The Dare Collection August 2019. Christy McKellen

my laptop bag before me, my feet itching to shuffle towards the exit.

      Drake, Kit and the others head towards the hotel’s restaurant and Graham places his hand in the centre of my back and encourages me to follow.

      My mouth opens and closes without my saying anything. What should I say?

      Reid leans close and whispers, ‘Are you free? Care to accompany us for lunch?’

      ‘I...’ I stare, my eyes hopefully conveying my indecision. Am I being included as Sadie, or Blair, and won’t the rest of the family think my presence odd?

      ‘Of course she’s coming. She’s going to be joining the family soon,’ says Graham.

      So Sadie it is.

      It’s a beautiful day, but goose pimples form on my exposed arms as we enter the sun-filled dining room. Reid must sense my hesitation because he winks at me and smiles.

      ‘Don’t be nervous—if he remembers who you are, he’ll still be delighted you’re here. Come on—it’s lunchtime. We can’t have you working too hard.’ He grins, drawing out my answering smile.

      Graham heads to the table and pulls out a seat for Mia. I grip Reid’s hand, stalling. ‘What will Drake and Kit think about me being here?’

      He frowns. ‘They won’t care either way. You’re a family friend who’s also working for us.’ He smiles then—not the polite, open smile of acquaintance or friend, but the secret, intimate smile of a lover—and I follow him to the table, reluctantly accepting my fate.

      Reid pulls out the seat next to Mia, who smiles my way.

      ‘When is the baby due?’ I ask.

      Mia collapses back in her chair as if she finds the mere effort of thinking about the baby’s arrival in this heat exhausting. But she smiles, accepting the attentions of Kit, who kisses her and fills her water glass. ‘Two weeks. I’m totally over it. So, tell me about your plans for the hotel? I love the old-world charm of the Faulkner, but I can’t wait to see the place modernised.’

      On my other side, Reid leans in, joining the conversation. ‘I’ve already vetoed the lime-green paint.’ His hand settles on the back of my chair, the intimate gesture making me freeze—one, in anticipation of his touch, and two, in case anyone else at the table notices. Reid offers me a playful wink, but from the corner of my eye I catch Kit’s startled expression and the wide-eyed look he shares with Mia.

      Heat creeps up my neck, my stomach griping with embarrassment so my appetite completely vanishes. Has Reid discussed our sex-only relationship with his brothers? Do they disapprove? I’m younger than Kit. I’m probably younger than Mia. I know we joke, but is it really a problem for him? And does Reid share his brother’s reservations now he knows how foolishly trusting I was in my relationship? What would he do if he found out I was just as naive with my business too?

      My body floods with the shame of a thousand stares.

      I fake-bristle at Reid’s comment to keep the conversation light and away from questions on the nature of our non-relationship relationship. ‘Lime green, or chartreuse, as it’s properly known, makes an excellent statement colour and can look stunning in a bedroom when teamed with fuchsia and orange.’ I cast Reid a pointed look. ‘But you’re right, it is a more...youthful choice.’

      Mia smiles, in no way trying to hide her amusement at Reid’s expense, not that he seems in the least perturbed that we’re mocking him—in fact, he’s grinning. ‘I love chartreuse,’ she says. ‘I’ll have to invite you over when you’re free—we haven’t had time to decorate the nursery yet, not that I’m worried because babies can only see a foot in front of their face for the first few weeks. Perhaps while you’re there, you could look over the entire house—I’d love to knock down a wall or two in the living space to let in more natural light, and Kit has a serious love affair with beige.’ She offers Kit a sickly sweet smile, which he simply grins away, an indulgent look on his face.

      I give Mia a nod of encouragement, wondering how much Reid has told his brothers about my designs for the Faulkner. Do his comments on paint colour hide a veiled truth? Does he really hate my designs, and why do I care when I didn’t a few days ago? Unease and doubt build, crushing me until I feel small, an outsider in this room full of people who love and accept each other and have their lives all worked out.

      Why am I here? Why did Reid invite me? And why has sex changed everything?

      I struggle through the rest of the meal, exhausting my supply of small talk, although the Faulkners make easy companions.

      We’re just finishing a dessert when the thing I’ve most been dreading happens.

      ‘So, Reid,’ asks Graham, ‘are you taking the beautiful Sadie here to the LHA gala next weekend?’

      A collective hush falls over the table as everyone realises Graham’s mistake. My stomach twists and I’m frozen, my dessertspoon hovering in the air. My skin crawls and my heart clenches for him, because the damage is done. Graham looks around the table at the expressions of his family, his own face turning dusky and a stricken frown of bewilderment dipping his brows.

      Drake recovers first, prompting the conversations around the table to resume. ‘Reid hates the London Hoteliers Association functions, Dad, as well you know.’

      Reid shifts beside me, but I pipe up. ‘That meal was delicious, Graham. Thanks so much for inviting me. I...um, I noticed a chessboard in the foyer—would you like to play?’

      Graham nods, his face brightening. ‘Of course, I’d love to.’ Graham winks at me, and I feel Reid relax. ‘I’ll set up the board, my dear.’ He leaves the table, still fit and agile and the apparent epitome of health.

      I stand too, my heart heavy for the Faulkners.

      Reid catches my wrist. ‘Thank you.’ The sombre look on his face, mirrored in both Kit’s and Drake’s expressions, is difficult to witness. I nod, too unsettled to speak, and wander out in search of a bathroom.

      While I wash my hands my head replays the past hour, my concern for Graham’s condition and Reid’s obvious worry, which was evident in the number of times he slid his eyes his father’s way during the meal. The uncertainty over Graham’s prognosis and his bouts of confusion are taking a toll, perhaps the reason Reid seems both distracted and overprotective of the Faulkner. But at least I can help with the latter, manage the renovations as smoothly as possible and to the agreed time frame, releasing Reid from at least one burden. It’s the least I can do and, although we’ve never been friends, perhaps we can be when this is over.

      From the little I know of dementia, it’s a progressive condition, so Graham is unlikely to improve. He’s so young. Will he forget his sons as he’s forgotten his ex-daughter-in-law and me? What will happen if he worsens and can no longer live alone?

      I emerge from the bathroom minus any answers and head in the direction of the foyer to find Graham. Halfway there, I’m drawn to a halt by familiar voices coming from a quiet seating nook just outside the dining room. Nothing good ever comes of eavesdropping, and I’m about to walk on when I hear mention of my name.

      ‘Blair Cameron—what’s going on?’ says Kit.

      There’s a pause filled only by the sound of my blood whooshing through my head and the metallic taste of apprehension.

      ‘Dad saw her in the foyer and invited her to lunch.’ Reid’s voice—measured. Careful. ‘They’re quite close, by all accounts.’

      I blink, my eyes hot. We are. Were, when Graham could remember me.

      ‘I’m not talking about that. Are you seeing each other?’ asks Kit.

      Drake chuckles. ‘Sleeping with the competition—didn’t know you had the balls, big brother.’

      I cover my mouth to stifle my gasp. Is that how Reid sees me? An adversary? Someone not to be trusted? Someone out to ruin his beloved hotel with lime-green