Q: There are rumours that you two are dating…
A: “I’ve learned the hard way that a private life should be just that—private. I’m protective of it and those I hold close.” Keegan smiles. “Nothing to see here.”
Alex sighed as she pushed the paper away.
“All right, love?” Joan patted her hand.
Alex stared out the window at the slow-moving shops and buildings that signaled their stop was next. “That Q&A left me with more questions than answers.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” said Joan. “Sometimes we don’t like the answers we’re given.”
Thirty-Three
London, ten days later
“Hi, Lex. You going out later?” Tom leaned on the doorjamb leading into Alex’s room.
“Yeah, I’m heading out around five-thirty…time to mend some fences.” She looked up from her laptop.
“Please tell me you’re not off to see Mark?” He scowled as he walked in, staring at her screen.
“I’m seeing Freddie. I was away for his birthday so…” She glanced back at her work in progress. “Need me to pick up something on my way back?”
“No…” He snapped his knuckles. “Naomi’s off work tonight, so I’m planning a romantic evening, get a takeaway in…”
“Oh.” Alex sat back and nodded. “Okay.”
“I feel like a shit friend. You’ve only been here two nights and already I’m pushing you out.”
“Tom, it’s your house.”
“You don’t have to stay out all night…”
“If we’re done early, I’ll catch a late movie.”
“Aw, cheers, Lex.” He stopped cracking his knuckles and hovered.
“Things still aren’t…”
Tom shook his head. “Since it’s been confirmed, Naomi barely looks at me.”
“Give her time. It’s a massive shock.” Alex’s eyes flitted back to her laptop as the screensaver—now set to con photos with Lucy instead of Venice with Mark—took over her screen. “A two-year-old child with someone else? Not how she envisioned her first year of marriage.”
“Me neither.” Tom smiled sheepishly. “He is something, though. Want to see a photo?” He pulled out his phone. “Meet Rex.”
A redheaded toddler dressed in a Chelsea football kit grinned from the screen.
“Wow, Tom.” Alex’s eyes flew back to her friend. “You made a cute kid!”
“I know, right? My mini-me, albeit a ginger mini-me. It’s weird but kinda cool.” He laughed. “When you think about it, it’s amazing how one shag can change everything.”
Alex sighed. “Yeah, change it forever.”
“We have to take Lex here after we’re done.” Freddie leaned across the boardroom table in the Teenage Cancer Trust offices, showing Simon a website on his phone. “It’s a Tube-themed cocktail bar in Soho. She’ll die! Apparently, it used to be an underground air raid shelter.”
Simon squinted at the screen. “You only like that place because it’s Instagram-worthy. You’re not shooting a vlog there, too, are you?”
Alex peeked around the doorjamb. “Happy belated birthday, Freds!”
“Aw, come here, Sparkly Girl!” Freddie jumped up from his chair and hugged her. “You’re the best prezzie. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” Alex mumbled into Freddie’s chest, his embrace tightening by the second.
“It didn’t feel right, you being up north away from us, but now you’re back, it’s almost May, and everything is right with the world again…well, almost…oh, fuck it, you know what I mean. It’s just good to have you back.”
Alex’s heart dipped. How long would it be before that stopped happening?
Freddie released his clinch. “Okay, lady, ready to work?”
“Definitely.” She removed her coat.
“Welcome back.” Simon stood up, kissing Alex on the cheek. “I’ll get us some plastic banners. Be back in a minute.”
“I’m so glad you came.” Freddie smiled. “I figured if you saw me with my big boy charitable pants on, you couldn’t possibly be cross with me anymore. I’m a good ’un, see?”
“I see.” Her eyes swept over the table filled with bang-bang sticks, ponchos, and temporary tattoos for Teenage Cancer Trust’s ‘Cheer Kits’. “I wasn’t angry with you, Freddie. I was in self-preservation mode. I needed time away.”
“Yeah, from me.”
“Not just you.”
“But I went way overboard. That ‘What have you done?’ text? God! And bringing Mark around early for his move? Lucy’s still pissed at me. I thought if you saw how sad Mark was, you might buckle and take him back. It almost worked, too. You had that look, like you really wanted to hug him—and you were wearing his shirt! My heart ballooned, and then Lucy popped it by pulling you away.”
“I was having huge regrets—”
“Really? I thought so—”
“But not anymore.”
Freddie’s face fell. “Well…I’m happy you’re back. I miss your snarky comments on my Insta.”
“Don’t hold your breath. I might extend my social media sabbatical.”
“Aw, come back, Lex! I’m bleeding followers. That annoying silver mime artist in Covent Garden? He’s got more followers than me! How messed up is that?”
He plucked an armful of ponchos from the table. “So, here’s the deal: each envelope gets one tattoo, one poncho, and so on. Don’t seal them up, though. Si’s fetching the banners…if he ever comes back. He’s probably stuck offering plumbing advice to the manager again—she’s in the middle of loo renovations, apparently.”
Alex sat down, picking up a tattoo. “You know, it still shocks me…teenage you, with cancer. I had no idea.”
“I know I can be a blabbermouth, but even I have secrets. I threatened Lucy and Mark with pain of death if they ever spilled. I wanted to be the one to share my past.”
“Absolutely.”
“I almost said something when you told me and Lucy about your anxiety, but it wasn’t the right time. I wanted to know you a little better. Some people get super freaked by the c-word—especially when it involves a kid. I can’t blame them, really. You’re supposed to be all hormones at fifteen, trying to cop off for the first time, and there I was, having a ball removed.” He stuffed ponchos in his envelopes. “I never wanted to use cancer for sympathy. I wanted you to know me first. That way, if you did end up feeling sorry for me, it would be because of my terrible singing or my shitty taste in rom-coms…not because I had testicular cancer.”
“I understand why you waited. I didn’t tell Mark about my panic attacks for seven months.”
“I know. You kept telling us not to tell him, and I never did.”
She smiled. Her anxiety was a secret Freddie had guarded like it was his own.
“I wish I had told you differently. Toasting my latest all-clear check-up at Thirteen’s closing party was a bit too Freddie, even for me.”
Alex giggled. “You gave us a big reason to celebrate that night.” She added inflatable bang-bang sticks to Freddie’s packages. “Until then, I always thought you were off shopping when you weren’t around. I had no clue you were so philanthropic.”
He shoved his hair from his eyes. “It worked though, didn’t it? I like to keep up the illusion of Fun Freddie, twenty-four-seven in glorious technicolour, darling!” His finger flicked through a stack of tattoos. “Are you still volunteering with that lupus charity?”
“Yeah, it’s been eight months now. I’m writing for their newsletter, just minor pieces.”
“Minor, my arse, Lex. I’d say that’s pretty major, still doing it. You don’t have to, you know.”
“I know, but I don’t want to let them down.” Alex shrugged. “Niamh meant a lot to me.”
“Mark said she misses you.”
“Freddie…”
“You can still talk to her—”
“No.”
Freddie leaned in. “But if something happens
…if her lupus gets worse, you’ll feel awful.”
Alex opened up a new box of ponchos. “I know…she was like a mom to me, but it’s awkward now. Ditch the guy, keep the mom? Don’t think so.”
“Awks but not impossible,” said Freddie.
“Maybe in a few months, I’ll reevaluate but…” She shrugged.
“Lex, I don’t want to come off all I had cancer and now I know what’s important because I don’t. I’m still figuring things out, but I do know that there’s no time for regrets or putting things off. That’s why I came out a day after my diagnosis—there was no way I was going to die in the closet. Life gives you no guarantees. You never know when that bus will hit you or cancer will show up.”
“Do you worry a lot? About it coming back?”
“The worry—the threat—is always there, like your panic attacks. In my own silly way, I look at cancer like a crazy-ass ex who might knock at my door out of the blue. I just hope he’s lost my address and I never hear from the bastard again.”
Alex bumped his arm. “Your crazy-ass ex might kill you. At worst, I might faint when mine shows up. They’re hardly the same.”
Freddie chuckled. “We all have our terrors, Lex. That’s why I love hard and make merry every day…even if some people think I’m OTT. Today isn’t a dress rehearsal for tomorrow. Do things now. Live in the moment—don’t worry about what’s ahead.”
A sentiment she knew too well floated through her mind: Hop on, hold tight, and remember to enjoy the ride. She swallowed, not prepared to give Mark credit. “My therapist said something similar, said living in the moment will ease my anxiety.”
“See? Great minds!” He widened his eyes. “That’s why I asked Si to marry me after four months of dating. I love him. Why wait?” He paused. “I know you and Mark had talked about it…”
Alex looked up from her envelopes.
“He told me, Lex, and I told him to pull his finger out, but you know Mark—work, work, work…” Freddie shrugged. “I don’t blame you for leaving him. Your split broke my heart, though.”
“Have you seen him much?”
“You want me to go there?”
She inhaled deeply and nodded.
“Well, now that the play’s over, he’s back living at my place, so…yeah. And we have been out, a few times…” He pushed up his glasses, gauging Alex’s reaction before finishing his answer. “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“I asked. Whatever you’re going to say, I can handle it.”
Freddie swallowed. “Mark and Fallon are seeing each other.”
Her stomach flipped. The unspeakable, spoken.
“I give them credit though…” Freddie grabbed several bang-bang sticks. “New Year’s Eve aside, they didn’t hook up until earlier this month, up in Manchester.”
“Right…”
“At least nothing more happened until you were broken up and living separately, and to be honest, it’s Fallon who’s all in…”
Alex looked up from her pile of filled envelopes. “Why? Did Mark say that to you?”
“No…just a feeling I have.” He shifted in his chair and looked away. “Lex, I’m sorry. I wish he was still with you.”
“I wish he didn’t still mean so much to me.” She bowed her head. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
“But we are, right?” Freddie shifted closer, ducking down to look into her eyes hidden beneath her bangs. “I might be a constant reminder of Mark, but I promise I won’t talk about him or tell him what we talk about. We’re okay…aren’t we?”
Alex hugged him. “‘Course we are. I might have moments when I just can’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Freds. I know this hasn’t been easy, stuck in the middle.”
“Tightrope walking…” He smiled over her shoulder. “…one of my many talents.” He pulled back. “Perhaps you can work on Lucy, though? She’s still freezing me out. Both Moriarty and I are blocked on Insta. I even started unboxing collectables on my YouTube channel, hoping to grab her attention, but nope.”
“You’re buying again?”
“I shouldn’t have stopped. I love collectables, I love cons. I love Simon, too, but I can’t keep sacrificing who I am to keep him sweet. Relationships shouldn’t be like that. It’s got to be give and take. Sometimes I think Simon didn’t get that memo—his parents still don’t know he’s gay, still don’t know about our engagement. I want to marry him, but I’m done trying to twist myself into someone I’m not. That’s why I came out in the first place—to stop pretending. I hate pretending.” He chuckled. “God, I’m preaching to the converted, aren’t I? I’ll shut up.”
Alex smiled.
“Hopefully, Simon will realize I’m just as adorable without the vegetarianism and Cross-Fit bod.”
“Freds, you’ve never had a Cross-Fit bod.”
“Fair enough. I’d choose cheese and onion pasties over having six-pack abs any day. So…you’ll talk to Lucy?”
“Yep. Promise.”
“Her and Harry, eh? I was the last to know.”
“They’re cute together. I’m happy for them.”
“Oh, you’re a bigger person than me, honey. After breaking up with my ex, I hated all lovey-dovey couples. I dove into dancing, drinking, shagging randos…worked a charm. If you ever want to get off your tits, I can leave Si with his pipe and slippers. You and I can stay out till all hours. We’ll give London’s most notorious party animals a run for their money!”
“If Tom and Naomi patch things up, I might have to.” She leaned in, her voice lowered discreetly. “I’m dreading the first time I stumble over a threesome…”
Freddie roared with laughter. “Oh, my God! Did you ever think that sentence would pass your lips when you moved here three years ago?”
“Never in my wildest, Freddie.” She laughed and grabbed another pile of envelopes.
Thirty-Four
One month later
Rihanna meant business and so did Alex. The booming chorus of “Only Girl in the World”, in sync with her pumping arms and determined feet, surged her forward along the narrow Regent’s Canal towpath, past rows of moored canal boats. She weaved around cyclists, Saturday morning walkers, and fellow joggers, seeking a big finish to her run—just what she needed after receiving that email earlier in the morning.
Pushing herself, her breathing upped its pace to match her full-on sprint. She squinted into late May’s overdue sunshine, across the canal at two steel gasholders towering into the blue sky. Their presence and the railway and street bridges looming ahead signaled that the first half of her daily run was almost over, and the steps leading to Mare Street were, thankfully, around the corner.
Third chorus in, RiRi gave way to the Sherlock theme. Alex’s phone, strapped to her upper arm, kept the caller’s identity out of sight. “Hello?”
“Sincy, it’s Tarq!”
“And good-bye.” Alex pushed her earbud cord’s disconnect button as her eyes scanned the puzzling ‘break a leg’ graffiti spray-painted underneath the railway bridge.
Ten seconds later, the theme played again. Ugh. She stumbled to a stop just beyond the second bridge overpass, her chest rising and falling with breathless abandon. “What?”
“Sorry about Sincy. It has now been deleted from my vocab. You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Your breathing is heavy…”
“Not for the reason you think.”
“Shame, that.”
“Tarquin, what do you want? You’ve ruined my jog.”
“A fellow jogger? Blimey, a girl after my own heart.”
“I’m not after anything, Tarquin. What do you want?”
“Someone to hang with this afternoon. Harry said you were back.”
Alex winced and slowly climbed the steps leading to Mare Street.
“Meet me on the South Bank.”
“I can’t. I’m in Hackney.”
“After your jog. After your shower.”
“I have writin
g to do.”
“On Saturday? Look up. The sky’s glorious. Shame to waste it. I’ll buy you ice cream outside the National Theatre. Go on, Sunshine, say yes—you know you want to!”
He had a point: this May day was a stunner. And…if they did sit outside the National, maybe she would see the literary manager, or someone from the New Work department…remind them she still existed…but she couldn’t stay out all afternoon.
“I’m meeting Lucy later.”
“I’ll have you back before she shows. Harry says she’s always late, anyway. Come on! A wander and a chat, that’s all I’m after.”
“Okay.”
“Brilliant. Meet me at the foot of the Golden Jubilee Bridge—you know, in front of the Royal Festival Hall? Half past twelve?”
Waiting on a concrete bench, Alex ignored the Thames view and flicked through a cheap magazine she had found discarded on the Tube. Just a few pages in and…surprise! Yet another slap to the face—photos of Mark and Fallon leaving Soho House. Fallon was all over him, like he was her personal jungle gym. A twinge of jealousy pinched her heart. Mark was laughing, moving on…
“Junk food for the brain.” Tarquin’s hand reached over her shoulder, snatching the magazine from her grasp. He joined her on the bench. “A mind is a terrible thing to waste.”
“I guess you’d know.”
He dismissively glanced at the page Alex had open and slapped it down beside him. “I came early to shop.” He opened a red plastic Foyles bag. “See, I read more than Dr. Seuss.”
Alex checked out his stash—a memoir about the guy behind PayPal, a Steve Jobs biography. “You surprise me—no football bios, no trashy thrillers, and…the updated Star Wars encyclopedia? Really?”
“I’m a massive Star Wars geek. My dad hired actors to play Han Solo and a Wookie for my tenth birthday party. Tread carefully, I’m skilled at Jedi mind tricks.”
Alex snorted and stood up. Following her cue, Tarquin rose to his feet, too.
“I know who was in that magazine. Breakups are hard enough, but spotting your famous ex everywhere? Jeez.” Tarquin steered her back with his free hand. “No magazines on my watch.”
London, Can You Wait? Page 26