“Paige. Don’t do this. I just found you again,” he pleads, and I take another step away.
“You didn’t find me. The girl you knew is so lost she’ll never be found. You and I, we can’t happen. It’s impossible now.”
I turn and head towards the station, leaving the only man I’ve truly had real feelings for behind. As I ride the train home, I’m filled with nothing but regret. That day with Matthew is probably the one piece of light amongst it all, but I still regret it. I regret everything. But that’s been my life so far, one giant ball filled with thousands of regrets.
Forty-Seven
Twenty-six. The numbers glow in the centre of the birthday cake my coworkers present me with. In my mind, that number is huge. I used to think that I wouldn’t make it through the night. So to be alive is an accomplishment in itself.
“Make a wish,” my boss says.
I close my eyes and think about a new life. Then I blow.
After seeing Matthew again, I decided it was time to find another job. I wanted a life without any reminders of who I used to be, I needed to put my old life behind me. But that isn’t possible, when you’ve been around as much as I have, there’s always someone who’ll remember you. Every job I got, eventually someone came in who remembered me. I denied it every time. I acted like they were wrong, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But we both knew I was lying.
“I’m upset this is goodbye, too,” my friend, Lizzie says. She gives me a hug, and all I can smell is the sweet icing from the cake.
“The UK awaits,” I say with a smile.
“Are you excited?”
“Yeah. I’ve been saving forever.”
“I’m so jealous,” another coworker says. “I wish I was relocating to London.”
“I have dual citizenship, so it’s a little easier for me,” I explain. It’s something I learned recently after tracking down my birth father. I’ve decided I need to know who he is, and why he never claimed me. It’ll be the last step in my healing process, and for the first time in forever, I’m excited.
Using the address on my birth certificate, I searched Facebook for every Daniel Ashdown in that area and contacted them, asking them if they knew my mother. Finally one replied, knowing he was my father, and everything is moving forward from there. He’s agreed to meet me. I don’t know what meeting him will do, exactly. But I feel like I have to go and close that door once and for all.
I’ve been frugal since starting to work. I’ve spent only what I needed to over the years, afraid of my life blowing up again and having nothing to fall back on. I’ve saved a lot and can afford to go to the UK for a few months without working. Although I think I’ll get a job as soon as possible. With my funds limited, I don’t want to risk running my money down too low and being unable to find something.
I spend my evenings online, pouring over information about the UK. I search the area where my father lives, and where I think I might like to stay. The idea of having a new start in life and leaving every person who ever knew me before is glorious to me.
For the first time in years, I’m actually smiling.
Forty-Eight
The first day of the rest of my life
My life in Australia has been packed up and either stored or given away. I don’t need it anymore.
On the other side of the world is a new life. It’s there waiting for me. No more looking over my shoulder. No more seeing places that remind me of what I’ve done, or who I was. It’s all going to be new.
With a duffel bag I purchased from the camping store filled with the basics. I set off to the airport. As the cab approaches the international departure building at Sydney Airport, butterflies dance excitedly through my entire body.
I check my bag and get my boarding pass. Then go and sit in the waiting area near my departure gate while I listen to my music and leaf through a fashion magazine. Glancing up occasionally, I watch as other passengers take the seats around me. I smile to myself as a striking man sits not far away from me—pure blue eyes, full mouth, light golden-brown hair and broad shoulders—he actually looks as though he should be pictured in this magazine with a tall skinny girl draped over him and pouting. He’s too beautiful and seems at odds with the normal looking people around him. He’s exactly the kind of guy I would have taken home in the old days. A gorgeous fuck, that’s all they were good for.
Smiling to myself as I flick the page, I enjoy the feeling of leaving that all in the past. I’m so different now. Some would call me a grownup, but I prefer to say I’m recovered. I’m living.
Around forty minutes later, a voice comes over the loud speaker, to say our flight is boarding. People around me begin to collect their things and line up, as their seat numbers are called.
I’m nervous and keep looking at my ticket, scared I might forget my seat number and miss my call. I’ve never flown before, so this is all very new to me.
Finally the woman’s voice says the group of numbers that features my own, and I move quickly to get on board. I’m desperate to start this journey. This journey means everything to me.
As I take my seat on the plane, I struggle to keep the grin off my face. Surreptitiously, I slide my hand into the back of my shirt and touch my tattoo. Proud I’m getting out and feeling as though, finally, my old life won’t touch me or her memory ever again.
Forty-Nine
Five hours into my flight and my optimism is starting to fail me. I’ve been sat next a rather large woman who has a penchant for mind numbing conversation. She’s now told me her entire family history and has started to ask me about mine.
Of course, I’m not going to share my history with her. Instead, I tell her the modified version I’ve been using lately.
“My family are all dead,” I reply after doing my best to avoid her questions for nearly twenty minutes. I get that she’s just trying to make conversation to pass the time. But the flight from Sydney to Heathrow Airport is almost a day in length. I don’t have it in me to talk to her for that long.
“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that,” she stammers out, now not sure what to say. She looks at me, her mouth moving up and down like she's a goldfish caught out of water. Her jowly cheeks wobble, and her eyes are darting nervously around as she searches for something else to say.
“It’s fine. I just don’t like to talk about it,” I tell her, looking out the window at the passing clouds. After years of saying they kicked me out, I’ve stopped. I’ve taken to telling people they all died in an accident. It’s easier that way. People ask too many questions when you tell them you were evicted from your own family. Besides, it doesn’t make me sound so great. I’m the one who was cast out. The one no one loved enough to fight for, someone who’s too much trouble to put up with. It’s better if I say they’re dead, it makes me lucky to be the one who’s still alive. Better still, it stops the questions.
Staring out the window, I watch the clouds roll by below us, like a fluffy white and grey blanket I so desperately want to touch. The woman turns her attention to the guy sitting on the other side of her—the hot guy from the gate lounge—and starts to ask him questions about his life instead. I've made her uncomfortable. I’ve probably made everyone within earshot uncomfortable.
Pressing the buds of my headphones inside my ears, I scroll through my music and select an album. I’m really into 90’s alternative music right now so I choose Custard’s Wahooti Fandango. ‘Teensville’ starts floating into my ears as I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. I keep the sound at a level that is just enough to mask the sounds of the plane but quiet enough to lull me off to sleep.
In my dream, there’s a bear growling outside. I’m aware it’s a dream because Australia doesn’t have bears in the wild, so it confuses me to hear one. My consciousness moves forward as the rumbling sounds vibrate through me. It’s the sounds of the plane and…. snoring? My eyes flutter open and I remove the buds from my ears, the album I was listening to long since over, and turn m
y head toward the exasperating noise.
The woman who was talking to me earlier has her head tilted back, her mouth wide open, the noise is emanating from her throat. I squint at her, willing her with my mind to stir enough so the noise will stop. When she starts making a small choking sound, I flinch, surprised and slightly impressed with my new mind control ability as she quiets and her breathing evens out.
I breathe out slowly, glad the noise is over, and move to replace the buds in my ears. But I’m paused, my reprieve all too brief, as my skull starts vibrating when she starts up again. So much for my awesome mind control skills…
I cross my eyes in agitation and reach my hand toward her, clamping my fingers on either side of her nose. She makes a guttural sound, and I withdraw my hand quickly, looking out the window and pretending nothing happened. I start counting the seconds as I wait to see if it worked, feeling safe when I reach a full minute in silence.
“Thank god,” I say to myself as I lean my head back against the window. The second I begin to relax however, she starts up again.
The guy on the other side of her starts laughing. I lean forward to look at him, the ‘gorgeous fuck’. He’s laughing so hard, that I find myself smiling without even meaning to.
He's quite frankly, the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on—even more beautiful than Matthew. But he looks almost too large to be in such a small seat. His long legs are angled so that one is in the aisle, and the other is wedged in the minute gap between the seats in front of him. His broad shoulders span further than the width of the seat. And not that it matters, but his golden brown hair is a little longer than I like on guy, but it kind of suits him. He’s wearing a good day or two worth of stubble, which I’ll admit is a bit on the sexy side. And up this close, it’s his eyes that are most striking. They look like someone took the clearest, bluest part of the ocean and dropped it into his irises.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not laughing at you. I've been trying to make her stop snoring for ages. I’m laughing at the situation.”
He’s smiling at me. His smile is textbook perfect and creases the corners of his eyes as they water a little from his laughter. It’s a killer smile. If I hadn’t sworn myself off men years ago, I think I’d go all fluttery over him. But I don’t.
Instead, I decide to get up and go for a walk to stretch my legs. He gets up to let me out and makes some comment about my shirt that I ignore. He even holds his hand out to steady me as I climb over the large woman who is seated between us.
I don’t take it. I just look at it. He’s trying to be nice. I know that. But I can’t let men be nice to me. Not when I’ve come so far. Not when I know that I can do this on my own.
As I walk towards the back of the plane I feel his eyes on me. It makes my skin prickle with an attraction I don’t want to feel. I pull at my shirt to make sure all my skin is covered.
Covertly, I glance over my shoulder at the gorgeous fuck who’s still standing in the aisle. He leans forward and rubs the back of his neck with a strong lean arm. He seems the epitome of the perfect man: strong, healthy, and based upon my short interaction with him, he’s been brought up well.
I walk until I reach the back of the plane where there's a little alcove with a window. I'm so tired that I rest my forehead against the glass and look out at the nothingness that is the night sky.
“Hey there,” a deep rumble of a voice says from behind me, I tilt my head to the side, still pressed up against the glass. It’s the guy from my row. Of course it is.
Sighing, I turn and face him, not saying anything. I just look at him and wait for him to speak. He obviously wants to have a conversation, and I'm doing my best to seem uninterested. I want to get this done and over, as quickly as possible.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he says, putting his hands in his jeans pockets, suddenly looking unsure of himself. “I needed to get away from the noise too.” The corner of his lip turns up as he studies me. I notice his eyes scan the length of my body and automatically fold my arms across my middle protectively, feeling betrayed by my body as it flashes hot under his gaze.
“Why would I mind?” I ask him flatly. “It’s not like I own the plane.”
He gives me what I think might be his most dashing smile, but he still looks unsure of me. “I’m Elliot by the way,” he says, extending his hand to shake mine.
My eyes travel down to his outstretched arm. I don’t want to take it. When I look up at his expectant face, his eyes narrow slightly, but he keeps his hand stretched towards me stubbornly.
“I won’t bite,” he assures me, wiggling his fingers. I’m not so sure about that.
Giving in, I reach out and take his hand. “Paige.” I nod, trying to keep my cool. Although, I have to suppress a gasp as our palms connect. It’s as if his life force just travelled up my arm and mingled with mine. I snatch my hand back quickly, hiding it behind my back, as I try to ignore the tingle his hand has left there. No, no. Not again.
A slight longing throbs inside of me. The one that wishes for the life I could have had instead of the one I got. But I squash it down as quickly as it surfaces. I can’t allow myself to seek comfort in the arms of another person again. It’s caused me nothing but pain and rejection.
From the moment my mother stopped holding me as a child, I’ve longed to be held. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this yearning inside me for comfort, for caring. For someone who gave a damn. That longing has caused me to make colossal errors in my life. I’ve fallen into situations that a stronger person would have refused to be a part of, all because I was searching for comfort, searching for love. For acceptance.
But I didn’t find it then, and I never will. Because I need to find comfort within myself. For the rest of my life, my beautiful Phoenix will wraps her wings around my body and hold me tightly until my world ends and I can finally meet her spirit. She was perfect. She was innocent. I hate that I’m here and she’s not. Because I can’t live anymore. I can exist. I can survive. But I can’t live, and I can’t feel, not in the way a man like Elliot would make me. I can’t get caught up in that again.
I turn my attention away from Elliot, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. I don’t want to feel attracted to him for another moment. When I was young, I had dreams. Dreams about happily ever afters and a life filled with love. Now, I have nightmares, my dreams long dead and buried. People like me, we don’t get happily ever afters. We’re lucky enough just to be alive.
Next in the Beautiful Series - Melody
"He's not into you."
It's the story of my life. Every time I find I guy who's perfect for me, it turns out he prefers my friend instead. They go off and get married. And I'm left smiling through gritted teeth, swearing I'm happy for them. I just have to accept that I'm destined to be perpetually single. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride...
With everyone around me settling down and popping out kids, it's time to focus on my one true love: music. The last time I was truly happy was when I was blending my classical violin training with modern music methods. I need to get back to that. Pronto.
Although, returning to my roots means facing old acquaintances. Namely brothers, Theo and Marcus Bailey. I have...history with them.
Marcus has the reputation of a playboy and knows me intimately, and Theo, well... he just plain hates me. But, when I get the chance to join their already successful band, it's an opportunity too good to pass up. I'll have to swallow my pride for the sake of my career. I'll also have to keep my distance from the Bailey brothers for the sake of the band. Because once I'm back in their lives, I find something in each of them I can't ignore (the fact they're both rock stars and ridiculously hot might have something to do with it.)
I must resist. Because you should never mix business with pleasure. Especially when that pleasure could divide families...
Naomi enters the love triangle of the century when she falls for brothers she can't have. She'll be forced to choose love o
r fame in Melody: Beautiful Series, three. Containing new and extended scenes from previously published books A Beautiful Melody and Commitment in one breathtaking novel.
Also by Lilliana Anderson
Cartwright Brothers
Fool Me Twice
Fools Rush In
Foolish Games
Fool’s Errand
Fool’s Paradise
47 Things
47 Things
One More Thing
Standalones
In the Wind
Till There Was You
Never Again
Darcy Comes First (Love is a Beach)
Drawn Series
Drawn
Drawn 2 – Obsession
Drawn 2 – Redemption
Drawn to Fight
Zac & Evie
Hugo & Meg
Beautiful Series
Struggle
Forever
Melody
Rock
Star
Taste
Danger
Destination
Entwined Series
Our Hearts Entwined
Our Lives Entwined
The Confidante Trilogy
Confidante: The Brothel
Confidante: The Escort
Confidante: The Madame
For more information on upcoming releases visit
www.lillianaanderson.com/preorders
About the Author
Bestselling Author of the Beautiful Series, Drawn and 47 Things, Lilliana has always loved to read and write, considering it the best form of escapism that the world has to offer.
Australian born and bred, she writes New Adult Romance revolving around her authentically Aussie characters with all the quirks you’d expect from those born Down Under.
Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet Page 85
