Page 82 of Butterfly
“Mum and Fiona…they told me about Sienna. Not everything,” he hurries to add when I open my mouth to protest. I love Mum to death, and Fiona is amazing, but Sienna should be the one who decides what to say to whom. Charles shoves his hands in his pockets, another gesture way too familiar. “Not that I needed them to say anything. She had a tough life.”
“She did.” I stand stiffly in front of him.
He steps aside to let a couple of girls pass. “Thank you for the gift.”
I copy his pose and shove my hands in my pockets. “Dad knew what he was doing, didn’t he?”
He nods. “Hell, yeah. And that painting is the best piece he’d ever done.”
I chuckle. “Incredibly, it is.”
He grins too. “I’m glad you’re here.” A hint of sadness veils his words. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I’m sorry I left you alone.”
“I was a dick about it, so I guess we’re even.”
We move at the same time and hug each other. He claps my back. “I’m sorry I shouted at your girlfriend. I’m sorry about what I said.”
“I understand your frustration. I do. And I’m sorry to have hit you.”
“No, you are not.” He punches my shoulder playfully.
“I’m not.” I return the punch. “I’ll do my best to be closer. I swear it.”
“Great.” He nods. “See you at home. Take care of your girl.”
“I will.”
Sienna’s cheeks are flushed when she emerges from the changing room, wearing her coat and a woollen hat that can barely contain her thick golden hair.
“Alex. Thanks for waiting for me.” She rises on her toes and kisses me.
“Always.” I take her by the waist, wishing that we could go home to London now.
“Sienna!”
Bloody Dylan’s voice is like a blizzard in July—damn annoying and out of place. He’s running towards Sienna, a bright smile lighting his face. The shirt he’s wearing plasters over his bloody six-pack. Show off.
“Dylan, thank you for your help with the rehearsal.” She steps out of my embrace and tugs at her coat.
“You’re welcome. I just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas and a happy New Year.” He opens his arms and hugs her. Tightly. From above her shoulder, he glares at me. His smile turns into a challenging scowl, and his eyes narrow to slits. I’m surprised that glare isn’t making me bleed.
I scowl back. What the hell?
He leans closer to her neck for a brief second, breathing in her scent, while staring at me. Bugger off, bastard. She isn’t yours, creep. On cue, he tilts his head, as if to say ‘we’ll see.’
Finally, he removes his bloody paws from her, the smile returning in full force. “It was a pleasure to work with you.”
Sienna nods. “Likewise.”
“You’ve got my number.” Another glare at me. The challenge of it scratches me raw. “We’ll keep in touch, and who knows, we might see each other again very soon.”
The hell?
“Sure.” Sienna laces her fingers with mine, and I can’t fight the urge to pull her towards me.
The cold air outside doesn’t do much to cool down my boiling blood. I hold Sienna’s hand in mine, trying to focus on the fact that I’m being an unreasonable, jealous ass. Although, the unreasonable part might not be true. The bugger confronted me.