by Emma Jackson
I swore and moved to follow her, detaching Georgina’s hands without even paying any attention. That was a situation I’d have to face later. I could hear her calling me back but all I cared about was catching up with Noelle.
Chapter Fifteen
I got off that snooty boat and ran down the concrete pier to the gates where the park was. But I’m not a fast runner. Despite being weighed down by half the Hudson, his expensive leather shoes water-logged and squelching, Stephen caught up with me.
‘Stop, please, Noelle,’ he called out as he grew closer, but he didn’t make a grab for me. Probably didn’t want to end up in the river again. It was tempting. Much as I’d been terrified when I pushed him over, seeing him disappear under the water, now I’d seen that he could swim – all strong arms and sleek lines no less – I didn’t feel half so guilty.
‘Leave me alone,’ I called back, but I was running out of puff and my stupid sandals were coming undone again. I really needed a new pair.
‘I’m not going to say “it’s not what you think”,’ he called out again. We were getting looks now from people, out trying to enjoy their Friday night. A puffed-out girl and a soggy man chasing her. There had been stranger sights in New York though. ‘It partly was. But not entirely. She’s been flirting with me since I got here. I wasn’t going to do anything.’
My side was screaming, I really needed to start visiting the gym. Unlike Stephen who’d swum like an Olympian through the water and chased me down without even getting out of breath. I stopped and he nearly ran into me.
‘And yet you were just—’ I gulped for air ‘—letting her undress you?’
‘I was about to stop her—’
‘Of course you were—’
‘Do you really think that the first thing I wanted to do after being pushed into the river was have a fumble with my manager? While you were still on board? What kind of bastard d’you think I am?’
I didn’t answer him on that count and his face turned grim.
‘Noelle, for Christ sake, she’s my boss. It’s an awkward situation. How am I supposed to reject her without getting myself in trouble?’ He wiped water from his face and overhead there was a rumble of thunder.
‘Are you trying to tell me that you’re being sexually harassed? Are you selling me a Disclosure type of story here?’
‘I know, I know. It’s ridiculous isn’t it?’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘No one will believe it. I’m the office bike. Someone tells you that I made a bet with them, that I’m only interested in you as a conquest and you believe them. Because that’s my reputation isn’t it?’ His shoulders sagged. ‘I don’t blame you for jumping to all those conclusions. It’s what everyone thinks. Like father like son after all.’ His cheeks were pale, his dark eyes downcast. I recognised the expression from seeing him face his father’s ex. This shameful resignation for something that wasn’t his fault.
I bit my lip. I thought of the way his boss had touched his arm earlier. The way he’d stiffened up under the touch, so uncomfortable with it. How his arms had been folded across his chest in the cabin as she tried to undress him. If he’d been participating willingly, I knew he would have been a lot more active than that.
I’d been letting all those doubts creep in and multiply. I shook my head and pinched my nose. Damn champagne. Damn inferiority complex.
Goddamn stupid, beautiful, messed-up man.
‘You could call Nick,’ he continued quietly. ‘He could tell you. I spoke to him about her the other week.’
I shook my head again and threw my arms around his waist. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve been an idiot tonight.’
His arms moved around me cautiously. ‘You believe me?’
‘Yes. Yes. I’m sorry. About both things.’
‘Believing Logan? And thinking I was cheating on you?’
‘Yes.’ My heart gave a strange squeeze at the words he’d used. Cheating implied a promise broken, but he’d made me no promises.
‘What about pushing me in the river?’
I looked up at him and grimaced at his raised eyebrow. ‘Oh, yeah, that too. I’ve been on fire tonight haven’t I? I’m so sorry.’
He shook his head and pushed some loose strands of hair back from my face. ‘I don’t blame you—’
‘Don’t, Stephen, please, it only makes me feel worse. So what if in the past you’ve had casual sex with half of London? It doesn’t make it okay for your boss to come on to you in that way. She’s in a position of power over you.’
‘I really haven’t slept with half of London,’ he choked out. ‘I just. After Mum…I didn’t like staying home alone.’
My heart squeezed again. ‘I was just exaggerating to make a point, that no matter what you choose to do with your body, it doesn’t give her any rights over you.’
‘Perhaps. But I’ve made choices about how to conduct myself and it’s had consequences. It’s the reason you believed Logan isn’t it?’
Rain started falling then. Big fat irregular drops splatting down around us onto the concrete.
‘That’s not it. It’s because you’re so handsome.’
He snorted. ‘I accept your apology, Noelle; you don’t need to lay it on so thick.’
‘No really. I told you how I never had any boyfriends in high school, how no one ever paid any attention to me? Well, there was one boy who paid attention to me. One very handsome, popular boy. Justin Bickerman.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘And what did Justin Bickerman do?’
‘I was always in the library – obviously – and he started coming in to do his assignments. Then he started talking to me, asking about what I was reading and writing. I couldn’t believe it. This cute boy who all the girls wanted to date, was talking to me. And then, he asked me to prom. I was walking on air.’ I swallowed. ‘I spent all my allowance on a new dress, and I waited, and I waited, and he never came to pick me up. Turns out it was all a bet some boys on the football team had made. “Date the Desperates” they called it. They pulled names from a hat and he got me.’
Stephen swore. ‘What little shits.’
I nodded and put my hand to his face, so sharp and masculine and gorgeous. Eyes deep and dark. His mouth sculpted for sin. ‘You can see why I might doubt the motives of a handsome man like yourself? Why would you be interested in me if not to use me or as a cruel joke? I’m a still a chubby, bespectacled, bookish girl inside.’
‘I find you stunning, Noelle, inside and out. Have I ever said anything other than that? Ever acted differently other than when you told me I wasn’t allowed to?’
He hadn’t. When he put it so simply, I searched my memory and he’d never given me any reason to doubt that he was genuinely attracted to me. So what if he hadn’t asked me out first at the hotel? And so what if he didn’t want a long-term relationship with me? He wanted me for as much as he thought he was capable of. This much I knew. Maybe he wasn’t going to be ‘the one’ to settle down and have babies with. But maybe he could be ‘the one’ to convince me that I could genuinely be desirable to a man like him. That was something and wasn’t a waste of time. And if I knew that’s all I was getting from this, surely that would stop it from hurting when it ended?
‘I’m happy to prove it further, too.’ He dipped his head, nudged my nose with his and nipped at my lips.
‘Well, I do like hard evidence,’ I waggled my eyebrows. His mouth lined up with mine, but I put my finger up in between us. ‘Wait.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I was sick. Before. On the boat. I can’t kiss you until I’ve brushed and flossed.’
He pressed his lips together. ‘I probably taste of river too.’
I laughed and plucked at his wet clothes, which were only getting damper as the rain grew more persistent. ‘You definitely smell of it.’
‘Sexy.’ He laughed too. ‘Let’s grab a taxi back to my place and get cleaned up.’
‘So we can get dirty again?’
‘Precisely.’
‘Maybe if we hurry. The rain’s still light.’ He caught my hand and started tugging me along the path.
‘Hang on.’ I bent and yanked at my dodgy sandals, pulling them off to hold in my free hand. ‘Let’s cut across the park.’
‘Lead the way.’
We ran across the slick grass, laughing and sliding as the rain grew heavier. When we came out to the road, Stephen swung me up into his arms, making me squeal and we flagged down a cab, the yellow taxi splashing us as it pulled up to the sidewalk. We bundled into the back and the driver started complaining about us getting the seat wet and muddy.
‘I’ll pay you triple the fare,’ Stephen offered.
‘Okay, brother.’ The Irish cabbie grinned.
‘Take the quick route, mind. I’m not a tourist and we’re in a hurry,’ I warned him.
‘I can see that.’
‘Oh, one more thing.’ Stephen leaned forward again. ‘You don’t happen to have any chewing gum, do you? Two pieces?’
‘For triple the fare you can have the whole pack.’ The cabbie threw a pot into the back with us. Stephen caught it, fed me a piece and grabbed one himself. By the time we arrived at Stephen’s building we were minty fresh, chewed gum deposited in the trash can outside the entrance to his building. The thunder was rumbling loud and long overhead, rain falling in sheets. As soon as we got through the door of his apartment, we set to the work of peeling each other’s soaked clothes off, any thoughts of showering abandoned.
He kissed me with an intensity that told me he had something he wanted to prove, and I was on board for it. He was thorough and tender, and I was losing my mind. I wanted to heat his chilled skin up, my hands eager for every inch of him. He carried me to the table, swiped all the paperwork off it, and lowered me onto the edge. Lightning streaked the black sky outside the windows and glittered in his dark eyes as they stared into mine. I felt myself falling, further and further, succumbing to the heat and the blur and the dangerous fantasy of what it might feel like to be loved by him.
The rain fell all night. First in great dramatic swaths, and then easing off to a soothing hush, that lulled us to sleep, once we collapsed into my bed.
By the time I rose the following morning, the sun was bright and stark again, promising the heat would be back. Noelle snored softly as I moved around her, taking a shower, dressing and going downstairs to tidy up the mess we’d made.
Our clothes were sopping heaps on my wooden floor, so I threw them in the wash and mopped the puddles up. Then I turned my attention to the table. Chairs askew, paperwork all over the floor. I couldn’t repress a grin at the memory.
But it froze on my face as I crouched to gather the papers together. The envelope I hadn’t touched all week had been on the table and the contents I’d been avoiding had spilled out. I pulled the bag towards me. The garish colours of birthday cards assaulted me. I collected them, counting the ages they were supposed to celebrate; 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…five years’ worth of birthday cards that Mum’d never given me.
Postcards of New York. The Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building. A yellow taxi cab. I turned them over, saw messy handwriting with the address of the house I’d grown up in. ‘Little Stevie’ ‘Thought you would like the picture.’ ‘Maybe one day I’ll take you here.’ ‘Hope you’re enjoying the summer.’
‘Love Daddy,’ on all.
I shook my head against it. No. He never could have loved me.
Was this anger it kindled in my chest the same Mum had felt? Was it why she never gave these things to me? Had it enraged her to see these token gestures sent to me, like it was enough to show he cared? To prove I wasn’t disposable. Or forgettable. Unloved by my own father.
Would it have been enough?
I shoved them back in the envelope. Grabbed the magazines about dinosaurs and He-Man. Things I’d left behind a long time ago.
I was shaking with a rage I hadn’t known for years. Not since I was a teenager and I hadn’t been able to put a lid on my emotions. I leaned down on the table, pressed my hands hard either side of the envelope. Why hadn’t all these feelings gone away?
A hand touched my back and I swung around.
Noelle flinched back at my sudden movement and I struggled to relax myself. She was wearing one of my T-shirts, looking sweet and rumpled and vulnerable.
‘Sorry,’ I managed. ‘You made me jump.’
‘I gathered.’ Her hand lowered slowly towards me again, like I was a wounded animal she was trying to pet. ‘Are you okay?’ Even when half asleep, her eyes were sharp and observant, falling to the envelope on the table. ‘Did you look through it?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ I brushed her hand away as gently as I could and grabbed the envelope. Not caring if I crushed the contents. In fact, the best place for them was the recycling. I didn’t need them anymore. I took them to the kitchen and crammed them in the recycling box and went about trying to make coffee as though everything was normal. Noelle was still watching me, her grey eyes wide and hair in disarray around her face.
As the coffee was percolating my heart pounded and I realised…my mum’s handwriting was on that envelope. I couldn’t throw the envelope away. I went back to the trash and pulled it out again, dumped the contents until I just had the Jiffy bag and flattened it on the counter, using my palm to flatten the creases out of the part where the address was written. The address that she’d known for a long time, at least up until I was eight. That was the highest age of the birthday cards I’d seen. She’d known where he was.
She’d lied to me. When I was little:
‘Where’s Daddy?’
‘I don’t know. But he left and he’s not coming back.’
And then when I was older:
‘Why did he leave?’
‘He didn’t love us properly. He only loves himself. But I love you, Stephen, with all my heart, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.’
Drops of water landed on the ink, blurring it, spreading it, washing another mark of her away.
Bollocks. Now I was crying. In front of Noelle.
‘What is it?’ she asked, circling her arms around my waist. ‘Tell me.’
‘I don’t want to—’ I broke off, my voice hoarse, and I scrubbed a tear off my cheek, but I didn’t pull away from her hold. It was too warm and comforting. ‘I don’t want to be angry with my mum, Noelle. But I don’t know what to do with it. I want to know why and she’s not here to ask.’
‘“Why” what?’
‘Why she made me think that he never got in contact again. I spent my whole life thinking he walked out and never looked back. But he did. What other lies have there been that I’ve believed for so long?’
She squeezed me tightly. ‘I’ll finish making the coffee and then we’ll sit down and talk it through. Uh-uh.’ She wagged her finger at me when I went to object. ‘No more avoiding. You’ve been bottling this up for too long. You need to get some of this off your chest. Dump a bit on me. I love hypothesising. It’s basically my job. We’ll see if it helps.’
We sat down together on the sofa, facing each other with big mugs of coffee and some toast. It felt normal, especially when Noelle started asking questions, the way she always did, worrying around the problem, trying to deduce a way into it. I didn’t feel like I was alone trying to figure it out anymore.
I told her what little I remembered about having my dad around, and that his disappearance was more of a memory than anything I could actually remember doing with him. Other than his motorcycle. But that could have simply been because one of the only photos I had was him standing with his motorcycle.
I told her how I remembered asking where he was, but I could see it made my mum sad, so I would stop asking. And then I would see other families, with their dads and ask again and she’d tell me she didn’t know where he’d gone but we were better
off without him.
I told her how when Mum and David got married I was happy because we would be a normal family again, but when Nick was born I couldn’t help but feel like the odd one out from their unit, even though David was never anything but a fantastic parent, who I believed loved me. Even though I loved Nick from the first moment I saw the annoying little git.
‘It sounds to me – and I’m just doing a pop psychology thing – but it sounds to me like you’re more like your mom than you think.’
I shook my head. ‘She was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, like Nick.’
‘Not in looks maybe. I mean, I’ve not even seen a photo of your mom, but I’ve met your father and it’s obvious looks-wise you’re very similar. But your mom raised you. And you suffered the losses together. I think maybe she was just trying to protect you from Trevor hurting you again. She wanted you to stop feeling for him, probably the same way she needed to, and so she didn’t want his birthday cards to give you hope. I mean, sending a postcard once or twice a year to your kid is not being a parent. She knew him for the irresponsible douchebag that he is. How many years did he send you cards for after he left: five, six?’
‘Looks like five.’
‘Right. So why did he stop? Life moved on for him.’ She took a deep breath and put her hand on my thigh, rubbing. ‘I hate to say it, but it was easier for him to move on, than to put in the effort to rebuild a relationship with you, wasn’t it? Otherwise, he would’ve done it. When you really love someone, you’ll do most anything to keep them in your life and know they’re okay, won’t you? She knew his form and just wanted to save your heart being broken again. You’d already lost him once. How many times would you have to go through it, if she gave you the birthday cards and then the next year he forgot? So, she lied. To protect you.’
‘That does make sense.’ I put my hand over hers, let my thumb trace the dips and ridges of her knuckles. ‘How does that make me like her though?’
‘You try to protect Nick all the time. That was why you lied at Christmas to try and split him and Beth up, wasn’t it? It’s why you’re trying to counsel him to slow down around proposing. You don’t want to see him get hurt.’
