Every Little Thing

Chapter Thirty

            The house was huge, as well as perfect. It had a certain feel to it; a beautiful air that made me feel comfortable. I was also completely in love with it; the wallpaper, the furniture, the spiral staircase, the old wooden floorboards and the grand big fireplaces all came together to form this amazing place of beauty. 

            He led me to the kitchen and I sat down at the small table for two as he leans against the counter on the far side of the room. His face is masked, as it was the first time that I met him; but amusement is not evident now. His eyes are what give him away; they scan my body, my face, and finally burn a hole into my left hand; the hand that proudly wears a shining ring. 

            The silence looms in the room while we just stare at each other, taking each other in after all this time. He crosses his arms in front of him and I decided to speak in order break the silence. 

            “So, how have you been?" 

            “I don’t know," he answers back. 

            “Well, I’m just… I’m just here to see how you are," I lie. I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Sure, I could tell him Shane forced me to come, but then I’d sound insulting and quite like a petulant child. He stared at me again, probably processing everything. 

            “So, the house is amazing," I say, trying to make conversation; but he’s having none of it. He knows that this small talk is fake. He knows that the smile and the facade I’m putting on for him is nothing but a mirage to cover up the truth; I’m getting married to someone else. 

            He suddenly moves from the counter to pick up a packet of cigarettes from the drawer, a bottle of wine from the fridge and heads towards the back door. “I can’t do this unless I smoke," he mumbled. I take that as an indirect invitation for me to follow him. 

            He makes his way up the path of the back garden, which led to a little plot that was domed over with tree branches and comfortable looking chairs were scattered around a bonfire pit. He takes out a packet of matches from his pocket and strikes it to make fire before throwing it into the pit to start the bonfire. He then takes out a cigarette and places it between his lips as he fumbles with a lighter. I notice that his hands were shaking despite his somber body language. 

            “Those will kill you, you know," I say as he inhales air through the cancer stick. 

            “You’ve never complained before," he mutters in a solemn voice before repeating his actions. The fire in the pit has grown into a reasonably big one and the glow illuminated his face in a beautiful way. 

            I can’t deny that after all this time, he was still unbearably handsome. His hair was straight and long; it was completely unnoticeable that he had a lump of it shaved off years ago for an operation. He was staring at the fire intently, although I could see that his gaze was not focused. 

            He sat down in a seat and I mirrored his actions as he takes the bottle and unscrews the top before taking a drink right from the bottle. He holds it out for me to take and I stare at him like he’s got three heads. 

            “No one’s going to know that you took a drink of wine from the bottle, Bree," he smirked. His eyes were still trained on the fire and I sighed. I didn’t feel it was beneath me; it’s just a shock to go from chandeliers and champagne to cheap wine and bonfires. 

            A half an hour later, the wine has made me comfortably cozy and he can finally look me in the eye and we’re talking like we’ve never been apart. He went back into the house and brought me one of his oversized tee shirts that still smelt like him; smoke and axe.

            “What do you mean you don’t watch The X Factor?" he asks before bursting out in a fit of laughter. 

            “I just don’t watch it! I mean, it’s so stupid; and Simon Cowell makes me want to run out of the room, screaming," I laugh back and I can see that he’s clutching his sides, trying to calm himself. “So, you never told me what you’ve been doing with yourself, Mr. Scott," I say after we’ve calmed down. 

            “Well, I finished school, then accepted my place in Princeton, which was honestly the best decision I’ve ever made. The place is amazing. I finished up there and now I’m training to be a full time special needs assistant," he finished with a smile.  I can see this is something that he’s very proud of. “And what about you?" he asked as his eyes bore into mine. 

            “I moved into the city and I opened a bakery, actually." 

            “Sweet, just like you," he says as his gaze finds its way back to the fire. I smile at his words that slip into the conversation so easily.

            “So have you, uh, been seeing anyone?" I ask and he shakes his head. 

            “No; no one at all," he replies. I hate myself for feeling my stomach clench at this new information.

            “I mean, college was a fun time and I suppose I got asked out a lot; but no one was really what I needed," he says in a dazed voice, as if his mind was elsewhere. “I suppose the ring on your finger was given to you by whatshisface," he says in the dazed voice again. I sigh before twirling the ring on my finger. 

            “Mason, yeah. We’re getting married" I say quietly and stare at the fire with him. 

            “When?" he asks.

            “Thirty-nine days from tomorrow," I say back and I can see him nod out of the corner of my eye. “You should come. I mean, if you wan-" 

            “I’ll think about it," he says in a quiet voice before it goes silent. “How long will you stay here for?" he asks with an almost playful tone.

            “All week. Mason’s out of town, so there’s no point of going back to an empty house" I say and I see a ghost of a smile cross his lips. 

            “So, will you come see me tomorrow?" he asks, finally looking at me. 

            “Okay," I say with a smile, and he returns it.

            I blamed it on the wine at the time, but my insides started to glow just like the fire crackling in front of us.