Grounded

by A. E. Radley

  Emily let out a relieved breath. She took the crutch from Olivia’s hand and placed it on the ground, gently adjusting her arm to hold it properly.

  “Oh.” Olivia smiled at the improvement and leant some of her weight onto the crutch, allowing Simon to let go.

  “What…” Emily looked around. “Just, what?”

  “Do you have any chocolate?” Olivia regarded her seriously.

  Emily stared at her for a moment in shock before reaching into her bag and handing over a bar of chocolate. Olivia’s eyes lit up as she hurriedly ripped at the wrapper and started to eat.

  “She’s drunk as a skunk.” Simon gestured to Olivia.

  “Obviously. Why did you let her get like this?”

  “I didn’t,” Simon defended. “I’m picking her up from making friends with Hells Angels and drinking herself into a coma.”

  Emily looked at Olivia and lifted the nacho hat off of her head.

  “No, I won that fair and square by slaying the bonkey deast!” Olivia reached for it. “Donkey beast,” she corrected.

  “Nacho hat or chocolate, not both,” Emily told her.

  Olivia considered it for a moment, then bit into the chocolate bar. Emily looked around and found a trash can to put the leaky hat in.

  “What happened to her leg?” Emily asked as she wiped her hands clean with a tissue from her bag. Suddenly she realised she had the answer already. “She was on the flight?”

  Simon nodded. “Yes, broken leg. Sprained wrist. She’s on the mend, though.”

  “I think you’d called her plastered,” Emily corrected.

  Simon walked to the curb and held up his hand. A moment later, a yellow taxi came to a stop by the side of the road. “I know this is awkward, but can you please help me get her to the hotel?”

  Emily looked at Olivia and then at Simon. She’d often wondered what she would say to Olivia if their paths ever crossed again, but she’d never managed to answer the question.

  She looked at Olivia, drunk and broken, smiling at her and calling her a beautiful fairy. The anger that Emily had thought would never fade was already ebbing. Seeing Olivia so vulnerable was strangely captivating, and she knew that she couldn’t walk away.

  She handed her bag to Simon. “Open the door,” she instructed.

  She turned to Olivia, who had her mouth full of chocolate and was smiling at her. She held out her hand, and Olivia placed the empty chocolate wrapper in the palm of her hand.

  She pocketed the wrapper and took hold of Olivia’s elbow. “Come on, time to go home.”

  Olivia thrust her cast-covered leg into the air. “Did you see my cast? Butcher signed it.”

  “That’s nice.” Emily pushed her leg down gently.

  “I’m sorry,” Olivia slurred.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Sorry about what I said.” Olivia was staring at her with unnerving clarity.

  “It’s okay,” Emily told her. And in that moment, it was. The sincerity of Olivia’s apology hit Emily hard. The anger she’d been holding on to had already slipped away like grains of sand sliding through her fingers. “Now, mind your head.” She reached up, placed her hand on Olivia’s head, and guided her into the back of the taxi.

  CHAPTER 15

  Emily opened the hotel suite door and stood to one side. Simon had parked Olivia against the wall while he took a second to get his breath back. While Olivia could hardly be described as heavy, it was also true that Simon couldn’t be labelled muscular. That, coupled with the fact that Olivia had a cast on one foot and was making literally zero effort to walk sensibly, meant that Simon had been manhandling her all the way from the cab.

  Simon draped Olivia’s arm around his shoulder and helped her into the room. She seemed oblivious to the trouble she was causing, happily rambling on about the taxation system in the Middle East. Now, finally, exhaustion was starting to set in.

  Simon edged towards the sofa.

  “What are you doing?” Emily asked.

  “Putting her on the sofa.”

  “She needs to go to bed.”

  Simon pivoted around and raised an eyebrow at her. “There’s not much that’s out of my job description, but that is.”

  Emily gave him an exasperated look. “Fine, help me get her in there and I’ll get her to bed.”

  Simon let out a short sigh, stood a little straighter, and twisted his neck from left to right before continuing to walk Olivia towards the master bedroom. Emily edged around them to hold the door open. As she did so, she noticed the door to the guest room was open too. The bed was unmade, with men’s clothes strewn across it. Simon passed her while she stood dumbly staring at the guest room.

  “Are you…staying here?”

  “Yup.” Simon pivoted Olivia around and sat her on the bed. “She doesn’t have anyone else. And there’s been problems with work.” He nodded towards Olivia. “She needed me.”

  Olivia flopped backward onto the bed and let out a long sigh.

  “Could you get her some water?” Emily asked.

  Simon quickly left the room, seemingly happy to escape the situation.

  Emily looked at Olivia, who was dressed in a crumpled, black skirt suit. She looked nothing like the smart and elegant woman Emily remembered.

  “Olivia, you need to get ready for bed. Do you need help?”

  “Sometimes I say the wrong things,” Olivia mumbled.

  Simon returned with a glass of water and handed it to Emily. He looked at Olivia, still spread-eagle across the bed. “Good luck,” he whispered.

  Emily glared at him. “You owe me for this.”

  Simon shrugged before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

  Emily looked back to Olivia. “I think you should drink some water before you go to sleep. It will help to get the alcohol out of your system.” Emily held out her free hand and waited for Olivia to take it.

  After a moment of debate, Olivia grabbed the offered hand and pulled herself up into a sitting position. She took the glass and looked at Emily as she took a sip.

  “Are we in London or New York?”

  “New York.”

  “Oh.” Olivia took another sip. “I find it hard to tell. My room’s the same.”

  Emily looked around. “Yes, the suites are identical, aren’t they?”

  “Nearly identical,” Olivia corrected. “The faucets, sockets, and light switches are different. I checked.”

  Emily grinned. She’d missed Olivia’s precise ways. Among other things she didn’t want to think about right now. “Drink some more water.”

  Olivia swallowed another small mouthful. A frown graced her features and Emily could practically hear the mental cogs turning.

  “I think I’m a little bit drunk,” Olivia declared.

  “Really?” Emily smiled.

  “Yes. Don’t tell Simon. He’ll just tell my son. They’re thick as thieves.”

  Emily frowned, but decided not to question the statement. There were more pressing matters at hand. “Drink some more water, and then we need to get you into bed.”

  Olivia took a small sip, but Emily knew she wasn’t going to get much more down her. She took the glass and put it on the bedside table.

  “Do you need help getting undressed?”

  Olivia looked at her, glassy-eyed.

  Emily sighed. She bent forward, removed Olivia’s suit jacket, and placed it on the end of the bed. Straightening up, she gestured for Olivia to take her hands and stand up too. Once she was on her feet, Emily undid the zip on her skirt and pushed it to the floor, doing her best not to look. She helped Olivia step out of the skirt and, when she stabilised again, released one hand and pushed back the bedding.

  Sitting Olivia down on the edge of the bed again, she quickly undid the buttons of the white blouse and pushed it from her shoulders. Her eyes chanced a peek downwards, and she swallowed at the sight of the expensive silk bra. She silently chastised herself, instinctive though it was.

 
; She knelt on the floor and removed Olivia’s shoe from her good foot and then the protective pad from the cast. She stood up and picked a piece of stray nacho out of Olivia’s hair, and then helped her into the bed. By the time she pulled the bedding back up, Olivia was thankfully almost asleep.

  Emily picked up the abandoned clothes and placed them over the sofa in the corner of the room. She looked at Olivia again and wondered what had happened to drive her to drinking herself into a stupor in a run-down bar. Emily hadn’t known her long, but she knew Olivia rarely drank. She took one last look at the sleeping woman and then left the bedroom to find the man with the answers.

  Emily found Simon sitting in the living area looking at his mobile phone. When he saw her, he jumped to his feet.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Asleep,” Emily replied.

  “Thank you so much.” He pointed to the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “No thanks. I should go.” Emily hadn’t been in contact with Simon since the fight with Olivia. To be fair, he hadn’t contacted her either.

  “Okay.” Simon fidgeted with his hands. Clearly she wasn’t the only one affected by the awkward atmosphere in the room.

  “She mentioned her son?” Emily wasn’t sure why she asked. It was none of her business. Except she somehow felt as if it was. She thought she’d been close to Olivia, and she had never mentioned a son. It seemed like a strange omission.

  Simon chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands. “Oh, man, that’s never going to go away.”

  “What?”

  Simon gestured to the sofa opposite and Emily sat down. He took a seat and explained, “When I arrived, it was outside visiting hours. I’d slept overnight in the airport in London, flown for hours, and rushed to get here. And I didn’t want her to be alone—you know how she hates hospital—so I told the reception desk that I was her son.”

  Emily stared at him. “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “And they didn’t question it?”

  “Nope.” He shrugged. “Anyway, the next time I saw her, she was high as a kite on pain medication and the nurse had told her that her son was coming to take her home. And Olivia is just like, ‘Oh, okay, I have a son’.”

  She laughed. “Pain medication is a weird thing. When I was younger, I fell out of a window—long story—but I was on pain meds in the hospital.” She shook her head at the memory. “It was so surreal. I was watching some kids’ show on television, and I thought it was real. I thought puppets were real and that I was a puppet. So, when I saw the nurses, I thought they were weird. As if I couldn’t fathom what a human was.”

  He smiled. “I thought she might have forgotten by now, but it’s clearly buried in there somewhere.”

  “Yeah,” Emily agreed. “I’m sorry I never got in touch.”

  “Me too. I…well, Olivia said that things ended badly. I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me again.”

  Emily nodded. “I felt the same way. I didn’t know if I should contact you or not. Did she explain what happened?”

  “No, she just said that she made a mistake.”

  Emily lowered her head. It was true; Olivia had made a mistake. But she wasn’t blameless either. She’d broken her promise to Olivia. Her promise to try. And while the anger of the argument was still a little raw, it was dissipating. Even if she didn’t want it to.

  “I should go.” She got to her feet.

  “Okay.” Simon stood up too. “Well, you have my number. If you want to stay in touch, I can never have enough friends.”

  She smiled. He was putting control in her hands, and she appreciated it. She’d missed Simon almost as much as she’d missed Olivia—and she had missed her. Being reminded of Olivia’s unique and endearing ways certainly complicated matters. She wanted to be angry at her. She wanted to keep her distance, to protect herself and Henry. But she somehow knew that she’d be back. “Me too. I’ll call you.”

  CHAPTER 16

  When Emily returned home, she quietly closed the front door and slowly turned the lock, wincing at the loud click it made in the silence of the dark house. She shucked out of her coat and shoes and tiptoed across the hallway towards the stairs. Reminded of the times she used to break out of foster homes as a teenager, she mentally congratulated herself at not having lost any of her skill.

  She placed a foot on the stairs and looked up to see Lucy standing halfway up, looking down at her, arms folded.

  “Out with it.”

  Emily glared. “Don’t do that,” she whispered.

  “You’re trying to avoid me. Something’s happened.” Lucy walked down one step. “You crept up the garden path like a ninja, snuck in, closed the door, softly.” She took another step. “You’re avoiding me. Which means it’s juicy.”

  “I don’t know what—” Emily began.

  Lucy folded her arms, raised an eyebrow, and Emily let out a sigh.

  “Okay, in the kitchen.” Emily turned and walked that way. Lucy followed, and they both sat down. Lucy put her elbows on the table and cradled her head, leaning forward with a smile. She waited.

  “I saw Olivia.”

  “Olivia?” Lucy blinked in shock. “First Class Olivia?”

  Emily snorted a laugh. “The one and only. Although she wasn’t very first class when I saw her.”

  “Where? How? No, never mind that, just tell me everything. Right now.”

  Emily chuckled at her exuberance. “I was walking to the subway when I saw this man and woman leaving a bar. The woman trips and I catch her. Then I look up, and the man is Simon.”

  “Her assistant?”

  “Yup.”

  “And the woman was Olivia?” Lucy squeaked.

  “Yeah, and she’s drunk. Like ‘she has a nacho hat on her head and she’s barely able to walk’ drunk. Oh, and get this, she was on the plane that crashed.”

  “No!”

  “Her leg is in a cast; she has a bruise on her face. And I’m just standing there, holding her up, wondering what the hell is going on.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Well, Simon’s absolutely useless. He’s supposed to be looking after her, right? But she’s drunk, making friends with bikers, nachos in her hair. So, I help him to get her back to her hotel and into bed.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She thought she was dreaming. She called me a fairy.”

  “And?” Lucy pressed.

  “She called me beautiful.” Lucy opened her mouth, but Emily cut her off. “But she was very drunk.”

  Lucy squealed with excitement. “Are you going to see her again?”

  “I don’t think so.” Emily shook her head.

  Lucy pouted.

  “After what happened last time?” Emily looked at her friend. “Henry’s still depressed, missing her. I can’t just bring her back into our lives, because who knows what he’ll be like if she leaves again.”

  “She didn’t technically leave,” Lucy murmured.

  Emily could feel her defences rising. “You think I was wrong?”

  “No, no.” Lucy reached out and took her hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. “I just know that it was a really weird situation and emotions were running high. And, as much as you talk about Henry missing her, I know you miss her too.”

  Emily opened her mouth to reply but stopped and closed it again. It was true. She did miss Olivia. She’d known that before seeing her again, and now the feeling was even stronger. Henry’s mood was understandable. He missed Olivia as much as she did; he just didn’t know how to process the feeling.

  “Maybe I overreacted,” Emily admitted softly. “Maybe I didn’t. What’s done is done.”

  “Not always.”

  Emily paused. Lucy was right, but she had spent so long being angry that it was a struggle to see reason.

  “Even so,” she finally replied. “It’s probably better to just forget it. I don’t want to go through that again. And I certainly don’t want to pu
t Henry through all of that again.”

  “You assume the worse. What if it all works out?”

  Emily gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t have the best luck. I find it best to assume the worst.”

  “Whatever you think is best,” Lucy conceded. She stood up, walked over to the counter, and picked up a letter. “This came for you. I had to sign for it.”

  Emily took the envelope, surprised to see a British return address. She ripped open the seam and pulled out a letter, immediately noticing the check attached to the top of it. She skimmed the words, and her mouth dropped open in surprise.

  “What is it?” Lucy asked, seemingly only just managing to keep herself from pulling the page from Emily’s hand.

  “The journalist.” Emily waved the paper in front of her. “She sent me a check. For three thousand dollars,” Emily whispered as she read and reread the note. “It’s a royalty payment for Henry’s story. Apparently a lot of magazines picked it up across Europe.”

  Lucy snatched the letter and quickly read it through herself. Emily reached forward and removed the check, reading it again and again to reassure herself that it was what she thought it was: a check, addressed to her, with the correct date, and signed.

  “I’ve never seen a check for this much money made out to me. I’ve only ever seen bills for this much.” She chuckled.

  “Looks as if your luck is turning.” Lucy handed back the letter. “New job, check for three thousand dollars, Olivia back in your life…”

  Emily shook her head. “Henry’s depressed, the ex-in-laws from hell are making my life miserable, my job feels like a house of cards, and Olivia is most definitely not back in my life.”

  “We’ll see,” Lucy sing-songed.

  CHAPTER 17

  Emily didn’t sleep much that night. Her mind was whirring with information and questions. The check had been a welcome surprise, but now she wondered what to do with the money, how to put it to best use.

  On top of that, she missed Henry. Although it wasn’t ideal that she shared a bed with her son, she’d become used to his company, and sleeping alone was difficult. She missed the snuffling sound of his breathing and the occasional thwacks to the face he delivered while dreaming. Knowing that he was likely miserable where he was did nothing to calm her.