The Devil Inside, page 10
Mel took a step back.
Shit. Was she scared of him?
But then she smiled, her hands moving restlessly against her legs. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so jumpy. I just didn’t sleep very well.’
‘The dreams?’
‘Yeah. And I thought I heard someone moving around out here. I thought it might be you and called out, but there was no response.’
‘I didn’t hear you.’
‘I know. When I came upstairs to see if it was you and say you don’t have to be quiet for me, there was nobody here.’
‘Maybe you imagined it. There are a lot of noises out in the country.’
She rubbed her brow. ‘Yeah, except I swear I heard the door close.’ She pointed at the front. ‘I went out to see who it was, but it was too cloudy for there to be any moonlight and I couldn’t see anyone.’ She shrugged. ‘After that, it took me ages to go back to sleep.’
‘Maybe it was Craig going to the studio to jam. Sometimes when one of us can’t sleep, we do that.’
‘Maybe. Although wouldn’t he use the door to the joining hallway?’
Phil shrugged. ‘He might have wanted to get some air first. You know us artistic types—unpredictable.’
Her brow furrowed a little more. ‘Yeah. It was probably that.’
She still looked worried. ‘Do you want me to ask Craig if it was him?’
She bit her lip then shook her head. ‘No. You’re probably right. I don’t want to get all weird on him.’
‘Are you sure?’ After what happened at the hospital with the reporter, he didn’t want to take any chances. If she said someone was creeping around during the night, then he wanted to put her mind at rest.
‘Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just being stupidly jumpy, that’s all. Probably new place syndrome and all that. After all, who would be creeping around in the middle of the night all the way out here?’
‘Right.’ She wanted to drop it and so he would drop it. But he’d still ask Craig if he’d been up last night. He didn’t want Mel to feel uncomfortable.
She stood there, fingers working in front of her. He gestured at the couches. ‘Do you want to sit? I can get you some breakfast.’
‘Um …’ She glanced at the bassinet. ‘I don’t want to wake the baby.’
Phil looked down at Arwen. ‘You won’t. That old saying about sleeping like a baby is true for her. I don’t think she’d wake if someone slammed a door right next to her.’
‘That will come in handy for if you have to take her to practice with the band,’ she said, taking a step forward. ‘Although we should probably get her some little noise-cancelling headphones anyway.’
His smile died. ‘Yeah.’ She faltered, her brow furrowing in consternation. She opened her mouth, but he turned away and headed towards the kitchen, saying, ‘I’ll make you some waffles. You always liked waffles on a Saturday morning.’
As he pulled things from the cupboards she made her way to the other side of the kitchen bench. ‘Did I tell you about the tradition in my family?’
‘You sure did. How your mum made waffles only on a Saturday. Never any other day.’
‘Did your family have a tradition like that too?’
He paused briefly as he reached into the fridge, his hand shaking a little before he grabbed the juice. ‘No,’ he lied before turning back to her. ‘My sister and I went to boarding schools.’
‘What about holidays?’
‘My parents travelled a lot. There wasn’t really time to build something into a tradition.’ At least, not something that included him. Not that he cared. He’d always been so much happier when his parents weren’t there. Alone in a big house with the housekeeper and butler-cum-handyman who were kind to him. They were some of the happiest memories he had from his childhood. That and learning to drum at school.
He poured a glass of juice and pushed it in front of Mel. ‘Breakfast juice,’ he said when she picked it up and sniffed it. ‘I kept the poison out of it this morning.’
Her gaze flicked to his and he managed to keep his expression serious for all of one second before bursting into laughter. Her lips twitched and she muttered, ‘Smartarse.’
He sighed dramatically. ‘Got me pegged already.’
‘My smartarse radar is finely tuned.’
‘I know.’
She took a sip of juice, lips still curved in a smile.
He turned to the stove before his face split in half with his smile. Stupid to feel so bloody happy simply because he’d made her laugh and joke with him.
They settled into a peaceful silence with her watching him as he put together the waffle batter, poured it into the waffle press and closed the lid. He looked up at her after he’d got out the maple syrup to see her staring at the waffle press.
‘That looks like the one my mama used to have.’
‘That’s because it is. Well, not the exact one,’ he said at the surprised lift of her brows. ‘She sent us one like hers for our engagement present. She wrote in the card that if I was going to take you on, I might as well learn to tame the beast with waffles every Saturday.’
She snorted. ‘That sounds like Mama.’
‘She was a funny lady.’
‘Yeah. She is … I mean, was.’ She rubbed her knuckles against her cheek. ‘It’s so hard to wrap my head around the fact they’re gone.’
‘I’m so sorry. I wish I’d broken it to you better.’
‘I don’t think there is a “better”, is there?’
‘No. Probably not.’ Phil’s hands clenched on the edge of the bench to stop from reaching for her hands. She’d been rather funny about touching when they first met and he had to remember it was that Mel he was dealing with.
‘My parents—they didn’t come to the wedding?’
‘No. They refused to come to the “big smoke”.’
Her mouth skewed sideways. ‘I had sort of hoped maybe they’d forgiven me enough to come. I wanted to think things were better between us.’
‘They were. Kind of. After you called them about the engagement, you began to swap calls and emails.’
‘Did I go back there?’
He shook his head. ‘We meant to, but with touring and recording and you getting your business off the ground and doing your own travelling, we never found the right time.’
‘They never came to us?’
‘No.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘Figures. Mama never went anywhere further than the local town. Papa went a little further to buy and sell cattle and horses, but neither of them ever got on a plane as far as I remember.’ She stared at her juice.
He wished he could do something to cheer her up. ‘She would have loved that we named Arwen after her.’
Her gaze snapped to him again.
‘Arwen Claire,’ he said softly. ‘You didn’t want the baby’s first name to be Claire or Calvin—you thought that might be too sad—but you wanted one of their names to be the second name.’
‘Oh. It’s a lovely name.’
‘You picked it.’
‘You didn’t have a choice?’
He shrugged. ‘I did. But I liked your choice.’
‘Oh.’
She looked more confused than he’d ever seen her. It was kind of endearing. Then she frowned. ‘I hope I wasn’t going to name her Legolas or Gimli if she was a boy.’
He laughed. ‘You picked Aragorn. Aragorn Calvin Paris. Pretty solid name for a boy, don’t you think?’
She stared at him as if he’d gone mad and then suddenly shook her head, waggling her finger at him and laughing. ‘You almost had me.’
‘I did have you.’
‘For a second.’
His smile gentled. ‘Actually, we thought we might name a boy Nicholas or—’
‘Rohan. Uh.’ She jerked like she’d been punched in the gut, her eyes staring at nothing as she wobbled on the stool.
‘Mel?’ He was around the kitchen bench in a second, grabbing her before she could fall off the stool. Her eyes came back into focus slowly. Brow furrowed, her gaze centred on him. ‘What happened? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?’ They’d taken her out of the hospital too early. She wasn’t ready. Why had he pushed for it?
She waved her hand slowly before touching her temple. ‘No. I’m fine. I just had a little flashback or something.’
He pushed back the rush of questions that wanted to fly out of his mouth—he couldn’t bombard her—and settled on, ‘You did?’
She nodded gingerly. ‘I remember talking about the names. I liked Rohan. You liked Nicholas. We agreed to toss a coin if it was a boy.’
‘Yes.’ He almost couldn’t breathe. ‘It was a joke we had between us. Whenever we couldn’t come to a final decision, we tossed a coin.’
‘Really?’
He nodded, trying to withhold his excitement, but knowing he was failing really badly. ‘You remember that? That’s amazing.’
She held up her hand. ‘Don’t get too excited. It wasn’t like a proper memory. I just … heard the words. Only a few words.’ She clenched her hand into a fist.
He took her fist in both of his—he shouldn’t, but couldn’t stop himself from touching her again—and looked deeply into her eyes. ‘But it was something. Something more than you had five minutes ago.’
She nodded slowly, then lifted her other hand up to cup the outside of his. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For being so understanding. For trying to see the bright side even though I know this must be so shit for you.’
‘Not any more than it’s shit for you.’
Her lips twisted into a smile. ‘True.’
Their gazes met.
‘Burning breakfast again?’
She jerked back from him as he looked up to see Craig round the kitchen bench to save the waffles—there was a wisp of smoke coming out of the waffle press. ‘Shit.’
‘I don’t mind them burned a little. Makes them smoky,’ Mel said.
Craig’s brows rose. ‘Smoky? More like a charcoal brick. They need to go in the bin. I won’t allow anyone to eat burnt offerings in my kitchen.’
‘This isn’t your kitchen.’
‘And I’m hungry,’ Mel said, grabbing one of the burnt offerings before Phil could chuck them in the bin, taking a bite. She didn’t screw up her nose even though she must have a mouthful of ashy waffle. In fact, she made sounds like it was the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten.
‘God, I love you,’ he said.
The words fell like an anvil. She stopped chewing as she stared at him. ‘Um … I …’
He shook his head. He wanted to tell her not to freak out. That he didn’t expect her to say it back or anything. But nothing came out of his mouth.
‘Stop making eyes at each other,’ Craig said as he grabbed the burnt waffle from Mel’s hand and tossed it with the others into the bin. ‘I want to eat my breakfast, not throw it up.’
Her gaze darted to him then away, a red flush staining her cheeks. Damn it. He wanted to throttle Craig. They’d been doing so well until he’d said that. He had to do something to fix it. But Arwen chose that moment to make a noise, and he had no choice but to go over and see to her, leaving Mel and Craig to make the waffles to Craig’s strict standards.
Arwen stared up at him as he brushed the soft hair that curled over the top of her ears. He picked her up, whispering, ‘I love you, my princess, but it’s time for you to go to sleep,’ and began to rock from side to side, stroking her back.
She made a soft cooing sound and nuzzled into him. Suddenly he was able to breathe a little easier. Being with her was so uncomplicated. The only uncomplicated thing in his life.
‘Breakfast’s up,’ Craig called softly ten minutes later.
Phil nodded and put his baby-girl back in the bassinette, rolling it over to the kitchen bench.
Craig kept up most of the conversation and Phil found himself thankful for the first time that his mate never wanted for a word.
After they finished breakfast, Mel excused herself to go clean her teeth, leaving him and Craig to clean away the dishes. He took the opportunity to ask if Craig had been up last night.
‘Yeah. I couldn’t sleep. There was a melody playing in my head, so I went to the studio. Why?’
‘Mel woke with a start and thought someone was out here. She called out, but nobody answered.’
‘I didn’t hear her call out. I’m sorry if I startled her. I thought I was being quiet.’
‘I think she’s a bit hyper aware at the moment. It doesn’t matter. As long as it was you. I’ll tell her you get up often in the night.’
‘Sure. She doesn’t really think anyone could get in here, does she? I mean, the security is pretty tight.’
‘I’ll make sure I show her that too.’ He clapped Craig on the back. ‘Thanks, mate.’
Craig hung the dishtowel on the oven then nodded towards where Mel had reappeared at the top of the stairs. ‘What are you two doing today?’
‘Mel’s going to do some painting.’ He explained what Prof Alan had said.
‘Well, if you happen to do any of the scenery here, I’d love one for my birthday,’ he said to Mel. ‘I can put it with the one of the mountains that you did for me the time we went skiing in the Austrian Alps.’
‘I gave you a painting?’
‘Yep. More than one. I’ve also got ones you did of us playing in Rome and Wembley. We’ve all got a number of Melissa Linklater-Paris originals.’
‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘I just … I never gave my paintings to anyone but family before.’
‘I know,’ he said.
She gaped at him and Phil could see the realisation cross her face. They were family. Her family as much as his.
She shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t know why you’d want another painting if you’ve already got a few.’
Craig looked at her as if she was crazy. ‘Because you’re unbelievably talented and one day I’m going to be able to say I’ve got a Melissa Linklater-Paris original and reject the millions art lovers will want to pay for them to take them off my hands. I always said that if you wanted to throw the day job, you’d make a brilliant living with your painting—not that any of us want you to give up the day job. You’ve helped make us what we are today.’
She snorted and blushed. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
‘He’s not,’ Phil said. ‘I’ve told you the same for years.’
‘You’re both biased.’ She waved her hands in the air. ‘Besides, I’m not painting to paint scenery. I’m supposed to be trying to paint what I can remember of my dreams and the flashes I’ve been getting. It’s therapy. That’s all. Certainly not art-lover worthy. And certainly nothing I’ll be sharing with or giving to anyone.’ She wagged her finger at Craig. ‘So don’t count your chickens.’
He laughed. ‘Noted, ma’am.’
‘Shall we go get your stuff?’
She was about to nod when Arwen let out a wail again.
‘Ah, the princess awakes,’ Craig announced in a deep voice-over tone.
Phil raced over to the bassinet and picked the baby up. ‘She’s been unsettled by the move. It’s supposed to be her sleep time.’ He glanced at Mel. ‘Do you mind waiting just a bit while I take care of her?’
He hoped she’d want to help, but she said, ‘I … um … was hoping to get to it right away. I just need to know where my paint supplies are.’
‘How about I show you where your painting stuff is kept and help you set up while Phil takes care of Arwen?’ Craig suggested.
Phil couldn’t help a stab of disappointment but kept it to himself. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. My other choice is to go help Dae, Lexi and Karl with the fences.’ He grimaced. ‘My shoulders are still recovering after helping do the ones by the road two weeks ago.’
‘Okay. That’s great. Thanks.’
He watched them go, Mel hurrying away faster than was necessary. What was he going to do about that? How could he make her feel more comfortable around Arwen?
Arwen squawked loudly. ‘Okay, Princess, Daddy’s moving. How about we go for a walk? You like it when we move.’
Chapter 10
Melissa followed Craig down the stairs, past the mezzanine level her room was on and down into the garage where the cars were kept.
‘Phil mentioned you heard me up and about last night. Sorry if I startled you.’
‘Oh. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. I was just being stupidly jumpy.’
‘That’s understandable. Just so you know, I’m often up during the night. My muse loves to call on me then.’
She understood that. She’d often got up in the past to draw or paint during the night. ‘Do you find it helps to go for a walk outside first?’ He stopped on the top of the last flight of steps, brows raised. ‘I thought I heard you go outside last night.’
He frowned. ‘Sometimes I do go for a walk outside to clear the head, but I didn’t last night—too cloudy. I prefer being able to see where I’m going given there’s so many trip-hazards out here. No, I went through the hallway to the studio—Lexi was bloody brilliant when she put that in. She knows musicians.’
‘Oh. But I was sure I heard you leave through the front door.’ Although, it wasn’t the first time she’d imagined something. And who would have been here aside from Phil and Craig? She shrugged one shoulder. ‘I must have been mistaken.’
‘Things can sound strange out here—they echo in a way that can be truly creep-making.’
‘Yeah. That must have been it.’
They continued down the last flight of stairs.
It was dark in the garage despite the small shafts of light that filtered in through the windows set high in the garage doors.
She slowed as she reached the last few steps, unwilling to walk into the darkness. It really was a stupid fear to have, but she’d never grown out of it despite a doctor telling her mama and papa she would. Although maybe she had got over it in the last eight years. Not that it mattered if she had—the fear had a vicious hold on her. She’d screamed in the hospital the first night after truly waking and it had been dark.
Craig spun back to face her when he noticed she’d stopped halfway down the last flight of stairs. ‘It’s okay, Melissa. There’re sensor lights down here. Give me a moment to set them off.’ He jumped off the bottom step and waved his arms around. The bank of lights nearest them flickered on. He must have been told of her fear. Or maybe they were close enough that he knew of it already. Whatever, she was kind of glad she didn’t have to go through the embarrassment of telling him.
