The Season to Sin

by Clare Connelly

  ‘I don’t want to talk about what Noah has told me. I consider that confidential.’

  Gabe crosses his arms over his chest, staring at me as if he can see into my mind with just that look. ‘But I can imagine.’

  ‘Yes. You know him better than anyone.’ It hurts to admit that. I thought I knew him, but if I did, then I wouldn’t have pushed him so hard he’d run away. I wouldn’t have hurt him like I did. ‘Gabe,’ I say slowly, knowing perhaps I should employ formality, refer to him as Mr Arantini, but I can’t. This man I have heard so much about I now feel I know him too.

  ‘Sì?’

  He’s worried. I must do this better. Faster.

  ‘There’s no easy way to say this.’ I stand up, needing to be more on a level with the handsome tycoon. ‘Noah and I...became involved. Personally involved.’

  He stares at me for a long moment, angry colour slashing his cheeks. ‘You’re a psychologist,’ he snaps, gesturing to the wall that is adorned with my degrees and awards.

  ‘I know.’ I shake my head with frustration, knowing there’s no point explaining the shade of grey that our relationship inhabited, knowing that it won’t matter to Gabe that I’d outright refused to see Noah as a patient, just so I could sleep with him. That’s a pretty unprofessional thing to do anyway. ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘You think?’ His sarcasm is scathing. ‘I sent him to you because you help people! People like him! You were supposed to talk to him, not go to his bed.’

  It strikes the error of my decision into my heart, more firmly than before. Because he’s right. I chose my own sexual satisfaction over Noah’s welfare. I’m so ashamed. ‘I know, believe me, how much I’ve messed up. I know how much I’ve let him down.’

  ‘So what? You’re dumping him on me? You don’t want to deal with this mess, so I have to?’

  It’s not far from the truth. ‘I can’t deal with the mess. I’ve tried. I...love him, Gabe.’ Admitting it to someone else helps. ‘And Noah being Noah, he’s determined to push me away. He’s so angry with me. And he’s... It’s all wrong. I...I have my own reasons for needing it to be over. But yes, I’m worried about him, and I know you care about him, and that you’ll speak to him and stay with him until he gets help.’

  ‘Another doctor who’ll seduce him?’ he snarls.

  ‘It wasn’t like that, believe me,’ I say, but wearily, because it doesn’t matter who seduced whom, nor how we defined and justified our situation. ‘I know a doctor who will be perfect for Noah, but he... I suspect he’s on a downwards spiral. I think he’s going to need to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into therapy.’

  ‘And whose fault is that?’ The words are said with haughty derision.

  ‘Mine. I know that. Believe me, Gabe, you’re wasting your energy trying to make me feel bad about this. I couldn’t feel worse than I do.’

  ‘Oh, I doubt that.’ He glares at me for several seconds and then crosses his arms. ‘He deserved better than this.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘FUCK OFF!’ I SHOUT the words, but the sound makes my head bang. Screw this hangover. Where am I? I lift my head up and stare across the room. I’m on my sofa. Wearing jeans and nothing else. I push up to sitting as the banging at the door continues.

  What time is it?

  I stand. A wave of nausea surges through me. I grip the sofa back.

  The banging continues.

  The clock on the wall tells me it’s almost four o’clock. What time did I go to bed? Was I alone?

  Holly.

  My chest squeezes and I taste her tears in my mouth. I remember going to her home and practically demanding she fuck me. Jesus Christ. As if on cue, I see the discarded beer bottles littering my home.

  Is it Holly at my door? Has she come to see me?

  I stumble forward, lurching as fast as I can go in my probably still drunk state, and wrench the door open.

  ‘Cristo.’

  Gabe’s lips compress. I haven’t seen him in a couple of months, since Julianne died.

  ‘You look like shit.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I step back, not bothering to invite him in. There’s no need. Gabe knows he has a standing invitation to my home.

  ‘So it’s true. You’re just going to drink yourself into oblivion? That’s your plan?’

  ‘It was Christmas,’ I say defensively, my head splitting in two. ‘I have it on good authority it’s okay to over-imbibe.’

  ‘You don’t celebrate Christmas.’

  ‘I did this year.’

  ‘Alone?’ He is looking at me with sympathy. I don’t want it.

  ‘So?’

  His eyes lift to the mezzanine bedroom. ‘You got hammered here, by yourself?’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’ It’s not as though Gabe leads the life of a saint.

  A muscle jerks in his jaw. ‘You know what’s wrong with that. What the hell is going on with you?’

  I am so angry in that moment. So angry—angry enough to shove Gabe out my door.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

  ‘I saw your girlfriend,’ he says scathingly, and because I don’t think of Holly in that way it takes me a second to understand his meaning—and to unpack the consequences.

  ‘Holly?’

  ‘Yes, Holly. How many doctors are you sleeping with?’

  Jesus. ‘She told you about us?’

  ‘Sì.’

  Immediately I see it from Gabe’s perspective. Gabe with his black and white morality. Everything is right and wrong with him; there is no middle ground. It won’t matter to him that Holly refused to take me on as a patient. All Gabe will see is that he found me a doctor, the best doctor for men like me, and she screwed me.

  ‘It’s not her fault,’ I hear myself say, my head ripping itself apart. Fine beads of sweat have broken out on my forehead. I collapse onto the sofa, lying back and throwing a forearm over my eyes.

  ‘She chose to sleep with you, did she not? After you went to her for therapy?’

  ‘I wanted her,’ I say. Annoyed to be talking about this with Gabe. Annoyed to be talking about Holly as though she’s erred in any way. ‘You know how persuasive I can be.’

  ‘She’s a psychologist. She should have known better.’

  ‘She did. I didn’t consult her professionally. From the first moment I saw her, it was just about sex.’ Saying that hollows me out completely. About sex? Holly? It was so much more than that, but I can’t define how and why.

  ‘Jesus, man. You can sleep with anyone you want. Why the doctor I found to help you?’

  ‘I told you, I wanted her...’

  Gabe grimaces, grinding his teeth together. ‘She should have known better.’

  ‘She did! She knew it was wrong...’

  ‘But still acted on her feelings,’ Gabe says scathingly. ‘Anyway. I don’t give a shit about your sex life. I care about your head. What’s going on with you, man?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I’m sullen. Angry. Hungover as hell.

  ‘Liar.’ Gabe spins away from me, stalking to the other side of the room. ‘You need help. I can’t help you. She can’t help you. No one can until you decide you want that.’

  He stalks to the door of my apartment, staring at me angrily. ‘You owe it to yourself, and me, to see the guy she suggested. Until you sort your shit out, don’t bother coming in to work.’

  I stand up, my head spinning, ready to fight him, ready to fight anyone.

  ‘Don’t.’ Gabe lifts a finger. ‘Don’t give in to that impulse. You know I’m right.’

  But he doesn’t leave. He stares at me for a moment, long and hard, and then he walks back to me and wraps me in a hug. I can’t remember the last time we did this. It’s been years. But he hugs me and a strange lurching grief spasms in my chest.

  I pull away from him, shovin
g my hands into my pockets.

  ‘How was she?’

  He doesn’t immediately answer. ‘You can’t think of her. There’ll be plenty of women once you get yourself sorted.’

  ‘How was she?’ I repeat more emphatically.

  He sighs. ‘I don’t know her well enough to say. She was quiet. Obviously concerned for you.’

  That fills me with guilt. I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve Holly’s concern.

  ‘Sleeping with a patient is seriously deplorable. Talk about questionable ethics.’

  ‘It was very mutual,’ I say wearily. Defensively.

  I blink and see Holly. Holly in all her guises. Loving. Laughing. High on the drugging need of sex. Crying. My gut twists.

  ‘I really fucked up.’ My statement is bleak.

  My blood is screeching through my body, begging me to do something, enraging me, enlivening me and, yes, enlightening me. Holly loves me. She loves me and she fought for me. She isn’t pushing me away, even now, after all I’ve done. She called Gabe.

  My stomach is on a bad acid trip, lurching and squeezing. I grip the back of the sofa and swear. ‘I fucked up.’

  ‘Noah—’ Gabe sighs ‘—you need help. You don’t know which way is up right now.’ He pauses, dragging a hand through his hair, his eyes full of emotion. ‘We both carry the scars of our childhood. I understand you, Noah, because I’ve been there. We are birds of a feather, my friend.’

  ‘Yeah?’ I stare right back at him. ‘Then how come you never go off the rails? How come you seem fine with everything?’

  Gabe’s eyes lance me; something in the coldness in his gaze makes me worried about him. ‘Because I don’t have a heart like yours, Noah. You feel everything deeply. You need help to process your feelings, whereas I have none.’

  I laugh because it’s such an absurd thing to say, that he must, surely, be joking.

  ‘I do feel deeply,’ I mutter after a while, and I look at Gabe, completely lost, and uncertain as to what to do. ‘I fell in love with her. With Holly. I thought... I don’t know. She was different from the start, but I didn’t realise...’ It is a strange thing to recognise love, an emotion that should be filled with hope, and to simultaneously understand how utterly hopeless it is.

  There is no going back from the errors I’ve made. I love Holly because she is smart, strong and fearless—qualities that will stop her from ever forgiving me for how I’ve acted.

  * * *

  It is four weeks since I last saw Noah. Four weeks.

  I know that doesn’t sound like long—a lot can happen in four weeks. But my God. I have felt every second that has made up each long, barren day. I have never known such a soul-deep hurt as this.

  I’ve worked hard. I’ve spent extra time with Ivy, holding her close, knowing that it will be her and me for the rest of my life. How can I love again? How will I ever?

  I walk slowly, barely feeling the January chill that is thick in the air. Ivy is staying over with Diane, and I’m glad. On these nights, these rare nights when I am on my own, I can accept my grief, and I do.

  I plan to soak in the bath and then watch a depressing movie. Schindler’s List or The Piano. Something that will allow me to cry all these tears, to hang my grief on something inherently sad.

  I unlock my door without looking down the street, pushing it shut and sliding the chain in place.

  Our breakfast bowls are still on the table. On the mornings when I have to go to work and Ivy has school, we are often rushed like this. I dump my handbag to the floor, stretch my back and then scoop up the bowls, carrying them through to the kitchen. The fridge is covered with Ivy’s artwork—pictures of her, me, the cat she desperately wants and sometimes pretends we have.

  My smile tastes metallic on my lips. I open the fridge door and retrieve a bottle of sparkling water, cracking it and drinking several sips before placing it on the counter.

  I’m almost out of food and, though I’m barely hungry, I know I should take advantage of the fact Ivy’s not here to go to the supermarket.

  It’s the last thing I feel like doing. Then again, that’s true of everything now.

  I stack the dishwasher and then retrieve my handbag, pulling it over my shoulder and wrenching the door inwards.

  The last thing I expect to see is Noah Moore, handsome as hell in a dark grey suit with a crisp white shirt, his expression sombre, his body tight.

  My handbag slips from my shoulder, falling to the floor, but otherwise I don’t move.

  ‘Holly.’ He says my name softly, as though I’m an animal about to bolt. I must look like I feel. So full of emotions that I’m terrified.

  ‘Don’t shut the door.’ The statement is throaty, and I realise I’m clutching the wood with that exact intention. ‘I just...need a minute.’

  I shake my head, my eyes filling with tears. ‘No.’

  He nods, as if he understands. But how can he? How can he realise how impossible I’m finding it to function? How can he know that his being here is undoing four weeks of hard, hard work?

  ‘I’m sorry it’s been a month.’

  A month? It feels like so much longer.

  ‘I’m sorry about what I said in your office. I’m sorry about the night at my place. I’m just so sorry.’

  I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head, locking him out. But I can’t do that, not completely. ‘How are you?’ He touches me. Just a light touch against my cheek, but I pull away.

  ‘Don’t.’ It’s a gasp. A gasp of fear, because I am so close to wrapping my arms around his waist.

  He nods, a muscle jerking in his jaw. ‘I didn’t mean to.’ He jams his hands into his pockets, as if to physically keep himself away from me. ‘Will you give me five minutes?’

  Five minutes? I’ve given him my whole life, whether he knows it or not. ‘Fine.’ But my grip tightens on the door. ‘But out here.’

  I can’t say why, but it’s important to me to keep him out of my house, as if symbolically that will stop further incursions into my heart.

  ‘Okay.’ He nods, and I’m relieved. Relieved he doesn’t push this. ‘You were right about me.’

  My heart tingles. ‘In what way?’

  ‘About Julianne. About you. About why I wasn’t sleeping.’ He hesitates, his eyes locked to mine. ‘I’ve been seeing Dr Chesser. He’s helping me.’

  I sob, a sob that comes out of nowhere. ‘I’m so glad.’

  Something sparks between us and he moves closer, just a fraction of an inch. ‘It’s hard work, like you said. I still fucking hate therapy, Holly.’

  ‘I told you, there’s no magic cure...’

  ‘Damn right,’ he grunts, but his lips are soft, as though he wants to smile, or cry, I don’t know.

  ‘I haven’t had a drink in a month,’ he continues.

  I close my eyes because I don’t know what to say, and looking at him is hurting me.

  ‘I didn’t want to need you, I didn’t want to need anyone. But, fuck it, I can’t live like that. Not any more. Not now I’ve met you. I want you in my life, Holly.’

  My heart is being blown up like a balloon. It hurts so much.

  ‘And I know I’m messed up and that I’ve messed this up. I know I need to work out my own shit, but I’m asking... I’m here today, asking if you’ll wait for me. If you’ll wait for me while I become the man you deserve. I don’t want to lose you, and I know you should go, that you have to think of yourself, and Ivy, but God, Holly, I don’t want to lose you and I know I can be what you need.’

  It takes all my willpower not to show how much his words mean to me. Because he’s right. He’s messed this up. ‘You’re not the only one with baggage, Noah. I have every reason to stay away from you. I don’t want to be with another man who makes me miserable.’

  ‘Your happiness is my life’s mission,’ he says with such h
onesty that my heart lurches.

  Trust is a force at my back, but I’m stronger than I used to be and I ignore the emotion. ‘I’m glad you’re getting help. I really am. I want you to be happy and well. But I don’t for one second think I can trust you again.’

  ‘Then let me show you.’

  I open my eyes, looking at him, trying to understand, and I’m shaking my head.

  ‘I’m not talking about what we were,’ he says softly. ‘I know we’ll never be that again. I can’t undo how I was. I wish, I wish beyond any words I can offer, that I had listened to you. That I’d got help at the beginning. But I’m doing it now, and I’m doing it because it’s important, and I want to not feel like this. And because I want a future with you, and I know I’m going to have to work my arse off to deserve you.’

  I bite down on my lip and taste tears; I hadn’t realised I’d let them fall.

  ‘I just... I’ll never forget the sight of you with her.’ I shiver and push away from the door so I can support my back on the wall just inside. ‘I’ll never forget the things you said. And I know it’s because you’re messed up and you needed to push me away, but... Don’t you get it, Noah? You were my pleasure. You were everything I’d been waiting for and I loved you so hard and I gave you my whole heart, all of it.’

  ‘And I didn’t even act like I cared,’ he admits thickly, coming inside so he can cup my cheeks. ‘I cared. Believe me, Holly, I cared. I loved you then and I love you now, and I’m going to prove it to you.’

  He presses a kiss to my forehead, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that can’t fail to make my chest throb, and then he smiles.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you.’

  I watch him go with a frown and yet a lightness is living in me for the first time in a month. Hope is beating its tired, broken wings...

  * * *

  A week later Noah is waiting for me outside my office when I leave. I wasn’t expecting him and the sight of him in jeans and a leather jacket bowls me over.