Never Again

by Lilliana Anderson

  “I don’t know.” I sighed, thinking about all the years I spent thinking Jack loved me. All that got me was a bag of trust issues and a battered ego. “Why aren’t I enough?” I sobbed, my tears forcing their way to the surface again.

  “Oh honey, you are enough. You’re more than any man on this planet deserves. I tell you what, if he doesn’t come to his senses soon, I’ll get Paul to head over and rough him up. He knows taekwondo. You can do that, can’t you, babe?” The last part was obviously directed at Paul.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his voice quiet in the background. “That guy she’s with is pretty big, and taekwondo is more a sport than a fighting style—”

  “You’ll be fine,” Olivia assured him. “He’ll do it,” she directed at me.

  Sitting up, I brushed the crumbs off my chest and chuckled. I could always count on Olivia to pull me out of a funk.

  “That won’t be necessary. But thank you, Liv. You always make me feel better.”

  “Right back at you, gorgeous. Rest well.”

  “OK. Tell Paul he’s off the hook and doesn’t have to fight Bran.”

  “Nah, I’ll let him sweat. See you tomorrow?”

  “Maybe. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  With that, I disconnected the line and collected my things, feeling a little drunker upon standing than I’d thought I was sitting down. Taking a few unsteady steps, I found my footing and headed for the elevator bay, a great sigh escaping from my chest. The last several months had been emotionally tough. I lost my husband, my career trajectory, my house, and now it felt like I’d lost my heart too.

  Lying in bed, despite my exhaustion, I struggled to find sleep. For a good half hour, I also struggled with the idea of calling Bran. I wanted to hear his voice, wanted to whisper sweet words into his ear and convince him to come back to me. But it wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t nag him into being mine. He needed to make that choice for himself.

  With a sigh, I opened our text conversation and scrolled through it, pausing on the photos we’d sent to each other. God, I wanted him. And I needed him even more than that.

  Before I could stop myself, my thumbs were moving over the touchpad.

  Me: loving you is also like water

  I hit send then watched until the screen said delivered. It clicked to read almost immediately. Then the dots started bouncing, causing my heart to bounce into my throat with it.

  Bran: ???

  Me: Because you’re a huge part of me, and I don’t know how I ever lived without you

  The dots bounced then stopped, bounced then stopped. Until finally, they bounced and a message turned up on my screen.

  Bran: For the record, I don’t think you’re like my mother

  Me: Good. Because that would be weird

  Bran: lol. It would…

  Bran: Goodnight, Cora

  I was being dismissed. I wanted to keep texting him, wanted to keep the lines of communication open just a little longer, but clearly he didn’t. That stung a little.

  Me: Goodnight xx

  I watched the screen until it clicked to read, then I shut off my phone and held it against my chest, holding him close to my impossibly hopeful heart as I drifted into a fitful sleep.

  “I want to thank you for what you did for Brandon yesterday.” Adrian stepped into my office not long after I sat down behind my desk. “Looks like your words of…encouragement made an impression on Jack’s motives.” A smile teased the corners of his mouth. It amused me to see my boss fighting a smile. He wasn’t the most jovial character I’d ever met, forever the serious and important head of a government agency.

  “I only wish I’d used that line against him sooner. Might have saved my career from the shit pile it’s currently sitting on.”

  Smiling at my colourful language, he reached up and adjusted his tie, clearing his throat before he spoke again. “I actually wanted to speak to you about that. How do you feel about returning to your old position? With the intervention order gone, I can pull some strings to get you into the barrister’s course for the next intake. From what I hear, we’ll be a barrister short in the next few months.”

  “What about my reputation? Isn’t it damaged right now? Would I even get past the initial bar interview?”

  “You let me worry about that. You really saved the day yesterday, and it’s the least I can do to show my appreciation. However, I also think that this might go a long way to mitigating the damage Jack’s article caused.” He pulled a folded piece of newspaper from his jacket and handed it to me.

  The headline read “COURT REPORTER FIRED AMIDST DEFAMATION ALLEGATIONS”

  “What is this?” I asked, eagerly reading the article clipped from today’s paper.

  “Well, I got thinking after you left my office yesterday. Having been in a similar situation myself, I know what it’s like when you realise everyone knew about your partner’s infidelities but you. So I contacted a woman at the paper I know and trust. Turns out, he’d pursued her last year, but she’d had no qualms in turning him down. She’d known he was married, and is more than happy to colour Jack for the philandering scumbag he is.”

  I grinned, hugging the article to my chest. “I want to frame this. I never thought someone else’s demise would make me this happy, but it does. I don’t even need a Christmas bonus this year. This is better than cash.”

  Adrian chuckled. “I’ll remember that.”

  “No. Don’t . I like cash too.” I smiled. So did he, but he added a nod, and for a moment we just existed in a semi-uncomfortable silence. This was all a little weird. Adrian and I didn’t often chat.

  He took a breath then gestured to the article. “If he gives you any more trouble, let me know. Any person important to Brandon is important to me too.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling a little sad despite the sentiment. It was strange to hear those words come out of his mouth. Not only had I been under the impression that there was animosity between Adrian and Bran, but I also wasn’t sure if I was still that important someone to Bran.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, noting my shift in demeanour.

  “I hope so,” I said on an exhale. “Time will tell, I suppose. But if I may, sir, can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “I was under the impression that you and Bran weren’t on good terms.”

  He nodded once, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I see. Well, our relationship is…complicated. But he’ll always be my son, despite anything he may have told you.” When he spoke the words, he kept his eyes level with mine, showing his sincerity.

  “You might want to let him know that,” I suggested, my voice quiet even though I was trying to be bold.

  With a thoughtful nod, he stepped toward the door, perhaps needing this awkward exchange to be over. “Thank you, Cora,” he said. Then he left, leaving me alone, feeling hollow, while my heart missed Bran a little more with every beat.

  37

  Work dragged at a snail’s pace, although the moment it ended, I wished there was more for me to do. The idea of going home to an empty apartment felt so much worse. There was nothing but memories there. If the worst-case scenario presented itself and Bran walked away from our relationship, I took small solace in the fact I could start barrister’s training soon, knowing that the study for the bar exam alone would take up so much time I’d be too busy to mope. Still, the idea of that didn’t seem anywhere near as appealing as it would have six months ago.

  After parting ways with Olivia at her apartment building, I declined staying at hers for dinner—seeing her happily arguing with Paul would have been a little too much for my aching heart to witness—then dragged my feet along the concrete until I reached the steps of my building. I released an annoyed sigh upon seeing that someone had left the security door propped open using a rock from the outside garden. With a shake of my head, I picked up the piece of marbled stone and threw it back where it belonged. How could someone be so carele
ss? Absolutely anyone could walk into the building that way. What was the point in having security access if people were going to use a rock to circumvent it?

  When the lift opened on my floor, I poked my head out to make sure no random strangers were loitering in the hallway preparing to accost unsuspecting women. Seeing the coast was clear, I dug in my bag for my keys then headed toward my apartment. The scent of Indian food tickled at my nostrils, making my stomach growl. I realised that I’d barely eaten a thing all day. That’s how I knew I was lovesick for Bran. There wasn’t a single food group that seemed appealing at lunchtime today. I was going to lose my curves.

  When I rounded the corner, the scent became stronger and the moment I spotted my door, I stopped in my tracks.

  “What are you doing here?” I gasped, staring at Bran as if he might be an apparition that my hopeful mind had conjured up. He was standing against my door wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with the sleeves pushed up, a bag of food dangling from his fingers—just like that first night.

  “Thought you might be hungry,” he said, smiling slightly. “Then perhaps, we could finish that talk?”

  Taking a deep breath, I nodded my head and readied my keys to unlock the door. Except my hands were shaking so much that I struggled to get it in the slot. “I’m sorry,” I whispered when his big hand covered mine and he took over.

  “Don’t be,” he replied. “There’s nothing left to apologise for.”

  When he pushed open the door, I looked up at him. “Do you really mean that?”

  He nodded. “Let’s go inside.”

  With my heart beating so fast I could hear it in my ears, I dropped my bag on the floor next to the couch then followed Bran to the kitchen where he was taking bowls from the cabinet.

  “I missed you so much these past couple of days,” I started, knowing it seemed stupid because it was only a short time. But I needed to say it because two days’ worth of fighting felt like an eternity when you were afraid of losing someone.

  “Me too,” he said, carrying everything to my small table. “Eat,” he instructed, holding out my chair. We sat and ate in silence, stealing glances at each other that were filled with the many difficult words we weren’t saying. I wanted to smile and relax because he was back, and I felt sure he was going to stay. But still, I feared that the moment we started talking, we’d also start fighting again.

  “Come here,” he said when we’d finished and he’d pushed his bowl to the side. I did as instructed and he turned in his chair to face me as I came around the table. His eyes flashed with a confused passion as they moved over my body. I reached out and placed a timid hand against his broad shoulder, my whole body sighing at the contact. We belonged together.

  “Shit,” he grunted, his arms shooting out and wrapping around my waist as he pulled me against him, his face buried against my stomach. “I don’t know how to do this.” The words were muffled, but I could feel him moving, his mouth pressing kisses against my stomach through my blouse as he rocked his face against me. Keeping one hand around my waist, he moved the other one down over my skirt, gripping the curve between my arse and thigh.

  “Don’t know how to do what?” I whispered.

  “How to be OK with the fact you’re still married. I’ve spent my whole life angry at my mother for cheating, and I know this isn’t the same thing, but it still feels messed up in my head. I mean, why did she do it? Why couldn’t she just stay faithful, or at the very least be somewhat caring towards her only son?” He shook his head, thinking. “I don’t think you’re like her. I’m just…I’m angry, and I’m triggered.”

  “I’m angry too, Bran. I can’t even begin to guess at your mother’s motives—I don’t even understand Jack’s motives for chasing after so many women behind my back. I can only imagine that they do it because they’re selfish, and perhaps they’re looking for something they aren’t getting in their own relationships, or maybe they’re just unhappy with themselves and somehow masking it all with sex. I don’t know. I’ll never know because that’s not how I think. The only thing I do know is that when I met you, my relationship was over. I’m a one-man woman. And I know it was a mistake to not explain those circumstances to you sooner.”

  He lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes shining. “I’m angry with you for hiding what you did.”

  “I know. There’s no excuse. I should have told you.” We were talking in whispers, afraid the sound might break this fragile shell holding us together.

  “The idea of not having you makes me lose my mind.”

  “You have me. You’ve had me from the moment you spoke to me at that bar. I’m yours.”

  His eyes searched mine, looking for the truth in my words. Then his hands tightened against my arse and he pulled me even closer, inhaling my scent. “God. I want to believe that so much.”

  I pressed my lips together, my brow knitting as I shifted my hands to his cheeks and urged him to look at me.

  “It’s the truth, Bran.” I stared at him for a long time, filling my eyes with all the sincerity I had inside me, trying to get him to understand that he was the only man who mattered. In his, I could see how vulnerable he was, how afraid he was of the pain I could potentially cause him. For a man like Bran, staying was hard. He’d spent his life being pushed away from his problems, and had never been taught how to stay. How to resolve things. His decision to show up here tonight was monumental to me.

  “I don’t know what to do.” His eyes widened. He was looking to me for answers. I knew what I wanted. I wanted him to stay and be mine. But I couldn’t force that. He needed to make that choice on his own.

  “Do whatever you feel is right in here.” I put my hand against his chest, over his heart, the solid thump of his body’s life hitting against my hand. “Why did you come here tonight?”

  He covered my hand with his then closed his eyes. “Because I can’t stop feeling like this. I have this urge to run but then my feet won’t point in any direction but towards you.”

  “Doesn’t that tell you something?”’

  Releasing me, he let out his breath and sat back in his chair, raking his hand across his face. “You know, I tried to go. I packed my things, checked out of the hotel. I even booked a flight to Sydney.”

  “You were going to leave me?” The idea of it socked me in the stomach like a balled-up fist.

  He shook his head. “Tried. I thought…I don’t know. Maybe it would have been for the best. Give you the time to get your life sorted out while I finished uni. When I’m twenty-one my trust fund opens up, and I don’t have to answer to my father anymore. I thought that maybe some time apart would put all this in perspective. Maybe we’d forget about each other; maybe our feelings would grow and this mess could be behind us. We could start fresh.”

  “You really thought going to Sydney would help?” I asked, shocked that the idea was still on the table.

  “No. I booked the shuttle to take me to the airport, and when it arrived, I couldn’t leave. I took my stuff back into the hotel, then came here instead.”

  Relief undid the knot in my stomach. I reached out for the edge of the table, leaning against it to steady myself. “Jesus,” I gasped, my hand pressing against my chest. Bran reached out and took a hold of it, rising so he stood in front of me.

  “I don’t think I can exist without you.”

  “You think I could without you?” My voice shook, my eyes on the verge of overflowing.

  He swallowed hard then shook his head. “No,” he whispered.

  “Then you’re staying?” I asked, my chest hurting as I awaited his answer. I had to hear him say it to be sure.

  “Jesus, Cora, of course I’m staying. I fucking love you.”

  “Oh, Bran.” He caught me as I threw myself against him, absolute relief flooding my system. “I love you too. So much. Please don’t ever even think of leaving me again. I couldn’t stand it.”

  With a dimpled smile, he pulled back slightly, his hand
s sliding into the side of my hair. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. My home is right here, with you. Just…no more hiding things, OK?”

  Nodding, I pushed softly against his chest. “Same goes for you.”

  “Agreed.”

  “God, you just scared the absolute shit out of me with all that Sydney talk.”

  He grinned. “Then let me make it up to you.” He brushed the tip of his nose against mine, his hands cradling my head as he teased me by briefly touching his mouth against my lips then pulling back to smile. “I love you,” he whispered, the words washing over my skin like floating feathers. I basked in the feeling, closing my eyes. Then his mouth captured mine, soft at first then with increased fervour as his hand slid to the nape of my neck, fingers gently soothing as I melted against him, starved from the lack of recent contact. As I fisted his shirt and pulled him closer, his hands dropped to my hips and his fingers bit into my skin.

  When he lifted me and carried me to the bedroom, my world felt right again. I had no doubt in my mind that it was in his arms I belonged. I was his, he was mine, and I would never let go. Never Again.

  Epilogue

  One year later…

  “I’d like you all to raise your glass,” Olivia said from her position on the stage. It had been months since she’d commanded a room, having opted to take twelve months’ maternity leave to tackle motherhood instead of her never-ending caseload at the OPP. She was settling into it well, falling head-over-heels for the tiny bundle of pink skin and dark curls she gave birth to only seven months ago; a little girl they named Monique. Paul had proven to be an amazing father, always willing to do his share of changing, bathing and feeding. It had been a slow process, but Olivia had opened her heart and her home to another man—their wedding was in the process of being organised for next spring. I had no idea if it would stick this time, but for now, she was swearing the third time was the charm.

  “We’ve all come together tonight to wish one very special lady a happy third twenty-ninth birthday,” she continued when she had everyone’s attention.