After All - Part Forty Nine

Chapter Forty Nine

                “Matilda, you ok?” Paul asked quietly from behind. Mattie could feel the tension in her shoulders. Dylan looked furious, though he had no right. She had no idea how he’d found her, and as usual his attitude angered her, but a large part of him was drinking in the sight of him, there in the hotel...despite that she couldn’t help but remember how he’d spoken to her - so maliciously, so harshly. He had hurt her, and there was no sign that he was feeling any different now as he glowered at her, always the one to have an agenda, an opinion. But he did look amazing in a suit, all suits, and this was a brave choice of clothing considering the weather, but then Dylan could carry off anything. He didn’t even look ruffled. Though he looked furious.

She sighed, that was the enigma that was Dylan Wallace, with one look he could turn into a ball of blazing fury, yet another gesture or glance could turn her into an emotional fuzz ball, all doe-eyed and devoted, because no matter what he did, what he said, she loved him, and he was a long way from changing that. All that had happened five years ago hadn’t changed how she felt, and there was no sign that she felt different now. Not that she was about to let him get away with his recent behaviour, the way he’d treated her. But he’d come. He hadn’t come to shout, to chastise her, of that she was sure, it wouldn’t make sense. But what exactly he wanted, she wasn’t sure. If he offered her an apology there and then, what would she say? She was no push over, she wasn’t about to let him make demands of her.  She’d lived with so much guilt for SO long. No more.

Turning to Paul, she’d almost forgotten he was there, “I’ll be fine. Thanks for caring though, and thanks for tonight.”

He looked between her and the still snarling Dylan and shook his head, “I’ll leave you here, but I’m not sure that’s the best thing.”

She gave a smile, “he won’t hurt me...not physically anyway. I’ll be fine.”

Paul gave a nod, then turned, leaving her to her fate.

Taking a deep breath and stretching to her full height, she started what felt like a death walk towards him.

Dylan hated the swath of emotions that were currently battling for supremacy in his brain. He was exhausted. He knew that much, he’d left London in the evening...was that yesterday? The flight from London had taken eleven hours, then there was the time change...and he’d missed his connection, so he’d not hit this resort until early evening, to be told that Matilda’s room was empty.

He’d not checked into his room, he had to see her first, the thought of a shower, a sleep...he doubted he’d see outside his suite for a whole twenty four hours if he succumbed to that luxury now, he was THAT shattered. So he’d sat in the reception, or rather perched on a stool at the bar nearest there, thinking that he’d fall asleep if he relaxed in to a chair.

And finally after what felt like hours, he’d spotted her enter the courtyard of the hotel. Jumping to his feet, he rushed to see her, desperate to blurt out how sorry he was, how much he wanted to apologise, explain. Instead he almost exploded to see her arm in arm with some beach bum. As he got to the hotel door, she was hugging him, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. The rational part of him told him if he was more than an acquaintance, she’d have give him more than a peck on the cheek, and in his heart he knew that she wasn’t the type to dive so quickly into something with another man. After all, she’d not wanted or tried to date a man in the five years that they were apart, let alone the last two weeks. But that didn’t stop the veil of green envy wash over him so dramatically.

He was jealous, that stunned him for a moment, he was jealous that another man could see Matilda laugh, that another man had made her smile.

                “What the HELL are you doing here?”

Like a pin to a balloon, his bubble of realisation burst with a loud bang. He stepped back, literally as she hissed the words at him. “I came to see you, of course. Look there’s a lot to talk about.” He ran his hand over his eyes, exhausted.

                “So YOU want to talk now? He who avoided everything for so long. When did you pull your head out of the sand?” There was venom in her voice and he couldn’t be angry at that.

Dylan groaned, “you’ve every reason to be angry...”

She shook her head, “NO. You have no idea what is going on in my head Dylan Wallace, do NOT presume to know what I am thinking, you hear?”

He watched as her take a deep breath and march past him, determined to disappear.

Mattie sighed, a few more steps and it would have been ok, she’d have got to her room, locked herself in, regrouped, rebuilt her defences and been prepared for any other confrontation. But he reached out and grabbed her arm. And the contact, his skin on hers, it was like an electric shock, her whole consciousness zoomed in to that piece of her body, those fingers touching her, wrapping around her wrist.

                “Matilda...don’t go. Please.”

Before she looked up she blinked furiously trying to clear the tears that threatened to fall, she couldn’t cry in front of him, she wouldn’t, but he brought out so many feelings in her, and her inadequacies, her faults mixed with all that she felt about him, and the fact that he was there, that she’d wanted him, but never really believed he would come, “it’s too late Dylan, I can’t do this.”

He shook his head, “no, it’s not. Ok, I was wrong, can’t you let me explain?”

Staring at his eyes, she felt her heart start to pound, he looked tired, his eyes were red, they lacked their usual sparkle, and his face looked pale.

                “You look terrible.”

She blurted the words out without thinking.

He sighed, a slow expulsion of air, “I’ve been travelling for twenty four hours, I have felt better.”

She didn’t want to feel pity for him, but suddenly all her confidence was ebbing away, she was too emotionally fraught to battle things out now, but she knew she wanted to hear what he had to say, she owed herself that. But as fraught as she was, he looked exhausted too, they managed to screw up conversations when they were aware, at their best, talking now was a recipe for disaster. “You need sleep. You got a room?” He nodded. “Meet me tomorrow, breakfast?” She pointed to a doorway in the distance, “that’s the restaurant. We both need rest or we’ll ruin any chance of being civil. See you at nine.”

With that she walked away whilst she still could, because her legs had turned to jelly and she wasn’t sure she’d make it as far as her room.

Dylan watched her walk away along the open corridor into the distance, he wanted to run after her, but he’d seen the sheen of tears in her eyes, she needed time to compose herself, and he needed sleep. That was a given.

The villa he’d booked, or rather Brandy had for him, was the best in the hotel. Beach front with a private pool, a private veranda off the master bedroom, a luxury bar and fridge filled with drinks and food, and two huge bedrooms, each with an en suite bathroom. Whilst he was desperate for sleep, his body screaming for it, he needed a shower, he wanted Mattie with him when he settled down, he wanted them to be sorted, but that wasn’t going to be an easy thing. He needed a shower, maybe a drink, then he could sleep, that was a must.

The shower was perfect, washing away the dust of twenty four hours in the same clothes, the air conditioning of the aeroplane, the taxis, then the dust from the heat and smog of London and Bangkok. The hotel shower gel was lime and pepper, invigorating, and the shower was powerful the water refreshing. He felt a little more human as he finally emerged, then half dry; he poured himself a whisky, downing half of it in one huge gulp.

It was then he heard a tap, quiet at first so he thought he’d missed it, then a little bolder.

Pulling open the door expecting to see a member of the hotel staff there, he was ready to snap, “WHAT?” But it wasn’t a Thai receptionist or housekeeper, stood there tears flooding down her face was Matilda.

Mattie had showered, she’d tried to sleep, but she couldn’t stop her heart racing, the nausea rising. All she could think of was Dylan somewhere else in the hotel with all the answers, answers she needed desperately to the questions that were keeping her awake, stopping her function. He was too tired to talk now, she knew that, but she couldn’t settle with the thought that he was for all intents and purpose under the same roof as her. She pulled a shirt over her vest and shorts and slid on a pair of flip flops. A lap of the complex, alongside the beach and back through the reception did nothing to settle her nerves and anxiety. As she walked back towards her room, via the same beach lined path, she spotted Dylan, in the biggest villa, right at the edge of the complex, he was wearing just a towel, walking across the well lit lounge, the curtains all still open.

She found her legs walking towards him, before her brain registered, and despite the tears. As she stepped towards the front door every cell in her body screamed out in conflict, what would she say when he opened the door? What did she want him to say? Instead of answers, the sadness, the loneliness and the pain of not just the last two weeks, but the years prior to that washed over her in huge waves of tears. She could barely control them, and even at the moment the door opened she didn’t know why she was there, what she wanted, other than to stare at the man that made her cry that hard.

He stood there, still just a towel draped low around his hips. His face contorted from what seemed like anger, to surprise, and then concern as he took in the tears, “Matilda...” He name was a moan.

She stepped into the room and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his warm skin. Needing his arms around her, needing someone to take the load for her.

                “It’s not this easy, we both know that,” she sniffled finally lifting her head, “but I needed that. You are an A class bastard who keeps ruining my life, but I needed that hug.”

He sighed, wiping the tears from her cheeks, “what the hell have I done to you? Will you ever forgive me?”

With a shrug she stared up at him, “don’t think that this means I forgive you...”

                “But you want a hug?”

She nodded, “I’m fed up of being alone.”

He smiled, “I’ve being dying to hug you too.”

That made her smile, “can I stay here? You have to sleep, we need to talk...”

                “But you want to stay here?” Biting her lip nervously, she gave a little nod, and Dylan felt his heart lurch with desire at the gesture, “do you trust me not to pounce on you?”

                “If you want to sort this out you won’t.”

With a knowing nod, he took her hand, leading her into the bedroom, whilst his libido would struggle to have her lie with him all night, the immense fatigue, combined with the desire not to fuck things up this time, meant that he’d not do that, he’d accept this gesture as something they both needed, to spend the night together.

Tomorrow would bring the talking, the things they should have discussed months, if not years ago. They had to analyse every inch of their relationship from start to finish, and he wasn’t proud of most of what he’d done. But he could be her strength, he could hold her, care for her until the tears he caused stopped flowing, it was the least he could do, he owed her SO much more.