Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

L uca

I watch Jackson eyeing up the tray of canapés.

"Help yourself."

"There are . . ." He looks puzzled. "Are you expecting anyone else tonight?"

"Oh, Anna always makes too much. Luckily, they're delicious for breakfast as well, so please don't feel polite that you have to eat everything."

He looks devastatingly handsome in his shirt and trousers, which are just tight enough for me to see how good his body is underneath. It was all I could do to restrain myself from lurching at him when I opened the door. Holding the bottle of wine he brought was my saviour as it gave my hands something to do. Anna shoots me a wink as I pass her vodka to her. I glare back. It's good natured, though she does have a reputation for meddling. I hope she'll refrain tonight.

I feel bad that we've left our guest to eat canapés alone, so I reach for one. They're all crostini, with a choice of goat's cheese and balsamic shallots, caramelised mushrooms, or smoked salmon and dill cream cheese. They're a staple of Anna's dinner parties, and are delicious. I swear she could make these in her sleep. Me taking one breaks the spell of Jackson thinking it impolite if he's the only one eating. I know he must be hungry—he always seems hungry—and I've seen him tackle huge sandwiches at lunchtime. Also, I want to see his face as he tries them. His reaction is perfect, and he mumbles, "delicious." Anna just smiles like a serene cat who knows she's good and is expecting praise.

She has one or two herself, but I know for Anna, the joy is in the creating, not the eating. She downs her vodka and rises, adorning herself with the apron again.

"Lu, can you come and get the wine for the first course?" I dutifully follow her to the kitchen, fetch the wine out of the fridge, and reach for the corkscrew.

"Doesn't he scrub up well?" is her opening gambit.

"I guess."

"C'mon, I saw the way you were looking at him. It's a good job your trousers aren't any tighter."

"Of course he looks fantastic, the man is an adonis, but Anna, please don't mess this up for me." She smiles at me and shoos me out of the kitchen.

I head back to the lounge and tell Jackson that we're allowed into the dining room now. The room is large and dominated by the table, which could easily seat twelve people. I've only seen it used to capacity a couple of times. Aunt Frances liked to entertain, but she usually liked her gatherings to be small. Anna had found a couple of candelabras, which I'd forgotten Aunt Frances owned. The best silver cutlery is out, and a beautiful dinner service which I'd only ever seen once before. It's all very art déco and extremely elegant. Anna bought some flowers earlier and created a magnificent centrepiece on the table. Thankfully we aren't all seated at opposite ends of the table—the places are set cosily together.

Jackson looks suitably awed.

"Anna is a designer—mostly of costumes, but she is multi-talented. The job she's going to the States for is to work on the production of a major film."

"Well deserved, I'd say," Jackson replies. "Now, where would you like me to sit?"

"Anna has already claimed the head of the table herself, so either side is fine." It's usual for Anna to sit at the head of the table—she likes to keep her eye on the proceedings—but it means I'll face Jackson. It's going to be a tough time sitting so close to him. He chooses a seat and I fill his wine glass, then mine and Anna's, with the Chardonnay she's chosen to accompany the first course—pan-fried scallops with pancetta and watercress—which she brings in a moment later.

Jackson's asking Anna about her work and new job, but I'm not really listening. I'm watching Jackson—watching him eat, and laugh at something Anna has said. I make sure I'm eating something though. Anna would tell me off if I didn't, though I'm not really hungry—not for food, that is. What I want is sitting across the table from me.

"Luca. Luca!" It takes me a moment to realise that Anna's calling me. I stare at her with a stupid look on my face.

"Really Luca, pay attention. Can you come and get the wine for the main course?" I shake my head slightly to try and get rid of the brain fog—Jackson gives me a little grin.

Fuck, I'm nearly done for.

I make it to the kitchen and back with the wine before Anna can open her big mouth. If she wants to say anything, she can wait until later—much later—like when she gets back from America later. Right now, I don't want her opinions. Though, now I have to be alone with Jackson, and although I could argue that is what I want, I can't think of a single thing to say to him. Luckily for me he seems comfortable to keep talking. It's probably about the food or something, but my head's too much of a mess to take it in.

Anna brings in the main course—harissa chicken with a giant couscous salad—and I pour the sauvignon blanc. I make more of an effort to eat. The last thing I want is the wine to go to my head, or I might do something I'll regret.

Do what exactly? I know Jackson's straight. Anna's right that it doesn't normally stop me, but usually, I don't mind if I get the brush off. This time, the stakes are so much higher. I've spent a lot of time running through scenarios in my head, of how I can broach the subject with Jackson—or show him somehow that I'm interested—but all lead to embarrassment if he says no, and I'm not sure I can bear that. I don't realise that I've wandered off into my own head again until I get nudged under the table. It's Jackson, with his foot. That gets my attention instantly and I'm on high alert. Anna and Jackson share a secret smile.

Fuck, what did I miss?

"I was just saying, you should open the garden to the public." Anna's smooth, too smooth for my liking. I eye her warily.

What. The. Fuck. Did. I. Miss?

"I, err . . . I don't know." Whatever it is I'm prepared for, it isn't this question. "Is it possible?" I direct this to Jackson.

"Everything's possible with a bit of work." He drops his eyes, chasing the last of his food round the plate.

What is that supposed to mean? I know he has a record of piling meaning onto seemingly innocent statements, but I'm not prepared for one now. I haven't been paying attention. I decide that the only way out of it is to direct it back to what we should be talking about.

"The garden?" Jackson puts down his cutlery, raises his head, and smiles at me.

"Yes, the garden. It'll take some work, but yes, it is possible that you could open it to the public." That's a repeat of what he said, and yet it's not what he said at all. I feel on the back foot. Has Anna been meddling? I look at her for help, and she briefly covers my hand with hers.

"All I'm saying is that I think you should consider it."

Does she mean the garden? She means the garden, right?

She turns back to Jackson. "I haven't had a chance to see it yet. Could you show it to me tomorrow?"

Phew, she means the garden.

I don't wait to be called to help with the wine for dessert, a pinot noir that Anna had picked to go with her speciality—dark chocolate mousse with a coffee cream. It's served in a coffee cup with a cinnamon biscuit on the side. I don't fetch it right away as I can feel a panic attack coming on. I lean over the central island trying to calm down and trying to breathe. Anna brings in the dinner plates.

"Really, Lu." I can tell she's not impressed by my performance this evening, so I know I'm not going to get any sympathy.

"What were you talking about?" I struggle to get the words out.

"You'd know if you'd been listening."

"Anna," I growl.

"The garden." She sounds too innocent.

"What else?" My mind heads in a different direction—a worse case scenario situation—and I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate. As she passes, Anna leans close.

"Shall I fetch your boyfriend to give you a hug?"

"Fuck off." My friend can be a real bitch sometimes. She relents though, seeing how bad I am, and starts to rub my back. She's done this a thousand times, and I begin to calm down and breathe normally. I straighten up a little.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Shall I give Jackson a few tips?"

"You really can be a bitch, you know."

"Relax, we didn't say anything. We didn't even talk about you. We spoke about the garden. But I like Jackson, he is a deep one, isn't he?" She's too perceptive to have not picked up on his meanings—hell if I can, she can a hundred times over.

"Please help me not mess this up?"

"I think your Jackson is far more into you than you think he is. I've seen the way he looks at you."

"Which is what?"

"Like a delicate flower to be nurtured. Now go, before he wonders what's happened."

"Bitchy witch," I call as I leave the kitchen.

Is that how Jackson looks at me? I'm not sure I want to be a delicate flower, but then again, I've seen the way he handles the young plants.

Gods help me. I try to act normally when I enter the dining room.

"I'm sorry." I feel shitty for losing it during dinner. "I've been a crap host."

"Are you okay?" Jackson's face is full of genuine concern.

"I'm fine, I've just been a bit distracted."

"Can I help?"

Damn him and his wanting to help. No, of course not. "You are the distraction," I want to say, but then yes, of course you can help.

No brain, not now.

Luckily, Anna appears with dessert before I check out again. I really have to keep it together—the tension is driving me insane.

I manage to get through dessert alright, and to join in the conversation. Jackson tells us of some of the famous gardens he's visited and when I express an interest, he offers to take me to visit some.

Although Anna didn't want any help with the dinner preparations, she has no such qualms about clearing up, and we're both soon pressed into service for clearing away and washing up. Jackson looks pleased at this. I think he likes to be doing something, and tries to help wherever he can. He washes up, I dry, and Anna makes the coffee—only fair considering how much work she put into the dinner. Which she declares a success, and says that Jackson is a good and appreciative guest. I wonder if she's drunk too much wine.

When everything has been tidied away, Jackson says he should go, but after some subtle bullying on Anna's part, is soon in the lounge with another drink in his hand. It's the merlot, which Anna opens and says it would be rude for a guest not to drink the wine they brought. Anna is lounging on the sofa. Jackson has claimed an armchair on one side, and I the one on the other, so we form a triangle.

I'm too tense to try to make small talk, but thankfully Anna's a master and I can just add a word or two. I don't zone out again, which means I notice as a sly look comes over Anna's face.

"Have you ever played Never Have I Ever?" she asks. I don't bother answering—she knows the answer to that—but I do glare at her. What is she up to?

"Yeah, when I was about fifteen," snorts Jackson.

"Oh, it'll be much more interesting now you're older." Anna smiles and fills everyone's glasses. The first few rounds are very tame. I learn Jackson hasn't been skiing—well, neither have I. Never sung in public, shoplifted, or been on a blind date—can't say the same about me.

Anna lures us in with a few safe questions and then . . . boom!

"Never have I ever romantically kissed a man." Jackson swings his gaze between us both, slightly wary, but then he seems game and takes a drink. Anna looks pleased. I give her my best "die-bitch-die" stare.

"Your turn Luca," she says, pointedly refusing to look at me.

"Never have I ever gotten a tattoo."

Jackson takes a drink. Interesting. I would very much like to know where his tattoo is. It's his turn.

"Never have I ever painted my nails."

Anna's are clearly painted and for me, well, it was a phase a long time ago. We both take a drink. Anna's turn again.

"Never have I ever wanted to kiss someone in this room."

What the actual fuck! I turn on her, furious.

"What are you playing at, Anna?" I hiss.

She just looks at me calmly.

"Go after him." I haven't even realised that Jackson is no longer there.