My eyes try to flutter closed as I lean into his hand involuntarily, but I fight to keep control. I can’t go down this path again.
“Can I help you?” the server asks from behind the counter.
Matthew keeps his eyes locked with mine. “Two strong flat whites please,” he orders.
Getting some sort of power over my own body, I place my hand on his chest and push myself away from him. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t want this,” I babble and make my way out of the coffee shop. I shake my head quickly, it’s as if I’ve just broken the effects of some sort of a spell.
Walking hurriedly, I head for the train station so I can make my way home.
“Paige!” Matthew calls, running after me.
“Just go away, Matthew. I’m not doing this again,” I tell him, as I continue to walk.
“Doing what? We’re just having coffee.”
He falls in step beside me and works his way in front so I’m forced to stop walking.
“Please move,” I say, trying to walk around him. Every time I step to the side, he’s right there with me.
“Talk to me.”
“What do you want from me?” I cry out eventually.
“Isn’t it obvious? I want you.”
“Really? Just like you wanted me all those years ago?”
“Yes. More than that. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
“You haven’t stopped thinking about me? Seriously?”
“Of course. Don’t you understand how much I cared about you?”
“If you cared about me, why did you let me leave? You knew I had nowhere to go.”
“I… Paige. I shouldn’t have let you go. I’ve regretted that moment every day since it happened.”
“So have I, Matthew. I regret sleeping with you. I regret giving into whatever it was we had. That moment ruined my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have no idea what I went through. If you had cared about me, you never would have pursued me. You never would have slept with your best friend’s girl. I had a chance with Ed, and you pursued me. I had nothing. You knew that. The moment I left that house, my life went to shit. I have been to hell and back again because you wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.” Anger seethes inside of me as I suddenly see him as the root of all the wrong that’s been done to me. I see that moment with him as the turning point in my life. I can never look at him the same again.
“Hey, I lost Ed too that day.”
“Did you? You lost your best friend? Oh poor, Matthew. Poor, poor, Matthew! Did you lose your home? Did you lose the only person who cared enough to look after you?”
He shakes his head. “I cared. I still care. I looked for you. For months. But I fucked up and lost you. I made a mistake. OK. I know I should have told you to stay. I should have taken care of you. It was my house. Ed’s the one who left. He went back home to his parent’s house, and I haven’t seen him since.”
I can’t help myself, I raise both of my hands up and push hard against his chest. This power comes from inside me that I didn’t know was there, and it sends him stumbling backwards.
“You ruined my life!” I scream. I don’t care that we’re on the street. I don’t care that people can hear me. I don’t even care that I’m being irrational. But hearing him say how he regrets letting me walk out, breaks me. It’s like he’s holding up a picture of a life I could have had. But he just forgot to give it to me.
He rushes me, wrapping his arms around me as I fight him with everything I have while he pushes me up against the closest wall. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, taking my face in his hands. “I’m sorry.” He presses his lips against mine briefly, before wiping away my tears and planting gentle kisses on my eyes, on my forehead, in my hair. He continues trying to calm me, but I break down. Crying in the street like a woman possessed. I just can’t hold it in anymore.
My knees buckle, and I lean against him, crying into his shoulder as he holds me. He speaks to me softly. But I don’t hear a word. I’m so lost in my own pain right now.
Eventually, I do calm down. We’re now sitting on the footpath, with people walking past us on their way either to, or from, the station.
“What happened to you?” he asks, his voice filled with concern.
I push up from the ground and dust myself off. “No one saved me. That’s what happened.”
Standing beside me, he tries to look into my eyes. Although, I look everywhere but at him. “Let me make it all up to you. I never thought I’d see you again. I feel like fate has intervened somehow and it’s giving us a second chance. We can make this right. I can make this right.”
“I don’t believe in fate, Matthew. We’re not meant to be together. I’m sorry for breaking down on you. I really shouldn’t have done that. I think I just took years of shit out of you, and that was wrong of me.” I step away from him, needing to end this. “I’m going to go now. I don’t want to see you again, so don’t follow me. And please don’t stop me. What we had. It’s gone now. On my side, it’s gone. Just… leave me alone. If you care about me even a little, leave. me. alone.”
“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 inform
ation 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 my 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.
Beautiful Boxset: Beautiful Series, books 1-4 Page 85