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en pressant

[Fr.] : Pressing forward.

TIME WAS ALWAYS so relentless; pushing forward and never holding back. I found myself counting down the days where it would all be over.

Adelaide had already planned it out for me and I had annotated it on my schedule – three more meetings to go before I said my goodbyes. She didn't seem happy that I had dragged it out for so long but, much like the dance I had with Kaden when I was sixteen, I wished for this to go on for as long as it could, until the last strain of the song had been played and the echoes faded away.

I met Edwin in the hall before heading up to Kaden's room to hand him a present wrapped in pretty red packaging.

"It's for your grandchild," I told him, when he gave me a questioning look. "I wasn't sure if your grandchild was a girl or a boy so I just settled for a teddy bear. It's not much, but I hope your grandchild likes it."

I could tell by the surprise on his face that he didn't receive much presents in his line of work. He took the present from me, a look of gratitude flooding his face. "Thank you," he smiled and was about to say more, but paused when one of the housekeepers called to him.

"It's alright," I waved him away and pulled the strap of my bag further up my shoulder. "I'll just head up on my own, you don't have to send me in – "

"He's actually in the gym," Edwin corrected me, pointing in the direction of the room on the right, where the door to the room was left ajar.

"There's a gym?" I blurted before sighing. Was there even a need to ask? This was the Brettons' beach-house we were talking about. "Of course there's a gym."

He smiled in amusement and nodded to me. "Have a good day, Ms White."

I watched Edwin leave, frowning a little at the term he'd used for me. So he thought I was Evangeline, which wasn't much of a surprise since I didn't think he knew about the ruse.

It was a little disheartening to know that, however. I would've liked for us to get at least better acquainted, for him to at least know that the girl who reminded him of his daughter was called Isla and not Evangeline.

The door to the gym was already opened, but I still knocked and waited outside. "Come in," came Kaden's voice after a moment or two, sounding a little breathless. "Shut the door behind you."

I shut it obediently, knowing that we had to be careful because no one was supposed to know that the two of us had a ruse of our own.

"Hey – " I began brightly, before my smile vanished as I saw Kaden. He was lying on the bench, his arms stretched upwards as he lifted the barbell above him. My eyes widened in horror.

"Put that down!" I shrieked, rushing to him and trying to tug the weight from his firm grasp. "You're blind and you could have an accident if you don't put it properly back on the rack! This thing could fall on you!"

His jaw clenched when his elbows buckled underneath the weight and I knew he would be glaring daggers at me if he had his sight. "For fuck's sake," he hissed, his grip on the barbell unrelenting. "Are you trying to kill me?"

I let out a gasp of indignation. "No, that's what you're doing to yourself!"

"I beg to differ," he made a frustrated noise when I tried to snatch the barbell from him again. "Shit, would you stop that? I'm trying to put it back – "

"I'm helping – "

"You're making things worse. Let go of the bloody – " His lips flattened into a tight line when I didn't let go and he sighed. "Fine," he growled, releasing his grip on the right side, letting me take half the weight.

And that was when I immediately realised my mistake. The barbell dipped heavily to my side and I swore under my breath when I almost dropped it. The weight of it was crushing and I honestly didn't see how he could hold it up for so long.

"Kaden!"

He simply let out a laugh at my desperate plea, his left hand holding up the other half of the weight effortlessly.

"Kaden, please take it because I don't think – "

His right hand quickly reached up to grip the metal bar and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

He carefully placed the barbell back on the rack, fingers dragging it down slightly to test if the rack would hold before letting go completely. He then sat up, chest heaving as he caught his breath before he raised his eyebrows pointedly. "Just helping, huh?"

I couldn't help but flush with embarrassment. "Shut up."

His lips quirked up in a brief smile and I felt a familiar flutter in my chest at the sight of that. He slowly stood up and paused, his hands feeling around the gym equipment hesitantly.

I watched him for a bit until realisation finally dawned on me. "What're you looking for?"

"My towel."

I scanned the room until my eyes finally landed on the white cloth draped over the chair in the corner. Carefully avoiding the gym equipment, I picked my way across the room and grabbed the towel before heading back to him, pushing the towel into his hands.

"Are you alright?" I asked after awhile, frowning when I noticed a grimace on his face. "You don't look too good."

"Yes, I'm fine," he rasped out, but his voice seemed strained with pain. "Could you lead me to the bathroom? And take the bag of clothes – I think I left it somewhere near the door."

I did just as he asked, picking up the bag of clothes along the way and setting it down on the ledge in the bathroom. "You sure have a lot of bathrooms," I mused, remembering how I'd seen another one adjacent to his room. "Even if the whole household had a bad case of diarrhoea, I think there will still be plenty of bathrooms to go round, and maybe even some to spare." His lips curved in another fleeting smile before his normal, calm expression returned. I smiled in return before casting him another worried glance. "Will you be fine?"

"I'm alright, don't worry about me," he returned evenly and I stepped out of the bathroom. I was just about to pull the door shut after me when Kaden called from inside, "make yourself comfortable. If you're hungry, just go to the kitchen. The chef will make you anything you want. "

The thought of that was amusing, if not slightly overwhelming because even Parker, wealthy as he was, didn't have a personal chef who catered to his every food craving.

"Got it. Please be careful," I called back and shut the door behind me.

Picking up my bag from the doorway, I hitched it up once more onto my shoulder and headed out of the gym. The hall was empty and I decided to head further into the house, belatedly realising how I hadn't fully explored the whole place yet. Mostly, I just spent my time with Kaden in his room, and once with Adelaide in her sitting room.

I soon found the kitchen, which was adjacent to the massive dining room and seemed absolutely pristine with white walls and spotless floor. It was all rather daunting and I simply stood gaping until someone entered the room behind me.

"Hello." Spinning around quickly, I came face to face with a lady in pressed uniform who gave me a polite nod. "Can I get you anything?"

I smiled brightly at her. "Actually, I was just hoping to make a sandwich, if that's alright with you. Two sandwiches," I added quickly, suddenly remembering that I wasn't the only one going to be hungry. "The other's for Kaden."

"Of course." She immediately headed to the fridge, pulling out several items in quick succession – lettuce, a chunk of ham and tomatoes, along with several other ingredients. "I'll have someone bring it over when it's ready."

My eyes widened and I shook my head, striding towards her. "No, please don't trouble yourself, I can make it. I insist," I told her firmly, when she shook her head, "at least let me help you. I'm not here to be waited upon."

Mostly because I'm not Evangeline or anyone important.

After a moment's hesitation, she consented and we happily spent the next five minutes making cold-cut sandwiches with music from the radio playing in the background. During that time, I learnt that her name was Michelle. She had graduated from a fine culinary school in France a year earlier than the average student her age and had been working for the Brettons for two years now.

I asked her to sing along with me when a familiar song played on the radio and she obliged, albeit tentatively at first, but we were soon belting out lyrics smoothly, making sure to bump hips whenever we passed each other. It was a fun experience altogether, until a crisp, familiar voice made us freeze in our spots.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Kaden was standing by the doorway; the expression on his face so grim I almost wished the ground would swallow me up. He had now changed into a plain white shirt and black sweatpants. His hair was still dripping wet as if he'd just come out of the shower. A towel hung round his neck, a fresh piece of gauze around his head to cover his eyes. Edwin was right beside him and I noticed an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Singing?" I offered, throwing a reassuring glance over my shoulder to Michelle, who looked positively pale with fright.

Kaden let out an audible sigh, lifting a hand to massage his forehead as though the mere idea of that gave him a splitting headache. "Could you leave us? Tell the others to clear out too, Evangeline and I have some things to talk about."

I watched dismally as Michelle and Edwin both left the room. Michelle paused to wave a quick goodbye over her shoulder before leaving with the tray of sandwiches I'd directed her to take earlier. Then the place was quiet. Kaden was still an unrelenting, foreboding presence in the kitchen and I bit my lip.

"Are you angry?"

His expression softened marginally and he quickly shook his head. "No, just amused. I could hear your singing from the hall earlier."

I flushed with embarrassment. We must've been pretty loud, either that or our voices reverberated through the empty hall. "You didn't seem very amused earlier," I mused, going over and pulling him towards the counter.

"I've got a reputation to uphold."

"As what – Mr Hyde?" I joked, gratified when he let out a low chuckle. He seemed to be a lot more at ease with me now, although I couldn't be sure if that was a good thing since I had to leave him soon.

"It's something my parents drilled in me since I was child. We don't generally interact with the people who work for us; or help them, for that matter," he added, as an afterthought. "And speaking of helping, I told you that the chef would make whatever food you wanted. You didn't have to come in here."

"Of course I did. I had to make you your sandwiches, didn't I?" Placing a napkin and a sandwich into his hands, I waited expectantly as he took a tentative bite. "How is it? Michelle helped, of course, so it should be of a decent standard."

"It's good," he commented, to which I smiled in satisfaction. After I had untied the apron Michelle had lent me, I went over to the corner of the kitchen where the rack was and hung the apron on an empty hook.

"Where's your food?" Kaden suddenly asked when I returned, his hand reaching out to the plate on the counter top. I realised belatedly that he was trying to find another napkin, but he soon found my empty plate, where all the leftover scraps were. His eyebrows knitted together. "Is that – "

Laughing breezily, I pulled the plate out of his reach and handed him another napkin instead. "I've finished my share. I had a really huge appetite earlier so I ate when Michelle and I were making the sandwiches."

"Right," his lips flattened into a tight line and there was a rigidity to his posture that made me realise he wasn't going to give up until he found a reasonable explanation.

"Fine," I gave in, hopping up on the counter and tugging him so that he was sitting beside me. "It was just a miscalculation. Michelle and I were making sandwiches earlier and I wanted to make it for the rest of the staff too – "

"Are you – "

" – you've got enough to go round, haven't you? Michelle told me that the chefs generally made food for everyone in the house whenever you asked for something, and she told me that you were fine with that." He let out a noise of begrudging admittance in response and I smiled. "So we were going to make it for everyone, but I think there was a slight miscalculation on my part and we ended up with one sandwich short."

"Please tell me you're not eating the scraps."

I supposed I must've paused for a second too long because the next thing I knew, he was pushing himself off the counter. "The chef should know better than to leave nothing for you. I'll ask Edwin to have a word with her later; rest assured she'll be out of the house by – "

My eyes widened with horror. "You can't fire her! I told her – no, I demanded that she leave me with the scraps," I explained desperately, reaching down to grip his arm. "It just seemed so wasteful and I didn't want to throw them away. Honestly, it's fine."

After a moment or two, he relaxed under my touch and held out his half-eaten sandwich to me. "Take this."

I blinked. "What?"

"You're my guest, I'm not going to let you eat the scraps alone. Take mine."

An unusual warmth flooded through me and I felt my heart stutter a little. Over the years, the more rational half of me often wondered if I thought of Kaden Bretton too highly that no one ever seemed to measure up. But even if that Prince Charming illusion I had of him had long crumbled since the second time we met, there were some things I hadn't been wrong about. This was one of them – Kaden was kind and that hadn't changed through the years.

"We can share," I told him, taking his hand and lifting it so that I could take a quick bite of his sandwich. "Thank you."

He simply cracked a tiny smile before glancing away. It was like a breath of fresh air nonetheless, warm and assuring like spring, but fading away equally as quickly.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

If Kaden was annoyed with me finishing the leftover scraps from the sandwiches, then he was downright appalled when I told him that I was going to clean up the kitchen.

"You just sit tight and don't move," I told him, trying not to laugh at the utter look of disbelief on his face when he heard me gather the plates from the counter and stack them one on top of the other.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"I have never been more serious in my life," I teased lightly, but he'd blocked the path to the sink, one arm braced on the counter and the other hand flat against the wall. "It'll take only five minutes."

He let out a sound of exasperation when I tried to shift past him. "It's not a bloody matter of time! You're my guest and – fuck," he swore as my arm accidentally collided against his stomach. He immediately doubled up in pain and I gasped in horror.

"What did I do?" Setting the plates back down table, I quickly went to him, prying his hands away from his stomach. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he returned, through gritted teeth. There was a deep frown etched on his forehead and he leaned against the counter. I felt my heart tug at the sight of him in pain. "It's an old injury – don't worry about it, it'll go away soon."

Something in his voice told me that he was lying and I pursed my lips. "Show it to me."

"What?"

"Your injury. Show it to me."

He hesitated for a brief moment before sighing. Carefully, he reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it up slowly. Dragging my eyes away from his the ridges of muscles on his abdomen, I focused instead on the dark, purple bruises he was sporting just beneath his ribcage. It was a stark contrast in comparison to the rest of his smooth, tanned skin, and it was definitely not an old injury. It was probably the reason for his discomfort earlier as well.

"Was it from the car accident?" His lack of a reply confirmed my suspicions. Grabbing a towel off the rack, I headed to the freezer and scooped up about a dozen ice-cubes, packing them neatly into the towel and tying it up firmly. "You're not supposed to go to the gym when you're not fully recovered."

"I was bored," he sounded almost plaintive and I had to repress the urge to smile.

Instead, I went back to him and nudged his hand again, prompting him to lift his shirt. "Where does it hurt most?" I gently touched the bruises, letting my fingers skim across his skin hesitantly. I could feel the body heat emanating from him, a luscious aphrodisiac to my cold fingertips. He inhaled sharply at the contact, muscles contracting tightly beneath my fingertips and I quickly pulled away. "Sorry, are my fingers too cold?"

"No, that's not it," he muttered, his voice low and thick.

"Just bear with it." I pressed my fingers lightly against the bruises again. "Here?"

"Little higher," my fingers shifted and he nodded. "The pain's concentrated there mostly."

He hissed when I held the bag of ice against the spot and I gripped his shoulder tightly when he tried to recoil away. "We'll keep this here for awhile more. Keep this iced for a couple more days and the bruises will fade. If it doesn't, you have to see the doctor."

"You worry too much," he shook his head in amusement. "I'll be fine."

"Sure you will. You almost strained yourself in the gym earlier and your injury would've gotten worse if I didn't ice it. Who's going to ice your bruises when I'm not around?" I teased lightly but the smile on my face faded when he froze and pulled away from me.

"You're leaving?" There was an unidentifiable emotion to his voice that I couldn't quite place my finger on. "Why're you leaving?"

Because this is the endgame.

The words were so distinctly clear in my mind that I desperately wanted to say them out loud. Instead, I set the bag of ice down on the counter and stepped closer to him, hesitantly reaching out to curl my fingers around his arm.

"I'm not," my voice was soft, but his posture was unrelenting, his features rigid. It was so difficult to know what he was thinking when he couldn't see. The eyes were the windows to the soul and how could I even begin to fathom what he was thinking when the windows were shut tight?

"I just meant later on this evening," I tried again gently, reaching up and placing my hands on his shoulders, "when I have to leave. Or on days when I'm busy with classes and can't come over. You'll have to remember to ice the bruises yourself then. You understand that, don't you?"

He exhaled in relief and he smiled softly. "Of course I do," he murmured, reaching down to wind his arms around my waist before pulling me towards him.

His action took me completely by surprise and I froze in place for several seconds, wondering if I had perhaps conjured it all up in my imagination. It almost seemed too good to be true – but no, it was far too real. I could feel his deep, calm breaths that lulled a steady rhythm; fingers gripping my waist firmly as though he was afraid I'd pull away.

But the thought never occurred to me as I found myself automatically reacting to him. Even at twenty, I still lost my rationality as quickly as I did when I was sixteen. It was so easy to fall into.

Shifting slightly, he pressed his warm lips briefly to my forehead and I held my breath, trying to memorise how he felt against my skin. I could feel his staccato heartbeat beneath my fingertips.

"Don't leave," he whispered, so lowly I almost didn't catch it. "Not when I've just gotten used to you."

Taking a shuddering breath, I squeezed my eyes shut and rest my cheek lightly against his chest. My fingers instinctively curled themselves around the fabric of his shirt, desperate for this moment to last for as long as it possibly could.

But, like all other beautiful moments, this too had to end eventually.