However, I mustn’t forget- Christmas or not- that I’ve still got a job to do until further notice, so I switch on my laptop on and continue my perusal of all the reviews. I know the answer is in here somewhere.
As I’m scrolling down the rest of the comments, I get a new blog alert by Cummings And Goings:
‘The most annoying, if not the worst, part of our stay at the Old Bell Inn is the hidden alarm clock in our room that kept going off every morning at three-thirty. Someone’s idea of a practical joke. Well, it wasn’t funny. It took us three days – our whole stay – to find it.’
I sit back and stare at the review.
And within the hour, I get another thirty alerts with the same message, bar a few lines here and there. Is there no end to the meanness? And against such a good man? Because he definitely is a good man. And he wants me! I sit back, the thought warming me through and through.
I’m so tormented but at the same time excited at the idea of actually starting a new life in Cornwall, that my mind begins to form plans of all sorts as his face keeps popping into my mind. Mitchell, with his laughter, his broad shoulders and enveloping voice, played on a loop, unwilling to bugger off and leave me alone.
Now unable to concentrate, I move to Russell’s kitchen to make myself my usual cup of hot chocolate. In half an hour it will be heaving with staff, so I’m relishing the quiet. Perched on a stool by the island, I watch the snow gently falling outside the window and nurse my hot mug.
‘What are you doing in here, all on your own?’ comes a voice from the door. The voice that makes my insides melt. Mitchell. Talk of the devil.
He comes to sit next to me, his wild but soft curls begging to be touched. And oh, God, don’t even look at the patch of furry chest peeking out from his shirt.
‘Enjoying the quiet before the kitchen storm,’ I answer as he comes to stand next to me. ‘What have you got there, hot chocolate?’
I nod, making to get up. ‘There’s some left…’
He touches my wrist. ‘I’ll get it.’
I watch as he moves about the kitchen with an assurance that comes from doing things on his own. And I wonder if his ex-wife had done nice little things for him, but I suspect she would have been more on the receiving end rather than the giving one.
It’s like that, in some relationships: one gives and the other takes. I had given and given, while Mark had simply basked in the warmth of my love, letting me spoil him rotten, as if I should be grateful to even be in the same room with him.
‘There’s enough for a refill, you interested?’ he asks and I shake my head. I can barely breathe with him in the same room with me, let alone drink. God, how did this happen to me?
Mitchell comes and sits next to me with his mug. ‘So…’ he says, taking a sip and making an appreciative face.
Initially I’d dubbed him Mr Irish Charm, but only with the intent of sarcasm. Now that I’m getting to know him a bit better, I realise he’s indeed very charming. And completely unaware of it, believe it or not. Doesn’t he have a mirror? And can’t he see the droves of women trailing in his wake?
‘Regarding my job offer, I’ll have the contracts drawn up.’
‘Wait…’
He stops, his eyebrows shooting up in question. ‘Why, what is it?’
I hesitate. This is too much – more than I deserve. The guy’s willing to give me the job without even a proper trial period, based on his feelings for me. He’s basically given me a knife so I can plunge it into his back. I just can’t do it.
‘Mitchell, thank you so much. You are too kind…’
He sighs. ‘But…? Have you changed your mind? Don’t you want to stay?’
It’s not that. I want to stay, more than anything else in the world. But it’s my deceiving him, my keeping back the truth about why I’m here in the first place, that is stopping me. So should I break the spell, and renounce this one moment of happiness that is being offered me? Even if I’ll never see him again afterwards?
I look him in the eye. ‘You hardly know me. You don’t know me at all, as a matter of fact. For all you know I could…’
‘What? Break my heart?’ he takes my face in his hands. ‘Rosie, call me hasty, call me reckless, but in the space of a couple of weeks I’ve learnt one thing. I love you.’
The inflection of tenderness in his voice makes me look up, and the look in his eyes touches me deeply.
He loves me? Like I love him, loves me? It’s too good to be true. And also, it’s way too complicated. ‘But… but…’ I stammer, ‘You can’t be serious – we’ve just met…’
Mitchell grins that cheeky grin. ‘How long do I need to understand that your smile is the only one that I want to see every morning?’
Is that so? Wow. I can’t believe that this is happening to me. ‘But that is crazy, Mitchell,’ I token-protest. Because I believe him. It’s happened to me, too.
‘And I want to take care of you, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.’
I swallow. ‘I don’t care about me. It’s Danny that… he is crazy about you, too, and if something were ever to happen between you and me and it went pear-shaped,’ and, dammit, my voice cracks. Just to be with him, squeezing my hand in this half-lit, strange kitchen so far from my own home, with my little boy safely sleeping upstairs in a warm bed that isn’t even his, makes sense. In some weird way, it feels like home. Because Mitchell is here.
‘Nothing’s going to happen. Rosie. But I need you to feel like you can talk to me. About anything.’
I huff. If only I could.
I lower my head and Mitchell leans in, his lips barely a whisper on my lips. I can feel his breath warming my face, and then another breath as he inhales, his fingers lightly squeezing mine. I am also acutely aware of the heat his body is emanating, and the solidity of his pecs under my cheek.
I feel a sudden, falling tear, just the one, but it’s enough. His eyes follow its movement and his thumb caresses my lower lip.
‘C’mere …’ he whispers, wrapping an arm around me, and pulling me to his chest, his other hand cradling my head. ‘You’re gonna be fine, you and Danny. You’re doing an amazing job, trust me…’
I reach up, my mouth searching his, and he gently nibbles on my lower lip. As my legs melt, I sigh softly, leaning against his chest.
‘Jesus, Rosie…’ He swears, taking my face in his hands, his eyes caressing mine before he brings our mouths together again. ‘I want to make love to you again so badly, but not in that crappy office…’ he whispers.
‘Me, too. But Danny’s napping in your room…’
He chuckles under his breath, revealing white teeth. ‘I’m the owner of a hotel and I can’t get a lousy room.’
I grin. ‘Wanna do it on the kitchen counter?’
He growls. ‘Do not tempt me.’
‘Where, then?’
‘Jesus, Rosie… I’ll take you anywhere you want. I just want to be with you.’
‘Oh, Mitchell…’ is all I can say. His hands on my shoulders are solid, anchoring me to the moment. And before I know what’s what, he rests his forehead against mine, and his lips touch mine in yet another whisper of a kiss that nearly knocks me to my knees.
He caresses my face, his own expression now serious as he blushes. ‘Rosie, I wanted to tell you… I’m keeping the last cottage for myself, and there’s something I need to ask you…’
I nod, swallowing violently, unable to breathe, and he pulls away slightly, to check my reaction. In fear of mucking up this moment, I clutch at his shoulder blades, and he wraps me up in his arms and kisses me slowly and deeply. This man, kind and wholesome and good, is full of surprises. If only I deserved him.
And I realise I need to come clean. Now.
‘Mitchell… there is something I need to tell you,’ I venture. ‘I’d rather not, because you’ll think I’ve kept it from you on purpose. But, if we are really here, at this point, I have to be honest with you.’
He moves in and takes my hands. ‘Tell me what’s bothering you, Rosie.’
I take a deep, deep breath, holding on to his hands for what is possibly the last time ever. Because he will hate me. But I can’t keep hiding the truth from him. He has become too important for me and I need to start this – or end this, as the case may be, in all honesty, come what may. But how?
‘I lied,’ I blurt out before I can stop myself, cringing at the confused expression on his face. ‘I’m not a receptionist. I’m an assistant manager.’
He cocks his head and grins. ‘I knew it. You are much too capable. You’d be perfect for the position of manager here.’
‘Yeah, well, uhm…’
He takes my arm. ‘But why didn’t you tell me? Jesus, was I that unapproachable that you had to lie?’
‘Yes. No. It’s not your fault, Mitchell. But there’s more.’
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘I’m listening.’
Ohgodohgod. I’ve no choice but to tell the truth and all the truth now. I inhale deeply and exhale in a rush. ‘I work for Johnson Hotels.’
He blinks. ‘Ri-ight…?’
‘Head Office.’
‘Ah. I get it now. You were sent to spy on me, so. You are here for an inspection,’ he concludes, letting go of my hands.
I cringe. ‘In truth, it’s more of an investigation.’
His head snaps up. ‘For what?’
‘The bad reviews. But also, missing funds…’ I cringe again as his eyes flash.
‘And you thought I was skimming off the top? Jesus, Rosie, what do you think I am? How could you just come here and lie to me?’
‘I had to,’ I try to explain. ‘I didn’t want to, but everyone else was off on holiday and so they chose me.’
He’s shaking his head, and the hurt in his eyes is like a dagger to my heart. ‘We slept together, and I thought it meant something to you, too. Didn’t it ever occur to you that honesty is a must in a relationship?’
‘I wanted to tell you every day, Mitchell, but my job depended on it,’ I try to explain, but he’s shaking his head, moving away from me.
‘All this time… you let me love you and all this time you were planning my downfall.’
This is surreal. All I wanted was for him not to hate me, and for us to separate unscathed. But I can see it’s too late for that. How can he have not understood? I swallow what feels like a quarry full of boulders in my throat. ‘Mitchell—’
‘How does it feel, Rosie? How does it feel to take a man’s heart in your hands and rip it to shreds? Does it make you feel good? Strong? Congratulations, you’ve completely killed my faith in womankind,’ he hisses, rage altering every single one of his beautiful features. ‘You came with the intention of ruining me.’
‘I didn’t!’
‘No? Then what do inspectors do, exactly? I can’t believe you were writing your little reports on me – which is, at the end of the day, fine – it’s your job, and even jackals have to eat. But you…’ His index is stabbing my heart, without even touching my chest. ‘You actually led me on, with your angelic looks and soft-spoken manner, making me think that you had feelings for me, when all the while you were thinking what an idiot I was to fall for you!’
I’ve hurt him badly and I can’t stand it. I can’t have him thinking I’d ever hurt him on purpose. ‘No, Mitchell, you have to believe me – I never planned to harm you, not ever…’
He snorts and shakes his head, as if to himself, but when he looks up, there’s murder in his eyes. ‘And you know what the worst part is? That you used Danny, too. You used your own son, and the bond between us!’
‘No…’
‘You saw how fond I was of that little lad and you simply took advantage of the situation.’
‘Oh, Mitchell, please don’t be like this. You have to believe me. Do you really think I could ever set out to hurt you?’
‘No. I didn’t. And that’s what kills me. Because I thought you were different. But now I realise that you’re just like every other woman on the planet. You all want something. Even my ex-wife—’ He cuts himself short, breathing hard. ‘I’m a magnet for dishonest women. It’s not your fault if I’m an idiot. It’s mine. And it’s a good thing I found out before it was too late.’
I want to tell him it’s not true, but who am I kidding? It was in effect my task. That I didn’t do a good job of it because I’m not cut out to do that to people, is something he’ll never believe now. ‘Goodbye, Rosie.’
Goodbye, just like that? Why is he treating me as if I had no scruples? I tried to tell him.
I open my mouth to protest again, to tell him that I never wanted to do it, but it doesn’t even sound convincing inside my head. Nor would he ever believe that I was on his side even before I met him. And that after meeting him, I knew he had to be innocent. Yes, that does sound lame even to me, I know. But he should believe me, if he has any kind of feelings for me, shouldn’t he? What can I say? So I close my mouth, because I can’t come up with anything that will change his mind.
It’s done. The inevitable has happened. Mitchell doesn’t believe me and frankly, I can’t blame him. We’ve only just met, and there is nothing there to indicate to him that I am trustworthy in the least. Not even I would believe me.
I want to say something, but the tears are already blurring my vision and I push my fists into my eyes as I brush past him and out of the office for the last time. There’s nothing left for me to do, but to put aside my dreams of him, now and forever. Congratulations on losing a bloke once again, Rosie Anderson.
As I watch his retreating figure, I can literally feel the pieces of my heart breaking.
And then my bloody mobile rings. I have to answer it as it’s Laura and she may need me.
‘Rosie? There’s someone here to see you.’
‘Me? Who is it?’
‘No idea. But he’s pretty dishy, I can tell you that much.’
The only dishy bloke I know is Brad Peters from HO. He’s Susan’s henchman from HR and a real snake. He’ll pat you on the back, even take you out to lunch, make you feel like he’s your best friend and then bam – your P45 is served by dinnertime. And if it’s him, Mitchell, Sally, Laura and everyone at the Old Bell Inn, including me, is buggered. I don’t even want to think about the effect this will have on Mitchell. Heartbreak should never be served alongside a notification of dismissal.
You’d think Susan would wait at least until the day after Christmas. I wish that Mitchell’s new place was already operational, and hope that he has the income to sustain him and his daughter so they can’t harm him in any way.
What can I do but try to play it cool?
As far as I’m concerned, in the next ten minutes, I’ll be unemployed as well. I can’t work at the Old Bell Inn as it’s one of Johnson Hotels’ branches. Meaning I have to look elsewhere. Meaning I’m still in the shit because they’ll want references, and judging by Susan’s eternal love for me, I’m not getting any good ones from her. But that’s not what’s breaking my heart.
‘Danny, you can go to the stables if you like, darling. I’ll come and fetch you later, okay?’
‘Okay, Mum,’ he says and turns down the lane leading to the stables.
The last thing I want is for Danny to see me get sacked. I practically run through the main entrance. The man in the lobby is standing with his back to me, wearing a dark suit. Even from behind I can tell he is fit. And speaking of fit, I think I’m just about to have one as he turns around. Because it’s not Brad Peters come to fire all of us. That would have been a blessing in comparison.
‘Hello, Rosie…’ he says in his gravelly voice. The voice I’d yearned for over the past nine years: the voice of Danny’s father.