward Hyde Park.

  "Isabel is always a classic choice for a girl," she said about a block later.

  I nudged her with my shoulder, laughing under my breath. "If it's a girl, there's no shortage of family names I could use."

  "True." For a
while, I thought she was going to drop that subject too. We crossed the street and entered the park through the black wrought-iron gates. "I thought there'd be snow," she commented as she crouched to take a picture of one of the first fountains we passed.

  "It's kinda like Seattle." I tucked my hands into my coat and shivered. "It can get cold enough for snow, but it's just not common. Lots of rain, lots of clouds, but honestly, I don't mind it."

  She stood and gazed over the park. Now that her jet lag had dissipated, the dark circles under her eyes were gone. I didn't know why I studied her as if I'd expected her to change in the months since I'd last seen her. Maybe because I'd changed so drastically. But she was the same Isabel, tall and striking. Her hair, darker than the rest of ours, was braided down her back, and she had her head covered with a black cap. Even dressed casually, something about her was intimidating and drew the eye when she passed.

  "You look good," I told her when we started walking again.

  "So do you."

  "I look pregnant, Isabel. You have to say that."

  "I don't have to say shit, Lia. If I was worried about how you looked, I'd ask you about whether you were eating healthy or getting enough exercise." She softened her response with a teasing smile. "Your looks are not one of the things I'm worried about."

  I stopped walking. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  Iz muttered something under her breath that I couldn't hear.

  "I didn't hear you."

  "You weren't supposed to hear me." She pointed at a restaurant up around a curve in the path. "Need anything?"

  I shook my head. "No, I'm okay for now. But if you need to use the toilet, let's go in and grab some tea or something."

  "Where's our next stop? I can wait."

  "Kensington Palace," I told her. "It's on the other side of the park."

  "Sweet. Maybe I'll catch a glimpse of William, and I can tell him about the poster Molly used to have on her wall."

  I snorted. "I forgot about that. I told Jude that if I'd come a couple of years earlier and met Harry when he was single, he would've been shit outta luck."

  She smiled but didn't say anything. She'd asked a few questions about Jude, about his job, and about football overseas in general. But I got the sense that my sister was treading very, very carefully. Which was unlike her.