Page 100 of Cruel Embers
ChapterFifty
VIOLET
If I’m honest, I’m disappointed to be going home alone. It’s not like I thought of making plans with my parents or Charlotte. I guess I just presumed they’d want to celebrate after. It looks like a microwave meal for one and then bed.
“Thanks for the lift,” I say, leaning over to kiss my dad before unclipping my seatbelt and getting out of the car. My mum climbs out of the back and hugs me.
“Oh, I nearly forgot, this is for you.”
She holds out a card.
“Thank you.”
“We’re proud of you, love,” she says before taking my vacant seat in the front.
I go to the main door, let myself inside, and then look back and wave as my dad pulls away.
Taking a deep breath, I take the stairs to my flat. Getting that text from Nathan and knowing he was there but still left without speaking to me makes my chest ache and my stomach feel hollow.
It wasn’t easy for me to admit to him how I felt, which hurts the most. I didn’t expect some declaration of his love or a grand gesture, but it makes me want to barricade my heart and keep it safe.
I open my front door, and the smell of cooking hits my senses. Kicking off my boots, I make my way to my room, sling my bag on my bed, and strip out of my clothes before pulling on my fluffy flamingo onesie and heading towards the kitchen.
“Char?” I call out. “I thought you said you were going home?”
However, the person before me is not Charlotte.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Nathan turns from the stove with a spatula in hand.
“I’m making us dinner.” He turns back and lowers the temperature on the hob, leaving the spatula on the edge of the saucepan, and then starts moving towards me. I take a step back.
“How did you get in?” I question, which is stupid. The only other person apart from Wayne who has keys is…
“Lottie,” he replies, his eyes roaming over my face, specifically my temple where I had my stitches, but the way I’ve styled my hair, you wouldn’t know it.
I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting to see him, not standing in my kitchen looking like sex on a stick, cooking us dinner.
My face heats, and I clear my throat as I navigate around him to go to the fridge in need of some liquid courage.
He watches me. I can feel his eyes on me as I pull out a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a wine glass from the cupboard and fill it almost to the brim.
Taking a huge mouthful, I swallow and let out a small shudder.
I know I need to face Nathan. I can’t just ignore him and drink my wine. Suddenly, the onesie is almost suffocating along with the heat from the oven. Turning around, I keep my eyes cast down and walk over to the sofa and take a seat, unable to miss the vase full of my favourite flowers in the middle of the coffee table. Next to it is a theatre programme from the show.
“Tink?”
The nickname causes my heart to jump inside my chest, and I worry I’ll drop my glass now. My hand is slightly trembling as adrenaline courses through me.
He crouches in front of me until I lift my eyes to meet his before focusing on the collar of his shirt.
“I missed you,” he says softly, and I swear I cease to breathe for a few seconds, but then take a big inhale as his hands move to my knees. My skin is heating even more. “I’m sorry for not texting until today.” One of his hands slides up my thigh. Not even the fabric of my onesie stops me from feeling his ascent. “For not calling you, for leaving you the way I did.”
I close my eyes, unsure if I can handle him touching me while declaring all the above.
“Look at me, Tink.”
