All I Am: Drew's Story

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “It suits me. A means of escape from real life. And there are no gray areas, right? No risk of being shat all over from a great height.” She turns to face me, and I back off a little.

  I’m getting a headache. “Right.”

  “And you go there, too, so I assume you don’t want any gray in your life either.”

  When did this become about me? I quickly realize it isn’t about me. It’s still about Raya—Raya and her need for reassurance that I’m not going to turn this into anything more than fucking. Is it too late? I clear my throat. “Yeah.”

  She nods assertively. I hate how resolute she seems.

  “What about your parents?” I ask.

  “My mother died giving birth to me. My father killed himself shortly after.”

  “Fucking hell.” I can’t keep my disbelief back. My heart breaks for her. Who held her before me? Who comforted her and wiped her tears? No one. Because there isn’t anyone in her life now, and that thought is agony for me. Just to know how alone she is. She wanted to forget. Forget that she has no one. Forget all of her losses, just for a while, because there is nothing she can do to forget them completely. And her ex? What kind of arsehole is he? I fall into a daze, analyzing every piece of information she’s offloaded. Her trust levels are understandably rock-bottom. She is rock-bottom.

  “My grandpa devoted his life to raising me,” she breathes, her voice quavering. “He gave me everything I could dream of. I never anticipated being without him, and I honestly don’t know how to be. One day he was bright as a button as he always was, laughing and joking, and the next he was gone. A massive stroke. Just like that.”

  I wince. “Why are you selling the house, Raya?”

  “He explicitly requested I sell it in his will and use the money to follow my dreams.” She smiles down at the picture, though her expression is weighed down, a huge effort. “I couldn’t live here alone, not with Grandpa everywhere I look.”

  “So where are your dreams, Raya?”

  “I’m moving to Australia.”

  Her declaration is like a dagger plunged into my side “Australia.” I can barely get the word out. The other side of the world? “Why?”

  “Grandpa loved it there.” Her soft words confirm my fears. “He lived there until my parents died. Moved back to bring me up. We went there every year for the summer when I was a child. Now I’m taking his ashes back to where he always wanted to be. I need to get away from here. I need a fresh start.”

  I exhale, breaking away from her, fearful that she’s sensing my unsteadiness. All of this has shocked me, but the news that she’s leaving England has rocked me to my core. And I don’t like it. At all. None of it—the news or my reactions to the news.

  Jesus, Hux was an escape for her all right, but only until she could actually escape. Like leave the fucking country.

  “When are you leaving?” There. I really didn’t want to go there.

  “As soon as I sell this place.”

  I jolt, feeling like I’ve just been struck by lightning. “Right,” I murmur. So she wasn’t mad because I’d acted like a caveman but because if that buyer walks, I’ve stalled her plans to leave.

  “I’m going traveling first.” She smiles, seeming reminiscent. “Grandpa took me to so many places, and I’m going to revisit them all with his ashes, like he’s along for the ride. Then I’ll head for Australia and scatter his remains.” Raya sets the picture on the sideboard and releases her hair from her ponytail, retying it as she walks across to the fridge, seemingly unaware that I’m over here in turmoil. She collects a bottle of wine, then a glass from the cabinet. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “’Course not.” I could do with a drink myself.

  “Want some?”

  “No.” That would be stupid. Words, so many words, words that are a total jumble in my head, are swirling around. I shouldn’t add alcohol to the mix. Not here. “I really should be going.” I start to back out of the kitchen. “I’ll, umm…be in touch about any more viewings.”

  “Can you not scare them away again, please?”

  “No, I wouldn’t want to delay your plans to leave the country.” I frown to myself.

  “Well,” she says quietly, taking a sip of her wine. “There’s nothing here for me anymore.”

  What if there is? I turn, disturbed by my private question, and leave Raya, the walls closing in around me.

  As soon as I’m outside, I breathe in some sense, try to straighten out my mind as I walk on shaky legs to my car. Fuck me, I feel like I’ve been physically winded.

  Chapter 9

  Australia?” Sam parrots after I’ve spent half an hour giving them all the details. He nods, like he’s agreeable, and slurps his beer. “It’s an amazing place to live.”

  Jesse knocks Sam’s knee, which, in turn, dislodges the neck of the bottle from his lips, making beer dribble down his chin. “What?” he questions.

  Jesse’s eyes roll dramatically, his big chest expanding under his Ralph Lauren shirt on an inhale. “You practically trampled a guy.” He toasts me with his glass. “That’s a fucking huge red flag, mate.”

  I stare at my bottle moodily. “He was a cock.” Sam and Jesse both laugh. “I’m glad you two are finding this amusing.” I’m in fucking bits here.

  Sam’s palm lands on my good shoulder. “It happens to the best of us, my man. I have fucking battle wounds from the cat-and-mouse games Kate had me playing, and worst of all I didn’t even realize I was fucking playing. Women do that. Make you lose your sense and perspective.”

  I cannot believe I’m taking advice on women from these two chumps. They are the worst example of how to get the woman you want. But one thing is for sure: I already have battle wounds. Some of them visible. Some of them not so much. I rub my forehead, trying to stem the building headache.

  I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life. My next move is crucial. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew where exactly I wanted to be. I’m forty this year, and I was content with all I am, what I have, where I was heading, until an intriguing young woman turned up at Hux and ground that all to shit. The only woman in my life to make me stop and think for a moment. Think about everything. Analyze everything. Damn her.

  I could ask her not to go, simple as that. Except it isn’t that simple. What would that mean? Commitment on my part? I laugh at the notion. I can’t give her that. The only female I’ve ever been committed to is seven years old and wears pigtails. Asking Raya to stay would mean telling her about Georgia. And introducing Georgia to a woman is out of the question unless that woman is guaranteed to be in my life forever, and that’s never guaranteed. Besides, that’s assuming Raya would want to meet her. She might run for the hills at the news that I have a daughter. Raya is twenty-four. I’m touching forty.

  I laugh out loud, prompting peculiar looks from Jesse and Sam. What am I thinking? Why am I even wasting time playing tug of war in my head? Raya’s leaving the country, and she seems quite content with that. Anyway, my personal life has no room for any female except Georgia. Back to reality.

  “Hey, boys.” Kate breezes into the bar, her vibrant red hair in a low ponytail over one shoulder. She has a customary smudge of frosting on her cheek that Sam makes quick work of licking away when she sits on his lap.

  “I need your help delivering a cake,” she tells him, taking the beer from his hand and setting it on the bar.

  “What do I get in return?” He grins, and Kate dips, whispering something in his ear. Then she stumbles from his lap, laughing when he shoots up and declares his departure. “Would love to stop and continue with the therapy session, but I’ve had a better offer.” Seizing Kate’s hand, he all but hauls her out of the bar.

  “Therapy session?” I say to his back, turning my moody glare onto Jesse when he chuckles. “What’s so fucking funny?”

  “Nothing, Drew. Absolutely nothing.” He picks up a text on his phone, and the glint in his green eyes, the glint that’s always there since he met his wife, r
eflects off the screen.

  “Ava?”

  “Ava,” he sighs, tapping out a quick reply. “Her parents are taking the kids out this weekend.” His eyebrows waggle cheekily, no doubt making plans for the alone time he’s going to get with the love of his life. For the first time I can remember, I’m envious of my friends’ contentment. Both Jesse and Sam are still head over heels, eight years later. I honestly never thought they would find women who could handle them. And now it’s just me. It never bothered me before now.

  “She’s too young for me anyhow.” I say to myself. “And Georgia is my priority. There’s no room in my life for much else.”

  Jesse smiles to himself knowingly. “You could leave Hux behind, because I’m damn sure that would leave a space to be filled.”

  “I like it, though. It’s easy. No commitment. No expectations. No drama.”

  “Yeah, because your life isn’t a soap opera right now, you twat.”

  I scoff. That will soon be resolved. Raya will be leaving when the house is sold and my life will be back to normal. All of this weird shit going on in my head. All these alien feelings. Gone.

  “Anyway, you sorry motherfucker.” Jesse slides off his stool and slaps my back. “I have to get home to my beautiful wife.”

  He strides out, and my phone rings. I sigh, answering Andrea. She sounds excited. “The lady, Annie Ryan, the woman who viewed the rundown Georgian in West London. Remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She loved it,” she declares happily. “Offer on the table and accepted.”

  “That’s great.”

  “And we have an offer on Raya Rivers’s place.”

  My grasp tightens around the tumbler on the bar. “That’s good.”

  “Full asking, too.”

  “Just like that?” The knife that’s been wedged in my side since I left Raya’s earlier twists. Harshly.

  “Have you put the offer to Miss Rivers?”

  “Straight away.”

  “And she accepted?”

  “Well, of course.” Andrea laughs, quite rightly since it’s a daft question. And the knife doesn’t just twist; the motherfucker plunges deeper. “The solicitor is already on it. Surveys arranged, contracts being drawn up.”

  How prompt. Anyone would think she’s desperate to leave. “Great. I’m on my way back.” I hang up, finish my beer, and drag myself out of the bar before I drown myself in alcohol. The few streets’ walk feels long, my legs heavy, my hands deep in my pockets.

  By the time I make it there, Andrea is getting ready to leave, and the rest of the office empty.

  “Are you okay?” she asks as she pulls on her coat.

  “Fine.” I smile curtly, my way of telling her she’s my employee, not my therapist, and usher her out. “See you tomorrow.” I put the door between us, then close my eyes and relish the silence. I drop to a seat and sink my head into my hands. Don’t think. Don’t think. Do not think about her, Drew.

  “Hello?”

  I look up and find a young woman by the door, laden with files and a laptop case, a slouchy leather bag slung over her body.

  “Can I help you?”

  Her green eyes take in my slumped form as she blows her dark hair from her face. “I’m here to drop off some paperwork for Andrea. My name’s Annie Ryan.”

  “You bought the Georgian apartment, right?”

  Her eyes sparkle excitedly. “That’s right.” She holds up some papers. “Andrea wanted me to sign these.”

  “I can take them.” I drag myself up with too much effort and accept the envelope.

  “Can I get a copy?”

  “Sure.” I motion to the soft seating by the door. “Take a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Her bags spills onto the seat, her arse dropping down soon after. “I haven’t stopped today.”

  I smile, small and tight, and make my way to the copier. I’ve not stopped either. Sulking. I set the papers on the glass and press a few buttons, resting my hands on the side of the machine while it does its job, falling into thought.

  Australia. Fucking Australia. She has no one and she’s moving to Australia. I pout to myself.

  “I think they’re done.”

  Looking over my shoulder, I see Annie Ryan pointing to the machine. “Oh, right.” I pull the papers out of the tray and hand her a copy.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, taking the paperwork.

  I look up at her, and I have no idea what comes over me, no idea at all, but all of a sudden I’m talking and it has nothing to do with property. She just has a warm, friendly face, one that’s inviting me to ask. “You’re a woman, right?”

  Her frown is deep. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “If you had plans to move out of the country and you met a man before you were leaving, what would you say if he asked you not to go?” The next thing, I’m sitting next to her, getting comfortable.

  Annie laughs, seeming a little uncomfortable. “I’m probably not the best person to ask. I don’t really do relationships.”

  I retract, surprised. She’s a beautiful woman, and from what I know she’s smart, too. Self-employed, ambitious, driven. “So you’ve never had that spark all these people talk about?”

  “Not even a sizzle.” She stands, collecting her things together, smiling as she does. “But it sounds like you have.”

  I laugh under my breath, joining her. What the hell am I doing? I’ve completely lost my mind. “I’m sorry.” The poor woman only came to drop off some paperwork. “Bet you’re glad you stopped by.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.” Taking the door handle, she pauses a moment, and then looks over her shoulder. “I guess, if I ever did get that spark, I’d have to follow my heart.”

  “What if you don’t have a heart?”

  She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “You must have a heart, or you wouldn’t be in such a tangle.”

  I suddenly feel like a total tit. “I’m asking for a friend, of course.”

  “Of course.” She smiles knowingly.

  “It was nice meeting you, Annie. We’ll keep you up to date on the progress of the sale.”

  “Thanks. Hope your friend sorts out his little dilemma.”

  Little? I inwardly scoff.

  I see out Annie Ryan and lock the door, gazing around the empty space of the front office. I should get a grip. Next thing I know, I’ll be letting Georgia put me in one of her princess costumes. On a shake of my fuddled head, I head for my office, but I’ve barely put one foot in front of the other when a knock on the door behind me halts me. I frown, turning toward the door…and freeze.

  Raya stares at me through the glass, her face as straight as could be.

  Air inflates my lungs, the sight of her instigating prickles all over my skin. Just the sight of her. I haven’t heard her, touched her. But I want to. I shouldn’t, but I want to. Little dilemma? It’s laughable. I know the reasons for her sadness now; my questions have been answered, but my want for her hasn’t changed.

  For an age, we just stare through the glass at each other. If I open this door, I know what’s going to happen. I know I won’t be able to resist her this close. She came looking for me. What does she want, a parting gift? A good fuck before she disappears off on her travels and then makes a new life for herself in Australia? Falling further under her spell would be monumentally stupid. Tasting something, a personal favorite, knowing I’ll never get to ever again? No way.

  So why do I reach for the latch and pull the door open? It’s beyond me, and now there is nothing between us. No protection. No barrier. “What do you want, Raya?”

  She steps toward me tentatively, as if she’s questioning what she’s doing. And when she reaches me, her chest pressed to mine, she gazes up at me. “I don’t know.” Her eyes are wild and unsure. “But I know that every time we’re close, suddenly things are gray. I can’t figure you out. You’re warm and cold. I know what I’m scared of, but what are you scared of, Drew?”

  “You.” My mout
h is on her before I can think better of it, and I’ve lifted her from her feet before my tongue breaches the seam on her lips. We should talk, but this is the only thing I know what to say right now, and when her arms circle my shoulders, her mouth opening up, inviting me in, I know she’s okay with it. I know she gets it.

  With one arm around her waist holding her to me and one secured on the nape of her neck, I walk to my office, my kiss deep, my blood racing, my heart bouncing off my ribcage. I set her on her feet and take the hem of her dress, pulling it up over her head, losing her lips for just a second in the process. And I lose the buttons on yet another shirt when she wrenches it open, her hands immediately finding my skin beneath. My forward steps encourage her