Hidden Kiss (Love Is The Law 2) (18 page)

Her brain felt skittish, leaping from sensation to sensation
like a kitten with a toy. She shook her head, and stood for a while in the
middle of the room, waiting for some kind of revelation, or even a concrete
idea.

She felt very, very alone.

I'm glad I sent that letter to Kayleigh. I've let it all
slide. Friendships. I thought I could do this all alone - and while Turner was
in prison I concentrated on his family, and myself.

All the missed opportunities now presented themselves to her
and she sighed.

But that's the past,
she realised with a dawning
clarity.
That's the past.

Emily pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket and stared
at it. There were names in her contact list that she barely remembered. She
logged in to facebook and there were long-forgotten friends requests still
waiting for her.

Polly Dalmar
. Her broad face grinned from the
smartphone screen and it made Emily smile in return.

She thumbed "accept" and spent a moment browsing
through Polly's life.
That's how I would like to be. I know this is all a
careful construct of how we want people to see us, but even so. Polly's energy
and warmth - it's magical.

This is ridiculous. I can't just stand on the outside,
looking in.
Her smartphone began to perform some voodoo, matching up
contacts, and she was presented with Polly's phone number, and before she could
talk herself out of it, she phoned her up and invited her over.

* * * *

"I need help."

Polly didn't reply to Emily's opening statement. Instead she
surged forward and enfolded her in a warm-smelling hug of pure acceptance that
had tears springing to Emily's eyes.

Then she stepped back and folded her arms and stared at
Emily, her smile still lingering but her eyes serious now. "Tell me,
pet."

"Everything. I… shit. I haven't asked for help
before."

"With?"

"Anything. Everything. I'm supposed to be an
independent woman, you know?"

"You never asked Turner for help, either, did
you?"

"Nope."

Polly kissed her teeth with a smacking noise, and shook her
head in mock-despair. "And it's definitely over?"

"Yes."

"Tell me more."

"I…"

"Sit!"

Emily jumped, and then sank down onto her sofa, pulling a
colourful blanket around her for comfort. Polly settled next to her, and bit by
bit, Emily told her all about the fire, and the part she suspected Joel to have
in it, and Turner, and all the things she'd done wrong.

Up to, and including, realising she'd made herself isolated
and alone.

Polly listened. Emily was surprised that Polly didn't react
to any of her revelations - not with surprise, horror or even murmurs of
support. She just listened and as Emily relaxed, she found it easier and easier
to talk, until she was exhausted and her mouth was dry.

And the first thing Polly said was not, "oh dear"
or "never mind" or "all men are bastards" but "Well,
I'll get the kettle on, shall I pet?"

"Yes, okay then."

Polly stood up. "And what are you going to do
next?"

Emily winced. "I was rather hoping you'd tell me."
Hang on, I'm reaching out for help here…

Polly's wide grin returned. "Well, okay pet. You've got
a whole heap of stuff to sort out, but let's start with your flat, yeah?"

"Turner, Joel, the debt, my job…"

"It'll all seem much better with a nice cup of tea and
a clean place to live. Got milk in the fridge?"

"Yes, I should have."

"Excellent." Polly rolled up her sleeves.
"Let's get this party started. You get the tunes on the deck and I'll make
a brew and start filling buckets. Did I ever tell you about the time I lived in
a squat in Bristol?"

"Er - no."

"Great. You'll laugh till you're sick. Come on, pet,
let's get started…"

Sunlight streamed through the window and Emily was almost
tempted to throw it open, wide, and let the breeze in.

She resisted. It was the end of May but it was still too
early in the year for the air to be warm enough. Hell, this was Manchester, it
was unlikely to ever be warm enough. She stretched and sat back in her fraying
office chair, and smiled at the morning sunshine.

She allowed herself one distracting game of spider
solitaire, and then returned to her work. The weekly blog posts representing
the charity on Manchester's community website were a discipline that she
welcomed, even if it was sometimes hard to come up with fresh, original
content. Still, it had been worth it. She'd only started doing it ten weeks
ago, and already it had landed her some articles in local magazines. It felt
good to be writing as an official representative of something. Especially now
her job had been made permanent.

"Time for a brew?"

She turned and smiled as Turner emerged from the kitchen,
covered in flour and dough and smears of food. "It's always time for a
brew," she said.

"I thought as much." He had already made it, and
brought the steaming mug of tea over to her desk. "Still working? Haven't
you packed yet?"

"I have, actually. While you were playing the chef in
there, I threw together an overnight bag. It's on my bed. So there."

"Ahh, excellent. Well, food will be ready in about ten
minutes. How's the blog post doing?"

"I'm nearly done. Will you read it through for me?"

"What's it about?" Turner shoved her sideways off
her chair and she hit his arm playfully, before pushing herself back onto his
seated lap, leaning to one side so he could see the computer monitor.

"Debt," she replied, her voice suddenly sober.

"Aha. Okay, then."

Emily let her eyes scan, unseeing, over the lines as Turner
read slowly. Debt still made her stomach churn with guilt and with shame. Every
time she slid behind the wheel of her new-but-second hand car, she felt a
little ill. Every time she went to the bank to check her balance and to print a
statement, which she did weekly, she tasted bile in her throat.

But she knew that she had to live with it - for the moment.
Only by facing it could she drag herself out of it.

And only by accepting help could she beat it. Turner's loan
had been the hardest thing she'd ever accepted.

If she hadn't taken his money, he wouldn't be here now. It
wasn't just a loan of money to tide her over. It had been a symbolic gesture,
and she understood that. Saying yes to it was saying yes to a lot more than
just financial help.

She gained a new relationship and a new start. She tried not
to think about the fact she'd lost her brother. He hadn't been in contact
since, and it was getting harder to hide the fact from their parents.

"I still think about that day," she said. She ran
her hands up his arms and around the back of his neck, leaning her head in
against his, warm skin against skin, and half-closing her eyes. "When I
walked away, and you came after me."

"Not right away," he laughed, snaking his hands
around her waist. "Did I tell what I did first?"

"I assume you went to the bank."

"I did go to the bank," he said. "To check I
could lend you what I did. Then I just walked. I walked around Manchester.
Around the city centre, around the shops, through the parks and down the dodgy
alleyways. I looked at people. I looked at the beggars and the homeless, the
rich and the businesspeople."

"Why?"

"I dunno. I kinda feel I ought to come out with
something all deep and meaningful but there wasn't any kind of revelation.
Except perhaps that none of us are perfect. I have such high standards for
myself, you know. I have to prove myself. Yeah, to society and to my family, I
know that. But mostly, Emily, I have got to prove to myself that I can do
this."

"You can!" She pulled back and studied his serious
face. "I believe in you."

He half-smiled. "Thanks. I guess I just started to
expect a high standard of perfection from everyone else, too."

"You're right to, though."

"Perhaps. Anyway. I just knew that giving you another
chance was like giving myself another chance too. If I hadn't, I was saying
that people couldn't make mistakes, that people couldn't change."

Emily absorbed his words, searching for the meaning.
"People can change for the worse, too."

"Joel?"

"How do you know what I'm thinking!" She laughed.
"But yes."

"And he might change again, once he's out of prison.
But arson is a long, long sentence, especially with the kids in the
house."

She nodded. She had been surprised, and upset, at how many
years Joel had been sentenced to. "Anyway, you've always said that people
can change."

"I know. But now I
understand
it."

"Have you been at the cooking sherry in there?"
Emily teased him, but smiled to take the sting out of her words.

"Cheeky mare." He pulled at her waist, and she let
herself fall into a deep kiss, eyes closed and heart beating hard.

When she broke away, flushed and warm, he pushed her off his
lap, and she squealed in mock annoyance. "Hey! I thought that was heading
somewhere…"

"Not yet." He glanced at his watch. "It's
time for lunch. And then… well, it's a long drive down to London, and those
tickets to the musical were bloody hard to get, you know."

Emily's stomach fluttered. This time, she wasn't going to
let anything spoil the weekend away, and she went back towards him, holding out
her arms so that he enfolded her once more in his embrace, and she nuzzled
against him, and felt safe in his promised future.

Coming in January 2014!

Turner and Emily are building
their life together but there's unfinished business from both of their past
lives…

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Isabella Brooke lives in London, England. Her romances
explore the emotional complexities of lust and love. These novels might be
escapism but they're always rooted in the feelings we've all experienced.

She unwinds by walking in the local parks with her husband
and her dogs, and making the most of London's museums and galleries.

She loves to connect with readers and writers - so find her
on Facebook at
https://www.facebook.com/isabella.brooke.author
.
She also wonders why these author bio things have to be written in the third
person. She's not Yoda.