“So you would have given our baby up for adoption without telling me?” Max’s voice breaks a little. “Or would you have ended the pregnancy altogether?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I could have had an abortion, or I’d have had one when I found out, but I don’t know if I could have coped with adoption. Either way, it doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen.”
“If it didn’t matter, you would have told me long ago and you know it.” The look on Max’s face veers from disbelief to disgust. “Why are you telling me this now? Why now instead of, say, any time we were together these past few weeks?”
“Because I don’t want to hide anymore.” I bite my lip and make myself continue. “I didn’t ghost you because I didn’t want to be with you anymore. I ghosted you because I knew I had to tell you the truth and I didn’t know how.”
“Looks to me like you found a way.” Max’s tone is flat now.
“I’ve been seeing a therapist who’s helped a lot.” I don’t really want to start going down the Allison says route, but I will if it helps.
“Right, of course you can talk to someone else about this but not to me.”
“That’s not what this is.” I hear the pleading tone in my voice. Of all the turns I thought this conversation would take, this was not one of them.
“Then tell me what it is.” Max’s voice has an edge to it.
Maybe that edge is what makes me react. Or maybe it was inevitable. Either way, for how stoic I’ve been, suddenly my emotions are a wave crashing over me like I’m a flip flop on the sand.
“I was sixteen when I got pregnant. I was alone, Max. You were gone. The only person who knew was Rina, and I pretended so hard all day every day that everything was normal that I would have believed it myself if not for the nausea. Then I lost the baby and my first thought was thank God. I felt guilty to be so relieved, but it meant I didn’t have to tell anyone or do anything except hide the fact that I was having a miscarriage from my parents instead of hiding the fact that I was having a baby. At the time it felt like an answer to my prayers. But the guilt practically ate me alive. The only way I could deal with it was to bury it.” My voice cracks. “But it turns out guilt doesn’t die when you try to bury it. It takes root. It’s this living thing inside of me and I’ve carried it for twelve years and finally it got too heavy. Seeing you again, loving you again, made it too damn heavy.”
My voice is ragged and I turn away so Max won’t see the tears spilling down my cheeks. But he grabs my elbow. His touch is gentle – I could wrench myself away in an instant, but I don’t.
“I’m sorry.” Max’s voice is so soft I can barely hear him. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I swallow so maybe I don’t sound so much like I’m choking. “I’m sorry too.”
Max puts an arm around me then. Finally. I lean against his chest and let myself sink into him. He smells so familiar and his arms feel like home. I could stay here all night if he wasn’t so rigid.
Holding me isn’t a relief for him. It’s an obligation.
The realization makes me want to sob.
I let go, easing myself away from him like an addict weaning off her last fix. Once I’ve extricated myself, I shove my hands in my pockets again and look up. Max’s face is sad, but he can’t meet my eyes and that sob bubbles dangerously close to the surface. I’ve got to get out of here before I fall apart because Max will feel like he has to try to put me back together again.
He can’t do that right now any more than I can ask him to.
“I love you, Max. I’ve loved you since I used to do your maths homework and I don’t think I’ve ever stopped. Not really. I understand all of this is hard for you to hear and that you need some time, so I’m going to give you that.” My voice cracks and I dig my fingernails into my palm so hard I wouldn’t be surprised to draw blood. “You know how to find me when you’re ready to talk.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I wait for Max to respond. I stand in front of him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t say a word.
It feels like an hour has passed by the time I step away from him. I still expect him to call me back. To reach for me. Something. But he doesn’t. Finally, I turn and walk away. An ambulance goes by with its siren wailing and I stop. I’ll never hear Max over that sound. When the ambulance turns the corner, speeding out of sight, I let myself turn around.
Just in case.
Just to see.
Even though I know what I’ll find, the force of it hits me like a lorry that’s lost its brakes going down a hill.
The sidewalk is empty. Max is gone.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Tara, I’m wondering if you might have a minute?” Bradley asks as I’m packing up to leave a couple weeks after my fateful evening with Max.
It’s late – I’ve been staying late at the office a lot these past couple weeks. It beats going home and trying to resist the urge to cyberstalk Max. The more tired I am when I get home, the more likely I am to collapse into bed with a book instead of my phone.
“Sure.” I hoist my bag over my shoulder and walk towards Bradley’s glass-walled office.
He goes back behind his desk and points to one of the blue leather chairs. “Please. Have a seat.”
Bradley looks uncertain, which immediately puts me on high alert because Bradley never looks uncertain. I perch on one of the chairs and say, “If you’re going to fire me, I’d like to request that you do it during normal business hours, please.”
“That’s an atypical request.” Bradley furrows his brow. “I’m not going to fire you, but I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”
“Well, that way I can go right to HR and try to negotiate a package instead of just being let go.” I grin and shrug a little. “It’s worth a shot, right?”
“That’s not a bad strategy. Although I doubt you’d ever find yourself in that position.” Bradley smiles but doesn’t say anything else.
I wait for a few long seconds before I say, “So if you didn’t ask me in here to fire me, what can I help you with? I’ve finished all of the preliminary drawings for the Fat Rabbit. I know we have a meeting on Thursday to discuss them, but I’m happy to discuss them sooner.”
“Thank you, but Thursday will be fine.” Bradley purses his lips a little. “I actually wanted to discuss something a bit more personal with you.”
“Okay?” I train my expression to be neutral. I haven’t brought my drama with Max into the office, except to tell Gemma I saw him. And that was when we were out getting salads for lunch. I’ve also been working like a woman possessed, so Bradley can’t possibly reprimand me for letting my work suffer due to my personal problems. Unless Scarlett has told him, I doubt he’d know I’ve been having personal problems.
“I’m wondering if you can do me a favor? It’s a bit unusual and it will require your discretion.” Bradley pauses but not long enough for me to speak. Which is probably a good thing because the first place my mind goes is to a sex joke, which wouldn’t be funny for at least ten different reasons. “I’m taking Scarlett on a trip, but it’s a surprise and I’m wondering if you could possibly pack a bag for her? I’d do it myself except I suspect I’ll forget something crucial and I don’t want to mar the trip with shoddy packing.”
“Um, sure.” My eyes widen in surprise. Of all the things I thought Bradley might ask me, this didn’t make the list. But I can also see why he wouldn’t want to pack for Scarlett. She has a lot of dos and don’ts about what to bring on a trip. “Where are you going?”
“The Maldives. So it will be mostly beach things, although something more elegant will also be necessary.”
“Wait.” A sex joke is possibly less appropriate than what I’m about to ask, but I can’t help it. “Is this a proposal trip?”
“I can’t say, but if it were, I’d want it to be perfect.” Bradley purses his lips, then says, “I’d also want it to be a complete surprise.”
“Yes.” I grin and clap my hands together, then force myself to sit on them so I won’t start clapping full stop. “Yes, of course. I think you both deserve a holiday and the Maldives looks amazing. Scarlett will love it.”
“I hope so.” Relief flickers across Bradley’s face. “Our flight is tomorrow evening. If I give you the keys, do you think you might be able to go over to our flat tomorrow before three? I’m picking her up from work at half-four.”
“Yes, of course. Are you sure she won’t be there? I know she works from home sometimes.”
“I’ve checked. She’s in a client meeting all day.” Bradley smiles. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s with her most difficult client, as well.”
“So she’ll be even more appreciative of a holiday.” I smile, too. “How long are you going for?”
“Only a week, unfortunately. But a week away from the cold and rain is always appreciated.”
“It is.” I point to the window. It’s dark outside, but it’s been pissing down all day and I’m sure it still is. “I need to book a weekend away from all of this.”
“I almost booked Morocco. It’s still warm there and there’s a lot more to the country than Marrakech.”
“That’s a good idea.” I nod. “A spa weekend in Essaouira could be exactly what I need.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of vacation time. You should use it.”
“I’m going to look tonight.” I pat my thighs with my hands and stand up. “But don’t worry. I won’t be going anywhere before I get Scarlett’s things together for you.”
“Thank you.” Bradley stands up, too. “And thank you for keeping this between us for now. I will, of course, give you all the credit for Scarlett having exactly the right things for our holiday.”
“I don’t want credit. I want you to have a great time.” I take a step towards the door. “And if there are any once-in-a-lifetime moments, maybe a photo or two?”
“If there are any of those moments, I’m sure there will be photos.” Bradley grins and his phone rings. He glances at the screen and says, “That’s Scarlett wondering where I am. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tara, and thank you again.”
I wave and listen with a smile on my face as he answers. I love Scarlett like the sister I never had and Bradley is her perfect match. I can’t imagine either one of them with anyone else and I’m so thrilled for both of them that I’m giddy.
As I’m walking down the stairs, I pull out my phone. This is the kind of news to share, although not with anyone too close to either Scarlett or Bradley. I can’t tell Gemma. Or Tom – even though I would if we were still together. I think about texting my mum. She always liked Scarlett and she’ll be as thrilled as I am.
I hover over Max’s name for a minute. He doesn’t know either one of them well enough to have an opinion, but he knows they’re important to me. And Max has always been a great person to share good news with. I haven’t heard from him since that night, but maybe this could be an olive branch. Or something.
I let my fingers fly over the screen before I can second guess myself for the third time, fleetingly wondering if there’s such a thing as sixth guessing yourself. Hey. I’m pretty sure Scarlett and Bradley are getting engaged soon. I’m super excited for them and dying to share, so you’re my lucky share-ee. I hope you’re well. I saw your match the other night and you looked great out there. Xx
I read my words on the screen at least ten times. I don’t know if texting Max is a good idea. Then again, I don’t know if not texting Max is a good idea. I read my text one more time, bite my lip, and press Send.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Packing for Scarlett’s surprise trip is way more stressful than I thought it would be. I know it’s because I want everything to be perfect, but I spend an inordinately long time choosing between her black and red bras – and that’s before I get to the swimsuits. By the time I hand the suitcase off to Bradley and he tells me to take off for the day, I don’t protest. It’s only three o’clock on Friday, but I’m the kind of exhausted that only a good cup of coffee can cure. Not a crappy cup from the office kitchen, a good one from the small coffee hut around the corner.
With cake.
I queue up outside – there’s always a queue since the coffee hut is basically the size of a garden shed – and pull my phone out of my pocket. I’ve been trying to ignore my phone, which has been easier than I thought it would be, considering Max hasn’t texted me back. Part of me didn’t expect him to, so that probably helps, too.
However, I’m totally unprepared for the text that is on my screen from Rina: I got this message from Max Foster this morning???? He sent it to me on Facebook. I haven’t responded yet.
Rina included the screenshot of the message, which reads:
Rina – I wanted to send you my long overdue thanks for helping Tara back in high school. I’ve only recently become aware of the mess I left behind and I can’t tell you how glad I am that Tara had a friend like you. I owe you. I know it’s not nearly enough, but if you ever fancy seeing Norcastle play, let me know. Thank you again, Max.
I read Max’s message to Rina three times, then start to text her back, but my hands shake too much, and I need to call her instead.
She answers on the third ring, saying, “Thank God you called. What is that? Can you tell me, please?”
“We had a talk a couple weeks ago and I told him everything. I haven’t heard from him since, but I’m glad he reached out to you.” Max has always been decent and that hasn’t changed.
“I don’t know what to say. How am I supposed to respond?”
“I don’t know. Check the Norcastle schedule, maybe?” I smile and inch forward in line.
“I don’t think Raj will ever forgive me if I don’t.” Rina laughs. “But what do I say about you?”
“There’s nothing to say. I’d say something like thanks for reaching out and leave it at that. And make sure you get tickets, of course.”
“Of course.” Rina laughs again, but her tone turns serious as she says, “I assume telling him didn’t go well?”
“He was upset. We more or less left it at that.” I don’t want to give Rina all the details. Not only because I don’t feel like recounting them for everyone to hear but because it will only make me feel worse. I’m finally starting to feel less bad, which is no small feat.
“So, you told him, and you haven’t heard from him since?” Rina asks. I make a muted uh huh sound and she says, “Do you want me to tell him to stop being a plonker and convince him to come groveling back to you?”
“I assume he’s taking some time.” God knows, I’ve had years to deal with this. Max deserves more than a couple weeks. “It’s a lot.”
“It is, but it was also a long time ago. Do you think you’ll hear from him?”
“I don’t know. But I guess you will.” I kind of can’t believe it, but I’m smiling again. “Tell him I said hi, okay?”
“You got it.” Rina lets out a sigh. “I need to do the school run in a minute, but keep me posted?”
“I will and thank you.”
“If I hear from him again, do you want to know?” Rina asks.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head slowly, even though she can’t see me. “It will make me feel bad.”
“Okay, deal. Any idea when you’re coming north again?” Rina adds, “Did I tell you I got involved with the local theater group and I’m in this year’s panto?”
“You did not. Oh my God.” I laugh. “I’m definitely coming to see that then.”
Rina said she’d changed since having kids and this is absolute proof. I can’t imagine the girl I knew in high school performing in a cheesy Christmas musical. She laughs and says, “You’re welcome before then. Give me some notice so I can make sure the kids are sorted. And of course, you need to stay here when you come.” There’s a ringing in the background and Rina says, “That’s the landline. No one calls it but Raj, so I should answer, but let me know when you’re coming.”
“I will,” I say. But Rina’s already hung up.
I grin at my screen and find myself smiling all the way through ordering my flat white with oat milk. One good thing that’s come out of all of this has been reconnecting with Rina. And Max. Even if I never hear from him again, being with him again was the kick in the bum I needed to start seeing Allison.
Scratch that. Having feelings for him – again/still – was the kick in the bum I needed to start dealing with the past. Finally.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I fish it out with the hand that’s not curled around my coffee cup. It’s a text from my mum, with a photo of Tariq and his daughter at her kitchen table. Making your curry tonight. Xx
My curry usually means garlic chili chicken. My mum makes a butter chicken base and builds up from there. It’s pure decadence. A pang of longing reverberates through my chest. I haven’t been home in so long. It’s not the Maldives, but maybe a trip to Leeds this weekend wouldn’t be a bad idea. I can throw some stuff in a bag when I get home and hop on the train. I could be there for dinner if I’m quick enough. I think about texting my mum, then think better of it. She’ll want to know what train I’ll be on and I don’t know yet. Plus, it gives me an out in case I change my mind by the time I get home, which is a possibility.
It becomes a bigger one as I turn the corner to double back past WS on my way to the Tube and I see Max walking out the front door. I stop and my stomach flip-flops. But it’s nothing compared to what it does when Max turns and starts walking right towards me.
Chapter Forty-Nine
It takes Max six strides to reach me. I know because I count. He stops two feet away. I count that too.
I wish I wasn’t holding a coffee because I want to wrap my arms around my chest so it doesn’t explode. Instead, I grip my cup with both hands, letting the warmth seep into my skin. It takes all of my will to stay quiet, to let him speak first. Although he looks up at me and doesn’t say a word for thirty-seven seconds.
A Brit Player (Castle Calder Book 4) Page 19
