Plausible Deniability

Aila manages to make it through until Thursday. Without the Northend taking up her evenings, she finds herself roaming the manor’s grounds. It’s easier than she expected to pretend there isn’t a guard everywhere she looks. She understands their wariness, their quick response to any potential threats.

Her favourite place is no longer Niall’s bed. It’s here in the back garden, watching flowers sway in the late afternoon breeze and fat bumblebees buzzing over the petals. Listening to the fountain splash into a pond as she sits on the bench, watching the fish swim their lives away. She can’t name their breed, but she’s taken to naming them.

Bruce loves Marlin, but Marlin tries his damnedest to speed away whenever the orange guy comes too close.

“Miss Aila?”

She looks up from the book she’s been reading, blinking in the dim light. The sun began setting at some point, and she hadn’t even noticed. Bees no longer float in the air, their wings impossibly keeping them in flight. Birds have fallen silent in the trees surrounding the north and south perimeters. She closes the novel and smiles at Robert. His lips quirk as he glances at the cover.

“That’s one of Mister Niall’s favourites to read. He’ll be pleased to know you’re enjoying it.”

“It’s... decent. Probably never going to be in my top ten.” She inhales the scent of a midsummer evening, the serenity of her haven fading into reality. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Miss. Mister Niall just sent me with a message. He will be ready to go to—what was it?—‘Junk Night’ momentarily.”

“Thank you, Robert. If he leaves me after dealing with tonight, think I could kick him out and keep the house?”

“Perhaps if you were wed, Miss Aila. For what it’s worth, my dear, I would be honoured to remain on staff, should this come to fruition.”

She giggles and rises to her feet. Stopping in front of Robert, she pats his cheek. He reminds her of YaYa, all steadiness and gentle support. With his soft eyes and quick—if fleeting—smiles, Aila can’t ever distrust him. He and Mera have been the most helpful in their attempts to make Aila feel at ease here.

“You are an amazing man, Robert. I hope you know that.”

“I strive to be what is needed.”

“And you do it wonderfully.” Aila blows out a breath, tucking the book under one arm, then curves her fingers around his elbow. “Would a fine gentleman such as yourself escort me inside?”

Aila has never heard Robert laugh before, but he is now. She knows she sounded too much like a Victorian-era film, prim and proper and high-class. An upstanding lady asking company of her caller. He doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls her hand through the crook of his arm, places his fingers over hers, and turns toward the door.

“It would be my pleasure, Miss.”

At the bottom of the staircase, Robert releases her hand and bows. She grins, stretching to kiss his cheek, then rushes upstairs to get dressed and pack an overnight bag. Somehow, half of her wardrobe has ended up here over time, but she isn’t complaining. It certainly makes it less of a hassle to find clothes. And for her to prevent Niall wasting any more money on her.

“Did you really have Robert escort you inside like a gentleman caller of the old days?”

Aila glances over her shoulder, grinning at a towel-clad Niall. “I did.”

“You’re something else,” he murmurs, kissing her hair as he passes her.

“How did you even know?”

“Word travels, even in the house.”

“He just looked really serious. Wanted to lighten the mood a bit.” She pauses. “Should I not have?”

“Darling, you can do pretty much whatever you want.”

“Except leave without telling you where I’m going, not check in so you know I’m safe, keep secrets from you, question your methods, and betray you,” she recites, counting off each rule with her fingers.

He drops the towel to the floor and grins, reaching for the underwear on the bed. “Exactly.”

“I hate rules.”

All he does is laugh in response as he dresses quickly. Angel had given them a firm arrival time, and neither want to be late. Aila, because she knows she won’t ever live it down, and Niall because he wants to make a good impression. Her friends’ approval decides whether she has to make a choice between her roommates and him.

She isn’t sure which she would choose. Aila desperately hopes it never comes to that.

Vincent drives the couple to the house, drops them off out front, then leaves. Niall stares at the yellow-painted home, lips tugged downwards at the corner. Aila laces her fingers with his and rests her head on his shoulder.

“They’re gonna love you, I promise. Just be nice. And don’t try to charm them. Willow has a bullshit meter that can detect false personalities from a world away.”

Angel’s boyfriend, Reggie, has joined the group for the night. He waves from his spot on the couch but doesn’t get up. The popcorn bowl in his lap says someone has delegated him to the task of being a snack-bearer. Aila tells Niall he can sit anywhere, she has to help gather up drinks while Cheyenne lays out the food.

Niall snorts in amusement at the dozens of boxes on the coffee-table. Aila pokes him in the side then leaves him in the doorway. She’s missed this, the giggling and sarcasm as Angel shoves bottles of wine into their arms, as Paisley questions whether they’re alcoholics at this point. As Willow sits at the table and writes out a list of films for the evening.

Aila makes a note to tell Niall she refuses to give this up.

To her immense relief, her friends are—as Cheyenne promised—on their best behaviour. Paisley asks Niall what he does for a living, and he doesn’t hesitate to say he oversees a dozen profitable business ventures.

“Ugh, I can’t imagine sitting through that many board meetings,” groans Willow before biting into a chicken wing.

Aila ducks her head to hide her smile. ‘Board meetings’ isn’t exactly the term she’d use to describe what he does. She can’t ever admit what he does. If she ever told her friends, they would force her out of the city and into hiding. It wouldn’t matter, though: Niall will always find her.

The man in question raises a brow as the others pass trays and takeaway boxes of food around without once looking at each other. The women don’t need to—they’ve done this often enough, sat in the same places, that it’s muscle memory alone. He stumbles slightly in the rotation, but no one judges him. This is his first Junk Night. Of course he wouldn’t know the choreography.

Angel pauses the movie to declare she will marry the lead actor, even if she has to kill his wife for the chance. The statement causes Paisley to snort, and the start of a familiar argument begins. The two are normally the ones to have debates like this during the film marathons. Aila finds it amusing but not enough to make her laugh anymore. Not like Niall does.

“So, Niall,” Cheyenne says, interrupting the giggling and throwing of fortune cookies. “I have to admit we had our reservations about you. You weren’t exactly nice to Aila in the beginning. You nearly broke her heart. We don’t take kindly to that.”

Niall nods and sets his chopsticks down. His face settles into a frown, gaze steady as he meets Cheyenne’s eye. “I know. I... I made a lot of mistakes when it came to her.”

“Yes, yes, you did.”

“It won’t happen again.”

Willow grins while leaning against Angel’s legs. “But we approve of you. On a probationary period, that is. Go another month without hurting our sister, and we’ll consider permanent approval. After all, you’ve accepted the chaos that is Junk Night with grace.”

“However,” Angel interjects, “it’s a point against you for not having come around sooner. It’s been, what, seven months since you and Aila met, and we’re just now meeting you?”

Aila groans, dropping her head into her hands. This is, unfortunately, her friends holding back and being on their best behaviour. She knows they would try their hardest to see if he’d run, had she allowed it. They did it to Reggie in the beginning. They nearly succeeded.

“Can you lot lay off? It was my fault, not Niall’s. I’m the one who never invited him over. In my defence, you’re weird, and who would want to subject their boyfriend to your idiocy?”

Niall chuckles and passes the curry to Reggie. “I’m glad she’s invited me.”

Aila hasn’t seen this much affection in his eyes before. She swallows her mouthful of pasta, difficult though it is with the lump in her throat, and wipes a napkin over her lips. Someone lets out an elongated ‘aw’ when she leans over to kiss his cheek.

“Continue with the film, my dear!”

Cheyenne obeys Angel’s command, but Aila can’t focus on the television. Her thoughts centre around how her friends have accepted him, approved of him. She sets aside her food to settle into his side. Willow was right. Aila fully expected Niall to be overwhelmed with tonight, to realise he can’t love Aila like he does when faced with the havoc of the ritual.

But he’s still here holding her against him, fingers running lightly across her arm. He still presses his lips to her hair.

“Do they ever shut up to actually watch these things?” he whispers as an explosion screams from the speakers. The chatter is drowned out by the noise but continues nonetheless.

“If they did, the world would implode.”

He shakes his head, a smile on his lips, and she rests her hand on his knee. I should have done this long ago, she thinks when he joins in on the conversations.

Aila offers herself and Niall to clean up the mess, and Angel grabs her cheeks and kisses her full on the lips. With a ‘You’re a doll’, she skips off to her bedroom with Reggie close behind. Willow and Cheyenne are the next to leave the living room. Paisley stops in the hallway, turning to face the last two.

“I’m going to shower then sleep on the couch. You two lovebirds can have some privacy.”

“You’re not very subtle, y’know.”

“Who said I was trying to be? Just keep it down, or Angel will make it a competition of who can be louder.”

“She’d win,” Aila laughs as she gathers up the leftovers.

It doesn’t take long to tidy up the living room or stuff the tins into the refrigerator. Soon enough, Aila is turning off the lights and leading Niall to her room. Paisley calls out a goodnight, and Aila closes the door behind them. Niall pulls her in for an embrace, arms tight around her shoulders.

“Tonight was great.”

“You handled it well.”

“What’s better is I still love you.”

“Small mercies and all that.”

The bed is hardly large enough for the both of them, but Aila doesn’t mind. It only means she can cling to him without it being weird. It means she can fall asleep in his arms, breathing in the scent she’s grown to associate with safety—home. It means she can listen to his heartbeat, steady and strong, and know even her imagination could never be this realistic. He isn’t just a dream.

Despite his flaws, of which there are many, Niall is the realest man she will ever know. Love.

Aila spends Saturday morning packing up what few belongings remain in the room she shares with Paisley. Her clothes, shoes, and books fit into four boxes. Four measly boxes. All she’d had when she moved to Primden was a week’s worth of outfits and the Bible YaYa gave her. Somehow, the meagre amount of stuff Aila packs now feels more pathetic.

You’ll have loads more soon. Aila scowls at the voice. ‘Soon’ isn’t now. She should have more to show for the life she’s built. She should be struggling to condense her belongings instead of this. This utter lack of evidence that she even exists.

One last dinner with her friends in the living room, then Mully is loading her boxes in the car. Aila watches her friends wave from the front porch, watches as they disappear from sight. She can always come back—she knows this—but it won’t ever be the same. She’s moved out, and her home is now the manor. Not the three-bedroom house she knows by heart.

She sighs and rests her head against the window. She made her choice. All she can do is live with it.