And there he was.
In front of me again.
Smiling that smile.
Flashing those eyes.
Dragging me back to weakness all over again.
I couldn't let it happen.
The amount of swallowing I was doing was becoming a damn nervous tick as I walked behind the reception desk, dropped my bag to the floor and slipped into my chair. There was a chant playing over in my mind: Breathe, breathe, breathe. He's just a man. He's just a boy. He's nothing to you now.
Yet those butterflies laughed at my naivety as they roared and soared and crashed into one another. My heartbeat rolled its eyes and revved its engine, setting a sadistic pace that was only designed to remind me I was never in control.
That didn't stop me from trying to grab the steering wheel, though.
I slapped on a face of indifference as I pushed my hair out of my eyes and reached over to turn my computer on. Alex's feet trod slowly against the marble floor as he came closer, showing off their confidence with the rhythm of their cocky stride. His presence was still as powerful now as it had always been back then, maybe even more so.
I pretended not to notice him as he rested his forearms on the raised counter in front of me. I pretended not to smell that aftershave of his as it drifted under my nostrils like it had missed me as much as I had missed it and him.
“Are you going to speak to me?”
“I'm busy,” I replied abruptly.
“Too busy for an old friend?”
“Busy is busy.”
“It's good to see you, Nat.”
I picked up some files to fiddle with, files that meant nothing at all to me right there and then. I couldn't have told you what colour they were. I couldn't even have told you what country I was in. “Is it?”
“Yes. You look well.”
“Thanks.” My eyes darted around the desk as I tried to find something heavy to throw at him. A stapler. A hardback book. A brick! Something that would cause him pain like the poison he was pouring on me was causing me to hurt already.
“You look... really well, actually.”
“That's because I'm happy.” I smiled flatly as I began to flicker through the names on the manila folders in my hands.
“I see that.”
“Are you here to see Dr. Cleveland again?” I asked, desperately trying to divert the topic of conversation away from me, only I dropped the ball in my haste.
“Again?”
Shit.
I froze, the files still in my hands as I peeked up at him slowly. I wished I hadn't. The satisfaction and amusement on his face made my insides burn. I told myself it was anger.
Both versions of me knew it wasn't.
“You always were full of surprises.” He grinned.
“I don't know what you mean.”
“Yet you knew I was here last week?”
“No,” I lied.
Alex raised a brow as he leaned closer and waited for me to tell the truth. He'd be waiting a long damn time. I couldn't admit to him that he'd plagued most of my thoughts since that day last week. I couldn't even admit that to myself.
“You been checking up on me, Natalie Vincent?”
“And why would I want to do that?” I sighed softly, hoping he knew my question was rhetorical.
“You don't really want me to answer that, do you?”
“No. I want you to let me do my job.”
“Please, don't let me stop you.”
“Are you here to see Dr. Cleveland?” I repeated as I struggled to hold on to my composure.
“No. Would you prefer if that was who I had come here for?”
“For?” It was my turn to raise my brows that time. “For implies that you've come here to collect something – to pick it up and take it away with you. Seeing as how we don't offer a click and collect service on our website...” I paused, tilting my head to one side.
“You know what I meant. Although...” His voice drifted off and I watched as those eyes of his fell to my mouth. “Maybe it's a service you should start offering. I'd happily be your first customer.”
I couldn't breathe.
“We’re all out of stock.”
“Good God, I’ve missed you,” he admitted through a half-hearted laugh.
Hearing him react that way had my stomach curling in on itself as my mind pointed a warning finger at me and told me not to slip back into our old ways so easily.
“You should go,” I whispered, my voice laced with obvious pain all at once as my mask began to slip. “You should go, Alex. Now.”
“Go where?” His focus shifted back to my eyes, and his breathy whisper washed over me like it was a potion made to cast a spell.
“Anywhere. Anywhere away from me.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I'm just a receptionist. A receptionist who is trying to do her job and is of no use to anyone while I'm sat here talking to you. You can take a seat over there and I'll phone through to Dr. Clev–”
Alex's hands slid over the surface that separated us, and his small laugh cut through the air as he pushed himself back up to a full stand.
“I'm not here to see anyone but you. But you already know that, don't you?”
“Me?”
“You.”
“And what made you think I would want to see you?”
“I lived in hope.”
“It sounds like a nice place.”
“Natalie.”
“Please don't,” I warned him.
“Can't we talk? Like old friends do. I once knew you well.”
“Things change. People change,” I hit back, trying to hide the growl in my voice. I had no idea who I was more annoyed at, but I had a feeling, deep, deep down, that the majority of my anger was borne from my frustrations at not being able to handle seeing him as well as I wanted to.
“Some things never change,” he whispered.
“How did you even know where I worked?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
He rolled his eyes, keeping that smile on his face as he shook his head and bit back more laughter. “You've really no clue, have you? Even after all that happened, all I said.”
“Just answer the question.”
“I've always known where you've been.” He pushed his hands back into his pockets, letting all the tension fall from his body as he relaxed his shoulders. “I knew you were here last week, too. Somewhere.”
“How?” I shook my head in confusion.
“I still speak to Paul. Suzie tells him things. I ask the right stuff and he tells me everything I need to know,” he said softly.
“Why would you do that, Alex? Why do you even give a shit?”
“I'll always give a shit. Even when I'm lying in my grave.”
The surge of irrational anger was like a volcano that rumbled at my toes and erupted from my mouth.
“You had no right to check up on me,” I snapped back. “You have no right to be here.”
“I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I just hoped we could–”
“You're wasting your time. Believe me, we cannot be friends. Not now. Not ever.”
His face fell and our silence made the air thick as we stared at one another.
“So it's true then?” he eventually whispered. “You do hate me.”
I opened my mouth to say 'hell yes I do,' but not even all my years of pretence would allow me to tell that particular lie.
“I'm indifferent to you.” My voice broke. It was so small, and I had no idea how much of my response he'd actually heard.
“Indifferent?”
“I did what I had to do to survive.”
“You turned me into the bad guy.”
“No. I turned you into a guy who didn’t exist.”
“Ouch.”
“It's for the best.”
“Is it?”
“It’s what you always wanted.”
“I wish you could read me the way I’ve always been able to read
you,” he whispered.
I sighed that time, feeling exhausted before the day had even really begun. The files fell against my desk with a thud, and I looked down at the grains in the wood for some kind of escape.
There were so many questions burning me from inside out – so many conflicting emotions. All the things I wanted to say didn't matter and all the things that did matter, I didn't dare speak. He had a hook in my mouth and I was struggling to break free.
I must have looked as lost as I felt, because before I could say anything in response, he'd pulled something out of his back pocket and was currently sliding it on the counter towards me with two fingers. I stared up at the small white slip of paper with complete emptiness.
“This is my number. I don't expect you to keep it, so don't feel bad about burning it after I've gone.” His voice had dropped all its humour, and that tone he was using was one of my all-time favourites. It was the one that seemed calm on the surface, but if you listened, really listened, you could hear the dusting of uncertainty that coated it. It made him seem vulnerable, and I'd never loved Alex more than when he was being real.
“What are you doing back here, Alex?” I asked, slowly lifting my eyes to meet his.
“I'm coming home,” he said calmly. He rubbed his lips together before he sucked in a breath and began to turn away, but not before he glanced back over his shoulder one last time and looked me in the eye. “I meant what I said, too. You look well... And I'm really glad you're happy now, Natalie. Believe it or not, that's all I've ever wanted.”
Then, just as quickly as he'd slammed back into my life, he spun around and waltzed right back out again.
And that time hurt almost as much as the first.
Barbara arrived at work sometime later, only to find me behind the reception area, gasping for air. I wasted no time in telling her everything that had happened and she became my shoulder to cry on once more.
It took me three hours after that to find the courage to throw the slip of paper with his number on it in the bin.
It took Barbara three hours more to admit to me that she'd taken it right back out again and was keeping it locked up in her drawer.
Apparently it wasn't a good idea to make decisions when you were angry or upset.
I didn't have the energy to tell her it was my anger that I was relying on to get me through this. I needed it.
Otherwise, Alex was going to kill me.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“How’s the chicken?”
“It’s good.” I nodded slowly, my fork pressed against the food in front of me as my mind drifted back to two days ago, at work with Alex.
“Nat?”
“Yeah.” My eyes rose up to meet Marcus’, and when I saw his warm face staring back at me, I instantly felt guilty for not giving him my full attention.
“You aren’t even eating chicken. It’s pork.”
I glanced down quickly to see if he was right, and as always, he was. We were sitting at our usual table in our favourite restaurant in the middle of Leeds city centre. It was the same place we ate at once a month – a kind of celebration of our relationship, and a reminder of where Marcus brought me one drunken night to woo me. It worked, so now this place was his lucky charm spot.
It was our midweek date night, yet I was mentally somewhere else.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, shaking my head as I looked back up at him through dazed eyes.
“Bad day at the office?”
“Something like that.” I smiled softly.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Yes. Yes, I did want to talk about it, only I couldn’t. All the people I would usually go to were no longer an option. I couldn’t tell Marcus. Not because I believed he would have had an issue with me for it, but more due to the fact that I didn’t want him to see even a hint of longing on my face when I told him Alex was back in town. The same applied to Sammy. How could I talk to her about what I was feeling? I was dating her brother now. His happiness was paramount to her, as it should be. Suzie was out of the question. The two of us were still close, but by some miracle, she and Paul had survived the testing university years and were now off living life to the full. They were having fun. I didn’t want to spoil that for them. I also didn’t want to give Paul any insight into how I felt when I saw Alex. Not after being told he was drip-feeding information to the other side. Danni had landed a modelling contract with some hippy agency in London, and she was now off travelling the delights of Europe and would only have told me to pull myself together, anyway. And my parents… No. I couldn’t do it to them all over again.
“It’s just work stuff, Marcus. Don’t worry about it.”
“I do worry. You know I hate it when you go into yourself like this. You’re here but you’re not. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“The heebie-jeebies?” I smirked, trying to turn the conversation as playful as it should have been.
“Yeah. It’s a similar freak out to the feeling I have when I see your hairy toes.”
“Hey!” I gasped, reaching over for a prawn cracker and aiming it straight at his head. Marcus caught it quickly and began to chuckle before he bit down on it and gobbled it up. “I do not have hairy toes.”
“There she is. My feisty girl woke up.”
There was something ridiculously flattering about being called his girl. Even tonight, after just another busy day at work with his collar undone and his hair a floppy mess, it was impossible to miss the attention he was getting from other women. I could feel the sly glances from the other tables, and yet, it didn’t bother me one bit. It didn’t bother me because Marcus had no fear of showing the world he was taken by me.
I was his girl.
“I shouldn’t like you as much as I do,” I told him quietly.
“I thought you loved me.”
I shrugged a shoulder and flashed him a grin. “Meh.”
“So are you going to tell me what’s on that little mind of yours or am I going to have to take you home and fuck it out of you?”
I took a deep breath at his offer and pressed a hand to the bottom of my stomach. With just a few jovial words, he’d made my anxiety flip to arousal, and I couldn’t have adored him more for it. There was no way I could lie to him, I realised. I respected him too much for that. I just had to figure out a way to make myself look and sound less guilty than I felt – and whether my guilt was misplaced or not, it was there and it was powerful.
Pushing some rice into my mouth to buy myself some time, I began to chew before I plucked up the courage to speak. “It’s nothing serious. A blast from the past just happened to walk through the doors last week, that’s all.”
“Oh yeah?” His eyes went wider, the genuine interest in my troubles enough to squeeze my heart as I watched him tuck into his Chow Mein.
“Mmmhmm.”
“Anyone I know?”
“It was Mr. Law.”
“Who?” he asked, scrunching up his face.
My lips rubbed together nervously as I watched him. He was so innocent sometimes. I envied his lack of worry. “Mr. Law. Nicholas Law.”
“I know that name. Why do I know that name?”
“It’s Alex’s father, Marcus.”
There was a slight pause as his fork travelled to his mouth, but just as quickly as he stumbled, he straightened himself back up and carried on regardless.
“I see,” he said through a mouth full of food. “How did that make you feel? I know that guy was an arsehole to you.”
“Fortunately, he didn’t see me. Barbara dealt with him. I was in the back room making coffee.”
“Still. You must have felt something.”
“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. I don’t know how I felt about it.”
Marcus dropped his cutlery again and reached across for his bottle of beer. He didn’t take his eyes away from mine as he took a slow sip, though, and I couldn’t get a read on his thoughts.
/> “I mean,” I carried on nervously, “I guess a part of me always knew he’d either end up in therapy or end up dead too soon, you know? I just never expected it to land on my doorstep. Not after they all left.”
“Who is he seeing?”
“Cleveland.”
“Wow. He must be bad.”
“Apparently he’s doing a favour for someone from another centre. I don’t know the whole story.”
“Do you know who he’s doing the favour for?”
“No,” I admitted weakly, the thought plaguing me as it had been doing since the first day I realised what was going on.
“Was he alone?”
My heart dropped into my stomach as the one question I so desperately wanted to avoid came up, but I shook my head and mumbled a weak “no,” anyway.
“Damn,” Marcus mouthed, dropping his beer back down on the table and taking a moment to stare at his food.
I hated the look on his face, and I hated that I was the one causing it, but when I opened my mouth to reassure him Alex wasn’t going to be a problem, he cut me off completely.
“I guess some people just don’t know when to walk away from something so destructive.”
“Marcus, I–”
“But I also guess it makes sense that she’d be there with him. She put up with it for years. She wasn’t going to just stop when she got so far, you know? Poor woman. I bet he’s had to be dragged to therapy kicking and screaming.”
She? I frowned in confusion, unable to take my eyes away from him as he casually picked up his cutlery and began to eat again without a care in the world.
“I hate how that woman spoke to you that night, though. God, I’ll never forget how upset you were when you climbed back into that cab. It can’t have been easy seeing either of them at the centre. What did you say his poor cow of a wife was called?” he mumbled.
“Umm,” I croaked, clearing my throat quickly to correct myself. “Beatrice.”
Shrugging, he shook his head as though completely bewildered and peeked up at me with a cheeky grin on his face.
“Sounds to me like you had a lucky escape. Good job you know the only thing I’ll ever be addicted to is screwing you on my sofa after a night of watching Netflix.”
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