Alex sat wide-eyed. “God, Mark…he’s good.”
He nodded. “I’m not trying to make excuses or place the blame on my sub-conscious, but all those weeks spent away from home, looking for approval…” He hesitated, avoiding her eyes. “It was at the expense of what really mattered, the people I cared about, especially you, Lex.” He looked up to meet her eyes.
A breath caught in her throat.
“So…” He squeezed her hand. “There you have it: Mark Keegan is damaged goods—but you have to name the problem to make it better, right?” A sheepish grin flashed across his face. “And I am making it better. That’s why I fired Wink and Chelsey, why I dropped out of Throttle. That’s why I’m continuing with counselling—to find healthy ways to deal with my guilt and grief. It’s also why I’m here…to come clean, and to apologize, and to thank you. You saw me pushing myself too hard. You tried to save me—”
“I was worried you’d work yourself to death. I just wanted a balanced life for us.”
“But I wouldn’t listen, would I? I was an arse, making you feel like you were being difficult. I am so so sorry. I was wrong, not you, and I know what I have to do now—what I want to do, and it’s not working twenty-hour days or a budget-bloated action film with a shite script. I want my privacy back. I want a balance between work and my personal life. From now on, I’m taking time off—weeks, not days—between projects. I’ll continue with Lairds for as long as they’ll have me, and supplement that with what I love.”
The old Mark, the one Alex had met in the Royal Court lobby…he wasn’t gone. He was here. Adorable, caring…honest Mark. A smile overtook her freckles. “Theatre, maybe? Like Constellations?”
“Yeah, like Constellations.” Mark smiled back. “I did that one for you, Lex.”
“I heard…” She tossed her bangs out of her eyes. “I saw it, you know.”
“I know.”
“Freddie?”
Mark chuckled. “Yeah.”
She glanced at her hand, happily held in his. “I kinda stumbled upon it one day.”
“I planned to tell you about it on our anniversary. When that didn’t happen, I almost told you when you were breaking up with me, but it was already…too late.”
Mark shoved up the brim of his ball cap, exposing his eyebrows. Alex realized just how much she had missed them. She nodded, pensively. “You made me cry—I mean, your portrayal of Roland made me cry. You were him.”
Mark smiled.
Alex looked away. “Did Fallon know…about Kieran?”
He shook his head. “I never told her about letting him out of my sight, no. Nobody knows, outside of my family. As far as the final police reports were concerned, Dad left two kids unattended for a few moments and tragedy struck.”
Sitting in silence, their eyes met.
“Fallon never really knew me…not like you did, Lex.”
And no one knows me like you do, Mark. Alex grinned softly into the passing breeze.
Mark let go of her hand and shifted. His knee collided with hers, but instead of moving it away, he kept it there. “I’m sorry it took me so long to introduce you to Mum.”
“It’s okay.” She reached over, squeezing his hand. “I think I understand now…”
“No.” He shook his head, rubbing his thumb over hers. “I felt terrible, keeping you apart. Mum’s birthday seemed like the perfect opportunity to right a wrong, and the focus would be on the posh new bungalow. Everyone would be happy. I made Mum and Gracie swear not to say anything about Kieran, though. I still wasn’t ready to tell you what happened…I was still too ashamed, I think. Part of me hated…erasing him from the day, but I did it anyway—for self-preservation.”
“Then, I spotted his name—”
“Yeah. I didn’t think. You were so upset about the key. I had to show it to you, so you would stop blaming yourself, but then you flipped the keychain over. I swear my heart stopped. I panicked—lied. I’m so sorry. I should have been honest that day. I hate myself for lying to you about…everything.”
Alex exhaled slowly, staring at the light bouncing off the pond. “I can’t judge you, Mark, not after what you’ve been through. I mean, I wish you’d felt like you could trust me with this when we were together. I wish you’d just told me and hadn’t thought I would judge you, but I understand why you didn’t. I’m glad you felt ready to tell me, even if it’s later rather than sooner…” She looked into his eyes. “…but why now?”
“August 17th” He gazed up into the cloudless sky. “Today would have been Kieran’s twenty-first birthday.”
Speechless, she laid a hand over her heart.
“I owed you the truth, and I owed it to Kieran, too…in a way. I know we can’t go back in time, but I wish to God I could. If I had your beloved TARDIS, just for the day, I’d put the broken pieces back together again. I’d save everyone, save you and me, then be back in time for Kieran’s birthday bash tonight…”
He smiled, but the grin didn’t linger. “I did the next best thing. Woke up this morning and caught the first flight out of Dublin. I can’t bring Kieran back, but I can make amends with you. I’m so sorry for lying, for always putting work first, for listening to fucking Wink…I’m sorry for everything, Lex. Wink may have had his own agenda, but I’m the one who allowed all of that to happen. I allowed you to get hurt, and I’m truly sorry. I know it’s…” He took a long, deep breath, releasing her hand. “…too late for us, but there’s never an expiry date on honesty, is there?”
Wait…too late…for us? Alex completely missed the rest of Mark’s sentence. Her stomach clenched in sickly waves—Mark had buried the lede. He really was here just to tell her about Kieran and make nice, nothing more, mending the past so he could move forward like Niamh said. Did I misread his body language, his intentions…?
“Lex?” Mark leaned in. “You disappeared there for a sec. What are you thinking?”
“Sorry…”
“It’s never too late to be honest, right?”
“No, you’re right…” She lowered her head and fiddled with her skirt. “I’m glad you told me, Mark. I’m really glad you’re working through this.”
“One step at a time. I know it’s a cliché, but it works…right?” Mark’s kind expression told her that he knew.
“Freddie told you?” she asked.
He nodded. “You weren’t posting on social media. I hope you don’t mind that I asked him how you were. I felt glad…relieved you were having fewer attacks. I’m so proud of you for getting help.”
“Thanks.” A soft smile reached her eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t cheat on me in Dublin, by the way…”
Mark squinted at the pond. “That’s one night I’ll probably never forgive myself for. New Year’s Eve is always a difficult day, but getting wrecked, hitting the booze and drugs to forget about everything that happened…that’s no answer.” Mark bowed his head. “I’ll never allow myself to fall that low again.” He pulled out his phone. “…Wanna see pictures of Kieran?”
“I’d love to,” she smiled.
Mark scrolled through his phone revealing a giggly infant, toothless with chipmunk cheeks and Michelin Man arms…
This photo? Alex remembered it from the family pictures on the wall at Niamh’s old house… Her eyes widened. “I thought that was you!”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “We looked identical at that age.” He swiped the screen. “And this one, three years later, still my mini-me.” A photo of two little boys in pajamas, surrounded by toy cars, football boots, and wrapping paper, grinned back at her. “This was Christmas just days before…” Mark sighed. “if only…”
With a sympathetic nod, she held his gaze and then looked at the pond.
They sat in silence. A refreshing breeze blowing along the path swept Alex’s bangs into her eyes, and Mark reached over and brushed them aside. His fingers lingered in her hair and slipped down the side of her face. The searing New York heat was no competition for Mark’s touch. Goose bumps pri
ckled her arms and the back of her neck.
Alex swallowed twice to ground herself. Maybe I didn’t misread his body language? She smiled softly. “When are you headed back?”
“Tomorrow morning.” His hand returned to his lap.
Damn. Her heart pinched. “What are you doing now?”
“Might take a wander, look around the park, go see the penguins…” He flashed a half-smile. “Then, check into an airport hotel for the night.”
A wander on his own…a cheap hotel? Alex shook her head. If Mark had only ten or twelve hours here, he would spend them with her.
“No. Come to mine. Have a shower, a bite to eat. I’ll make up the spare room for you.”
“Lex, I really don’t want to impose…”
“You’re not. Besides, you look like crap.” Alex smiled and grabbed her bag.
Fifty-Four
Mark had been in the shower for nearly forty-five minutes. Alex tied her hair into a messy ponytail and chuckled—he was going to be so pruned-up when he climbed out of there.
His lengthy disappearance had gifted her the chance to let their conversation sink in while exchanging her scratchy blouse and skirt for a much cooler bra-less slip dress. She also dressed the king-sized mattress in one of the large, unused bedrooms with fresh sheets and laid a spare bathrobe on the end of the bed. In the kitchen, she adjusted the air con temperature, left a jar of Nutella on the counter—ready for Mark’s breakfast in the morning—and stuffed Simon’s leftover beer in the fridge. She wanted him to relax, feel comfortable. She wanted to relax and feel comfortable, too, but her mind—and body—had other ideas.
She couldn’t stop hoping: Does his naked presence in my shower mean he’ll end up naked in my bed? Seeing him—hearing his confession, holding him through his tears—made her want to go much further than just sharing a takeout dinner across the breakfast bar. But isn’t it a cheap play, making a move on him? He was so vulnerable earlier. Even if he was willing to climb into bed, he was probably too tired. With the long flight, New York’s heat, and the emotion of the afternoon, it was a miracle Mark was still vertical…
…and still lathering up in her shower.
Oh, God! She leaned on the bar, her thoughts drifting to visions of water trickling down his chest, down his thighs… She closed her eyes. Not helping! Her heart was racing even faster than when she recognized him on the street. The longer he splashed around in there, the greater her desire grew to yank open the shower’s glass door and join him…to feel his lips against hers, feel their softness, their intent as they rediscovered all of her… Lex, just stop!
Four words flashed in her mind—too late for us.
What if the emotional rollercoaster of the past eight months had erased her from his heart, romantically? What if he wanted—needed—to be on his own for a while? Could I blame him? Not really. But embracing him, crying with him, she could no longer avoid the truth: she didn’t want him to be on his own now, for a while, or ever. He said he didn’t want the hectic life he had been leading. He said he wanted his privacy back, to make time for his loved ones. Hopefully, he meant it. She had never stopped loving him and maybe, he still loved her, too, but…how would she survive this evening if he only wanted friendship? What to do?
Freddie’s words echoed in her head: “Today isn’t a dress rehearsal for tomorrow…live in the moment…there is no time for regrets.”
She smiled. Who knew? Freddie Ryan: YouTuber, cheese and onion obsessive…life coach? Cheers, Freddie.
Leaving the safety of the breakfast bar, Alex strode over to the bathroom door. She took a deep breath, and her hand lunged for the door handle as the taps abruptly stopped, plunging the loft into silence. She froze. CRAP! The metal hinges of the shower’s door creaked. Mark was finally on the move.
No, no, NO! What if he stepped out into the living room right then looking for more towels? She couldn’t be caught lurking there.
She tiptoed a few feet away to the bookcase and fumbled with her iPod, sending music to the loft’s sound system. Broods, a band from New Zealand she loved, filled the room with their trippy, indie pop. Make like you’re busy. She ran over to the breakfast bar, and with her back to the bathroom door, started organizing plates and cutlery.
A few minutes later, the door snapped open.
A wave of steam, imbued with the light scent of his cologne, swept into the kitchen. Damp bare feet padded across the hardwood.
Finally.
“Lex?”
Alex turned around.
Mark’s light purple shirt was half-open, exposing a glimpse of his chest. His messy beard? Gone, along with his moustache and sad brown eyes, which now smiled along with his mouth. A clean pair of jeans hung low from his hips. As his fingers buttoned up his shirt, its hem lifted, showing off the black band of his underwear.
Fuck…fuck fuck fuck… Alex caught her breath.
Mark’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he took her in. He slicked his damp hair off his forehead. “Different outfit, Lex? You looked pretty before, but this dress…I might need another shower.”
She blushed, struggling for words. “Thanks.”
Mark caught her stare, his grin growing as he finished fastening his shirt.
The A/C is still on, right? Despite Alex’s slip of a dress, every inch of her was burning up.
“Food should be here any minute.” She turned back to the plates. Who was she kidding? Takeout wouldn’t satisfy her appetite.
Mark strolled over, standing behind her. He was so close. His breath caressed her neck in waves. “Lex…”
She glanced over her shoulder.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
They both flinched, but neither looked away.
Alex weaved on the spot, lost in his eyes…his familiar scent. Stupid food delivery.
“Be right there,” she hollered as she slipped past Mark, grabbing her purse from the coffee table and disappearing through the door. A minute later, she returned, toting a large paper bag with a menu stapled to its top edge.
“Thai?” Scratching his temple, Mark followed her. “Since when?”
“I don’t know, since…May, I guess?” She dropped her purse on the floor near the sofa and set the bag of food on the bar. She tore it open, placing several cartons of noodles, sticky rice, and chicken on the counter. “I’ve grown to like it.”
Mark nudged closer, checking out their food haul. The warmth of his arm pressed against her bare shoulder sparked tingles all down her spine. Spring rolls and chicken satays were the last things on her mind.
“It’s still your fave, isn’t it?” She turned to face him. “Or did your tastes change? Shit, sorry, I should’ve asked…”
He leaned in and swept her bangs to the side of her forehead. “It’s fine, Lex.” His intense gaze left her eyes to savour her mouth. His fingers flirted through her hair, down to her collarbone, towards the dip in her neck.
The gentle sweep of his fingers…she shivered, unable to speak.
His eyes crinkled at the corners again. “I wasn’t sure in the park. You’re still wearing it…”
Her hand grazed the silver chain necklace with its Vespa charm, meeting his fingers. She refused to let go. “I still love it. It means…everything to me.”
Mark licked his lips. “Hop on, hold tight, and remember to enjoy the ride.” He reached into his jeans’ pocket with his free hand, pulling out a slim silver keychain, free of keys.
Alex recognized it immediately and squeezed his hand—his keychain matched the one in her purse: June 5, 2015, their first date on his Vespa, zooming around London, flirting in the summer sunshine.
“I couldn’t bring myself to give it back to you, Lex. I always hoped…”
His words weakened her knees and hastened her heart. Enough of this dance, enough skirting around what she really wanted—Alex knew exactly what to do.
Abandoning her necklace, she grabbed his neck and pulled him in, covering his lips with hers. All the months of hurt, of pretend
ing she had moved on, faded as she welcomed him in. His tongue was familiar and possessive, owning her mouth and proving that no one else mattered. Going deeper, Mark moaned, stuffing the keychain in his pocket and locking his fingers onto her waist, grasping tighter and tighter as he pressed her against the cold stainless-steel fridge.
Its chill stung Alex’s upper back, jolting her forward, firmly against him. She softly whimpered into his mouth, her hands roaming from his jaw into his damp hair and back down again, slipping along his neck and taking possession of his shirt. It didn’t stand a chance. Dragging it quickly from his shoulders, buttons popped as she worked it down his arms to his wrists. The shirt’s cuffs wouldn’t budge. Can’t get the damn thing off!
Mark laughed into their kiss and left her lips. “Looks like we’re gonna need a lot of practice, just sayin’.” He freed his hands from the cuffs and flung the shirt on the countertop with a knowing wink.
Alex’s eyes widened. Mark’s already fit body was leaner, more sculpted. All her fears that the crazy Full Throttle 3 fitness regime would bulk him up like The Rock fell to the floor along with his jeans and her dress, which Mark lifted over her head in one smooth move.
“Oh, Lex…” Dropping her dress, Mark’s hands drifted through her hair. He untied the elastic, releasing her soft waves. He sighed, his hands travelling down her curves, his eyes taking all of her in. “You’re so beautiful. God, what you’re doing to me right now…”
I’m not doing enough! Alex slid her fingers down his firm chest towards his stomach, a path she knew so well. Despite his familiarity, her excitement, she hesitated in the trail of dark hair above his boxer briefs, the soft material stretching with his arousal. “All this time, I’ve missed you…so much…”
London, Can You Wait? Page 36