The Last Piece of My Heart

by Paige Toon

  I spend the day exploring the area, taking photographs and making notes, but although the setting inspires me, I can’t get rid of the nausea that’s constantly churning away.

  Charlie returns early that evening and my pulse races at the sight of him, but, when I ask if I can help with April’s bedtime routine, he turns me down.

  ‘Just let me get her sorted tonight,’ he says, giving me a pleading look before he goes into his room and shuts the door behind him.

  Later that night, we find ourselves in one of the most romantic, picturesque places in the world. Our tables are set upon the sand and over our heads, stalactites drip down from the cave ceiling, while out in front of us, Thailand’s ethereal islands seem to float away in the distance, on top of the calm, still water.

  I can’t enjoy a second of it.

  ‘Can you tell me what’s going through your mind?’ I ask gently.

  ‘I’m still trying to work it out.’ His voice is heavy as he stares into his wineglass. ‘I just want to do the best thing for April.’

  ‘You think I’d ever hurt her?’

  ‘You’re already hurting her.’ I breathe in sharply at his words. ‘She’s already developed an attachment to you that’s causing her pain.’ He leans forward in his seat, pinning me with a disconcertingly hard stare. ‘The weeks after you left were tough. She didn’t just miss you: she pined for you. She’s getting older now, she’s starting to understand. I can’t have her thinking you’re her mother if you’re just going to up and leave us when you get bored.’

  ‘Charlie!’ I gasp.

  ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ he asks challengingly. ‘It’s not like you haven’t done that before.’ His eyes are glimmering in the candlelight, but he’s not upset: he’s determined. ‘I don’t want the next piece of your heart, Bridget.’

  I recoil, stunned.

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘You don’t get it. You think this is just another relationship for me.’ I don’t give him a chance to confirm or deny it. ‘You’re wrong,’ I state. ‘I’ve never felt like this before. I really think this is it.’

  ‘And your blog?’

  ‘To hell with my blog! I’ll tear it down. I’m done with it. I’m never going to post another entry again, I swear. I don’t want to! It means nothing, Charlie. Not any more. You and April are the only things I care about.’

  He averts his gaze, unconvinced.

  ‘Charlie,’ I plead. ‘What about last night?’

  He looks tortured as he returns his eyes to me and whispers, ‘I’m just a man, Bridget.’

  He might as well have slapped me.

  ‘So you can have sex with me but you can’t fall in love with me?’ I’m fighting not to raise my voice.

  ‘Argh, Bridget, it was the anniversary of Nicki’s death only two weeks ago!’ he snaps with frustration. ‘Surely you get that it’s too soon for me to start something new.’

  ‘I understand, of course I do, but—’

  He cuts me off. ‘It’s not that I don’t have feelings for you, because I do, and obviously I’m attracted to you, but I need space to come to terms with everything. The best thing for April and me is to go home to Cornwall and try to get back to normal.’

  He has my heart in his fist and he’s squeezing.

  I knew it was too soon for him. I knew nothing could – should – ever happen here in Thailand. But it did. And now I have to live with it. As mistakes go, this one is catastrophic.

  ‘You need to put your head down, too,’ he says softly as my eyes fill with tears. It hurts so much. ‘This book is due in less than three months. We owe it to Nicki to do it right – and her family, too. Let’s see how things stand next year.’

  ‘But April will change so much in the next few months! I don’t want to go that long without seeing her!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, quietly. ‘But it won’t do her any good if you just drop in on her from time to time. She needs stability in her life right now.’

  I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s resolute. Nothing I say will convince him. This is not our time.

  I get up and walk out of the restaurant before I lose it.

  They leave the next day, whereas I still have one more day to get through. It’s everything I can do not to cry as the boat draws away with April looking at me over her shoulder. I wave at her, and when she flops her little hand back and forth in an attempt to mimic my gesture, my heart shatters.

  Whatever happens with Charlie, I know that I’ll do my best to pick myself up and glue back the pieces. I don’t believe that I’ll ever again love anyone else the way that I love him, but I will live.

  But, if I never see April again, it’ll break me.

  Turns out it wasn’t a man who had the last piece of my heart, after all.

  It was a baby girl.

  Chapter 45

  I’m a mess when I return to London, but I have to pull myself together and focus. I’m determined to do the very best job that I can with this book. I want to do it for April. I want to do it for Charlie. I want to do it for Valerie, Kate and Alain, too.

  But, most of all, I want to do it for Nicki.

  I do owe her that much.

  I spend long days at my writing desk, pouring my heart and soul into every single page. Marty comes over occasionally with bottles of wine and attempts to cheer me up, but I’m not much in the mood for socialising. She’s worried because she’s never seen me like this. My grief feels soul-deep, and I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.

  Marty was both pensive and sympathetic when I told her about what happened in Thailand, but she understands that I have to prioritise my work right now so she doesn’t put pressure on me to talk too much about what I’m going through.

  It’s hard to write about Thailand without thinking about Charlie and what happened there, but Kit’s pain feels real, because mine is, too, and I don’t hold back. I just hope that my emotion comes across to my – no, Nicki’s – readers.

  Sometimes I call Fay, and Sara, too, when the pressure gets to me and I need help in finding my way through the trees. Fay usually encourages me to take a long walk or to read a book. Once, she even suggested I go and see a movie – anything to get me out of my head and unlock my writer’s block. ‘Beauty inspires beauty,’ she said. Music also helps to motivate me.

  I’ve taken down the blog and have told Sara that I can’t write my book. She understood. After all, one day I was supposed to be writing about a marriage proposal from Elliot, so, when we broke up, she saw my happy ending flying right out of the window. I feel terrible for wasting so much of her time, but I couldn’t go back to it.

  I may write another novel one day when the dust from this one has settled. But, if all I ever do is write travel pieces, well, I’d still count myself lucky.

  When I told Fay what I had in mind for Kit, she wasn’t at all sure. She thought Kit ending up sad and alone sounded like a real downer, but she told me to go with my heart.

  I’m a little surprised when my heart leads me in a different direction. . .

  Morris does divorce Kit because he wants children and she continues to pretend that she doesn’t. She’s determined to stick to the vow she once made to herself: that she won’t bring a baby into the mess she’s created.

  She’s devastated to lose Morris, but she finds some relief in being just with Timo. Finally, she can live a normal married life.

  She moves to Thailand permanently, but she soon discovers that she doesn’t know Timo as well as she thought she did. Their relationship was built on rocky ground and worked because it was so highly charged – every time they parted ways, the anguish over Kit returning to England for long lengths of time would drive their passion. Eventually, that passion levels out and, within the course of three years, Kit’s desire for a baby overcomes her. But Timo is adamant that he doesn’t want one, so their marriage ultimately breaks down, and Kit returns to Cornwall.

  Kit has missed Morris terribly and she’s crushed to learn
that he’s now married to someone else, with a baby of his own on the way. He’s where he sought to be in life and she’s happy for him, but inside she’s tormented. She still loves him, but she also wants the best for him, so she vows to herself that she’ll keep her distance from him and his family.

  Then she finds out that she’s pregnant with Timo’s baby and he is furious when she calls to tell him. He asks her to terminate the pregnancy, but she refuses, saying that she’ll raise it herself.

  She pours all of the love that she has into her baby – a little girl she names Aubrey.

  As the years pass, Aubrey starts asking questions about her father, and Timo eventually comes around to the idea of having a relationship with his daughter. Kit and Timo become friends, and, when Aubrey is old enough, she visits Thailand on her own to spend time with her dad.

  Kit loves being a mother more than anything else in the world.

  But it’s not enough.

  She has short-lived romances, but her feelings for other men pale in comparison to what she felt for Morris and Timo. She experienced the deepest kind of love – twice. If only it hadn’t been at the same time.

  Cornwall is a small world, and sometimes Kit sees Morris from afar with his beautiful wife and three sons and wonders how things might’ve been if she’d never met Timo on that work trip to Thailand.

  But, if she’d never met Timo, Aubrey wouldn’t exist, and having her daughter is something she will never regret.

  When I finish writing the last page, I burst into tears. It’s a long time before I’ve composed myself, but, once I have, I pick up the phone and call Charlie. He’s the first – the only – person I want to share my news with tonight.

  My heart thuds dully as his mobile rings out and goes to voicemail.

  I send him a text: ‘Just finished the book. Wanted to say hello.’

  He replies almost straight away and I’m crushed, knowing that he likely let his phone ring out on purpose: ‘Well done. I’m proud of you.’

  It’s been two and a half months since Thailand and he still won’t speak to me. When will he agree to see me? April is growing and changing with every week that passes – how much of her life am I going to miss out on before he comes around? What if he doesn’t? The more time that passes, the more terrified I feel.

  What if the next time I see them is at the launch party for Nicki’s book? It will have been almost a year. April will be speaking. She will have grown so much. She won’t even remember me. Charlie will be distant, detached, just getting on with his life and putting the past behind him. The pain I feel upon conjuring up this image is colossal.

  I can’t let it come to that.

  My phone buzzes again with another message from Charlie: ‘April and I are visiting Valerie and Kate in a few weeks – maybe we could catch up for lunch on our way to Essex?’

  ‘I’d love that,’ I text back, my spirits rising. Does this mean there’s still hope for us?

  Or does he just want us to be friends?

  A few weeks away feels like a lifetime. It’s already been so long.

  Somehow I’ve got to convince him that we’d be good together. Charlie is like no one else I’ve ever known. He’s so determined and driven and he’s always set on doing what’s right.

  But this time he’s wrong. How can I make him see that? I’ve never been in this position before so I don’t know what to do and I’m not sure who I can ask.

  ‘You can always ask me. . .’

  I jerk as a memory comes back to me. Pat. Charlie’s mother. What was it she said?

  ‘Charlie’s not much of a talker. And he finds it very hard to talk about Nicki. So, if there’s anything you need to know about her, them, whatever, then you can always ask me. . . I’ll give you my number so you have it if you need it.’

  At the time, I thought that, if it didn’t feel right asking Charlie something, I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking his mother. I didn’t even need her help because he opened up to me himself, despite not being ‘much of a talker’.

  Without thinking about it, I search for her number in my contacts and call her.

  ‘Hello?’ she answers warily.

  ‘Pat, hello, it’s Bridget!’ I say, hoping that the caution in her tone is just because the caller ID displayed an unknown number.

  ‘Bridget!’ she exclaims. ‘Hello there, love, how are you doing?’

  I exhale with relief. She genuinely seems pleased to hear from me.

  ‘I’m okay, thank you,’ I reply, wondering if Charlie has told her anything about us. ‘I’ve finished writing Nicki’s book.’

  ‘Oh, that’s fantastic! Well done! Are you happy with it?’

  ‘I think so. I only reached the end tonight, so obviously no one’s read it, yet, but hopefully Fay will think I’ve done a good job.’

  ‘I’m sure she will.’

  Nerves crash through me. ‘Um, do you remember once offering me your help if I ever needed it?’

  ‘Yes. Is there something you’d like to know?’

  ‘I need to ask you a question.’

  ‘Okay. . .’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I’m in love with your son,’ I blurt. ‘I love Charlie. And I love April. And I think that Charlie might love me, but he’s scared. He’s scared that this is just another relationship for me – and I don’t blame him for coming to that conclusion,’ I say quickly. ‘But he’s wrong. Please, he’s so wrong.’

  I’m panting, clutching my hand to my chest.

  ‘Are you there?’ I ask.

  It’s gone very quiet at the other end of the line.

  ‘I’m here,’ she says. ‘But you haven’t actually asked me a question.’ She sounds amused.

  I laugh. ‘Oh, God, okay. Do you think that he loves me, too?’

  She chuckles under her breath. ‘I think that, in this instance, Bridget, this really is a question for Charlie. . .’

  ‘Oh, Pat, I want to ask him! But I’m not sure he’ll admit to it! He was so steadfast in Thailand about doing the best thing for April, but I believe I could be good for her – for him. We could make this work.’

  There’s a long moment of silence. ‘I agree with you, love. Charlie was broken before you came along. He was lost. You made him laugh again. You brought joy back into that house. He was crushed when you left Cornwall. You’re right. He is scared. He’s scared of giving his heart away and never getting it back again.’

  Whoa, she used to read my blog?

  ‘I want his heart,’ I say firmly. ‘I want it forever.’

  ‘You’d better come and get it, then,’ she replies.

  I drive through the night, not wanting to miss another minute without Charlie and April in my life. If I have to become a mad stalker and camp in his tiny front garden for the foreseeable future, then so be it. I’d even stand there and play my music to him, like John Cusack at the end of the eighties classic Say Anything. I might need a more powerful speaker but, fuck it, I’ll try anything.

  It’s four thirty in the morning when I pull up on his street. The sun is still several hours away beneath the horizon, and as I sit there, staring at the quiet, dark house, I wish I’d thought through my timings a little better.

  Dad’s right: it is quicker to drive through the night. But what am I going to do now?

  If only I had. . .

  Oh, my God! I do still have a key! Charlie never asked for it back and I completely forgot to give it to him!

  I lie. I kept it on purpose, like the crazy stalker that I am.

  I dig around in my bag and pull it out, triumphant. Then, with my pulse going haywire, I get out of the car, walk up the path and insert the key in the lock.

  If the alarm goes off, I’m busted.

  I hold my breath, hoping he’s not about to come downstairs brandishing a baseball bat.

  But nothing. Phew.

  I very quietly close the door behind me and stand there, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. My heart contracts, knowing that the two people
I love most in this world are upstairs, fast asleep. I really don’t want to completely freak Charlie out by appearing in his bedroom like an apparition, but I can’t – I just can’t – go any longer before seeing him again.

  I head upstairs, pausing outside April’s room before deciding that, no, standing over her cot really would be too creepy.

  I walk further along the corridor and halt again.

  What am I doing? I’m probably going to give him a heart attack. For a moment I consider going back downstairs and waiting in my car until the sun comes up, but I decide to press on.

  I take a deep breath and walk into his room. The sound of his steady breathing fills the air. I go and kneel at the side of his bed and look at his tranquil face.

  ‘Charlie,’ I whisper, brushing my hand over his arm. ‘Charlie?’

  He jolts awake, his eyes widening as they turn from hazy to sharp.

  ‘Bridget?’

  ‘I don’t mean to terrify you, but I’ve driven all through the night to get here. Please don’t throw me out.’

  He stares at me for a long moment, obviously surprised, but then he edges over in his bed and lifts up the cover of his duvet for me.

  I’m filled with hope as I slide in next to him. We face each other in the darkness, pillow to pillow.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he whispers.

  ‘I love you,’ I say. ‘And I’m not giving up, because I believe you love me too.’

  He doesn’t deny it.

  ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ Emotion suddenly overcomes me and my eyes fill with tears. I cup the side of his face with my hand. ‘Please let me be a part of your life, Charlie. You have my whole heart. You and April. I’ve never loved anyone more. I’d give up my flat in London in a heartbeat and move to Cornwall tomorrow, if you’d let me. I want to be with you forever. I want us to be a family.’

  A beat passes. ‘Come here,’ he says gruffly, drawing me against his body. He kisses me gently and a shiver runs down my spine, but I’m scared of this just being sex. Perhaps he senses my reticence, because he pulls away. ‘I love you too,’ he says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. ‘I’ve loved you for a long time. I don’t even know when I started loving you because there’ve been so many moments that made me love you. Does that make sense? I just needed time to come to terms with everything. I had to be sure. I needed you to be sure.’