Eight (Love by Numbers Book 6)

by E. S. Carter

  “He doesn’t put the special I on top of the castles for Ivy. I want you to come.”

  I take a step forward and bend my knees in a squat so that I’m at her level.

  “I want to come with you too, but I have to go see someone, it’s important. I promise to make it up to you when I get back. How about we go to that ice cream bar you love and you can choose whatever you want?”

  Her eyes light up for a brief second at the thought of her favourite treat but then dim just as quickly.

  “I guess so,” she replies quietly, leaning forward to hook her small arms around my neck.

  “Don’t be sad Princess Ivy. I won’t be long, I promise.”

  I tug her even closer and squeeze her gently, and when she pulls back, she gives me a watery smile and says, “I know, Daddy. I just miss you when you’re not here.”

  My heart thuds painfully, my chest constricting with both love and sadness for my perfect little girl. She lost her mother forever, lost her father for a little while and is now afraid of losing anyone else, even if only for a few hours.

  “And I miss you too, Princess Ivy, but I promise I won’t be gone for long. I’ll never be away from you for long.”

  “She’s not here. You need to leave.”

  The girl stood in front of me at the door to Halle’s apartment stares me down behind her dark-rimmed glasses. I recognise her as Rachel, Nate’s bar manager at Aurora and Halle’s roommate.

  “I just need to speak with her,” I state matter-of-factly, pleased with myself for keeping any annoyance at her interference out of my tone.

  “And I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again. She’s. Not. Here. And seeing as I’m off the clock and you’re blocking my doorway I have no qualms about causing you bodily harm if you don’t get lost. I don’t care who your brother is, and I’m sure he’d agree with me anyway.”

  “Who is it, Rach?”

  The head of the other girl, Zoey, I think her name is, pops up behind Rachel’s shoulder as she tries to squeeze past her friend to see what’s going on.

  “Oh, hey, Josh,” she greets cheerfully. “Are you looking for Halle? She’s at Aurora practising for her gig tonight.”

  “Zoey!” Rachel warns through gritted teeth. “Halle doesn’t want to see him, why the fuck are you telling him that?”

  Zoey shoulders her way past her friend and shrugs.

  “Because they are both too stubborn to sort their shit out. Anyone with eyes can see something is going on between them, what’s the point in keeping them apart?”

  “There’s nothing going on between us.”

  “There’s nothing going on between them.”

  Rachel and I speak in tandem, both refuting Zoey’s claims, but with the information I need about Halle, I no longer have to stay here and argue with two women I have no interest in, and so I turn and make my way down the stairs.

  “Don’t you dare fucking mess with her again,” Rachel calls out to my back. “She’s worth ten of you. I don’t care what you’ve been through in the last year. She’s dealt with shit her entire life.”

  My steps falter at her words, but I don’t turn around. I absorb them, swallow them down and walk out of the building without looking back. The only reason I want to see Halle again is to check that our mistake doesn’t come with consequences. Before our one night stand just eight days ago, I’d only ever been with Laura. That doesn’t excuse the fact that I didn’t use protection, but my inexperience, combined with whatever the fuck happened between us had me not in full control of my actions and emotions, and I need to know that she’s clean and on the pill.

  I can’t even let my head think about the ramifications if either of those things isn’t true.

  Driving over to Aurora my head spins as I try and fail to not think about either of those things. I need to find Halle, apologise for my behaviour the other day, find out the answers to my questions and let her know in no uncertain terms that what happened between us will never happen again.

  When I pull into Nate’s private parking garage, I spot his car in the adjacent space and roll my head back to hit against my seat. I do not need to bump into Nate today or for him to find out that I’ve fucked a member of his staff. Using the storeroom entrance, the one I’d found by accident previously, and the one that led directly to Aurora, I make my way through the boxes of booze, condiments and snacks and push through the door into Aurora’s main room.

  Before I see her, I hear her and a sense of deja vu ripples over my skin.

  Why are you here?

  I can’t look you in the eye.

  Why are you here?

  Do you love to make me cry?

  You steal all the air

  Like a crushing embrace.

  You claw at my skin

  Without looking at my face.

  You’re a stain on my soul.

  You’re a stain on my soul.

  I wish I was special

  And not something to discard.

  I wish I was special

  But you’ve left me scarred.

  Why are you here?

  I can’t look you in the eye.

  Why are you here?

  When you left me to die.

  You’re a crack in my heart.

  You’re a crack in my heart.

  I wish I was special.

  I wish I was special.

  But neither are you.

  I can’t fucking breathe.

  Her words. Her voice. Her very presence takes my ability to function away.

  Never before, not even with Laura, has someone tore out my soul and laid it before my eyes. She does that every time. Even when she’s not singing the words that feel like they come from inside me, she’s always lingering on the outskirts of my mind, no matter how hard I’ve tried to banish her.

  Is this what’s between us? A connection that has no name only a melody.

  I don’t know what it is or how to explain it even to myself, but when she opens her eyes on the last word of her song, and they lock with mine, everything I came here to say to her disappears like it never existed.

  I see her. I want her. I need her.

  That invisible yet seemingly unbreakable thread that pulls between us flexes and tightens, growing thicker and stronger as the seconds pass.

  I’m not aware of moving, but in a matter of seconds, I am stood before her. My hand reaches out to cup her cheek with my palm before bringing her face to mine. Just as before, the kiss is all consuming yet far less brutal than the ones we shared days ago.

  She opens. I take. She yields. I worship.

  Then, she abruptly pulls away, and the next thing I feel is the sting of her palm as she slaps my face.

  “No, you don’t get to do this to me again.”

  On shaky but strong legs, she jumps from the low stage and disappears into the dressing room on my right. The door slams shut behind her leaving me with nothing more than her taste still on my lips.

  I came here to demand answers.

  I took something else without asking.

  I need to leave.

  I need to run.

  With my decision made, I stride away from the stage with a determination to do the right thing for once.

  Even if it ends up being the wrong thing.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  Not again.

  I will not do this again.

  How dare he come here and look at me that way, then kiss me that way. His lips spoke without words. His caress contained a promise of more, but it’s all a lie.

  The door pushes open behind me, but before he can take a step into the room, I spin around with my hands out in front of me.

  “Get out. You don’t get to follow me in here. Leave now before I scream bloody murder.”

  It’s a promise and not a threat. I will not let him touch me again.

  “I just want to talk to you, I…” His words trail off, and his gaze drops to the floor. I take in his defeated stance, the slouch of his
shoulders, his hands tucked into his pockets, and I slowly lower my arms. He hasn’t come in here to force himself on me. Not that he’s done that before. I’ve wanted everything we’ve done together, and more. The more is the problem.

  When his head lifts to look at me again, I see confusion, shame, guilt and a whole host of other emotions play across his too handsome face. He’s not wearing his glasses today, and I find myself wanting to trace his thick brows with my fingertips and to smooth away the furrows etched into his skin.

  “Then talk, Josh. But stay over there. We don’t do so well at communication when we’re too close.”

  The corner of his mouth lifts in an attempt at a smile.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he all but whispers. “I think we do better when we’re touching than when we’re not.”

  “No,” I bark out harshly despite knowing he’s only trying to lighten the mood between us. “I need the space, so say what you have to say, and then you can go. I’ve only got a few hours to practice some new tracks. So, spit out whatever’s on your mind and then leave.”

  He nods once resignedly and takes a small step into the room.

  “I said stay over there.”

  “I will, but I want to close the door. Unless you want my brother to come around the corner and hear what I have to say, or any other random who may be here today.”

  “Fine,” I concede while taking a step back to maintain the safe distance between us. “What do you want, Josh?”

  He swallows and then goes to push up the glasses he’s not wearing. He stops with his finger on the bare bridge of his nose, smiles shyly and says, “Contacts. I always forget.”

  His nervous reaction is endearing, but I keep my face blank and my mouth silent.

  “Okay, well… I have to ask you something, and I was just going to blurt it out because I didn’t want to see you, but I had to know, and then you kissed me and…”

  “You kissed me,” I interrupt the ramble of words spewing from his mouth.

  “What?”

  “You said I kissed you, but you kissed me.”

  “You kissed me back.”

  I huff and stop myself from rolling my eyes.

  “I also slapped you, so unless you want a repeat, please continue.”

  He smirks. The prick actually fucking smirks before raising his hand and rubbing at the light red mark across his cheek. The mark I put there.

  Then, as if someone switched off the light that briefly flickers in his grey eyes, his face turns to steel.

  “Are you clean?”

  “Am I what?”

  “You heard me. When we fucked, we didn’t use anything. I need to know you’re clean.”

  He spits the word fucked at me as if it burns. Like the very thought of being inside my body repulses him.

  “Are you?” I retort with a sting in my tone.

  “What?”

  I channel every ounce of bitch I can muster, all fake and full of bravado, and saunter to the sofa where I sit down like I haven’t a care in the world.

  “Clean,” I enunciate clearly. “Are you?”

  “Yes,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Of course I’m fucking clean. What the fuck do you think I am?”

  “The same as you think I am, apparently. A slut.”

  He blinks, and his cheeks flush, but he loses none of the anger my question has evoked.

  “Are you on the pill?”

  “Isn’t it a bit late to be asking these questions seeing as you fucked me raw a week ago?”

  “I’m asking you now,” he pushes through his clenched jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

  I’m not sure if he wants to hurt me or fuck me again. Same thing really, I guess.

  “And what if I’m not? What are you going to do about it, Josh?”

  “I…” he stutters, not prepared for me to mess with his emotions the way he’s messed with mine.

  “I’d hope that you’d sorted it or I’d help you sort it if necessary.”

  “Good to know,” I say calmly and in total contrast to the swirling, churning pain engulfing my belly.

  “So, are you?”

  “No.”

  The word hits him at point blank range like a bullet to his chest, and I swear he staggers and almost falls from the impact.

  “Fuck.”

  I watch him implode, but not for long because despite trying to act like a raging, unemotional bitch and pretending that seeing him in pain doesn’t hurt me, I’m a fake and a liar. It does hurt me. It kills me.

  Watching him absorb the consequences of our actions is more painful than accepting them myself.

  He slumps against the door, one hand on his chest, the other in his hair.

  “I’m barren, Josh. I can’t get pregnant.”

  His head lifts, and his eyes find mine. At first, he looks at me like he’s trying to see any lies in my words, and then, his stare turns into one of empathy.

  “I’m sorry, Halle. I can’t imagine what that must feel like. I…”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me, Josh. I’ve made peace with it.”

  He stares at me a beat longer, and I have the ridiculous urge to comfort him. He looks so alone, so lost, so utterly detached from the world that I want to be the one to bring him back into it.

  “You’re not her,” he says so quietly I think he’s unaware the words came out of his mouth.

  “No, I’m not her.”

  He blinks in surprise, unable to understand that I’m answering him because he spoke out loud.

  “No one will ever be her, Josh. And I’m sorry for that. But that doesn’t mean you get to use me. So, if you’re done here, I’d like you to leave.”

  I’m just as surprised as he is, not at his words or mine, but at how much hearing him say them hurt.

  I hurt for him.

  I hurt for her.

  I hurt for what they lost.

  But never, not once, do I hurt for me.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs before turning to leave the room. “I’m not sorry for what we did, only the way we did it.”

  His back is to me as he stares out the open door, over towards the balcony and the ocean beyond.

  “I’m sorry for the way I left you and for how I’ve treated you since the very first day we met. I don’t have any excuse for being a prick, but I am ashamed of it.”

  He turns to look at me over his shoulder and pulls the door fully open. His face is earnest and even more handsome with the truth on his lips.

  “But I’m not sorry for coming here today and kissing you again. I’m only sorry that I fucked everything up. You deserve more. More than a broken man who is in love with a ghost.”

  Then he’s gone, and I’m alone.

  Always alone.

  I spot my messenger bag propped up against the wall, and I know that my songbook is inside. With itchy fingers and words swirling around in my head, I reach for it, pull out my precious book and write down everything I wish I could say but don’t have the words to do so. Only in song can I tell the story of my heart.

  Your lips tell lies but your eyes betray them

  You think I believe, so you say it again.

  Sorry is a word with a weight on your shoulders

  I’m sorry that I’m here, but she’ll never get older.

  With you.

  I know what I’m doing this time.

  No coincidence brought me to her. No interfering mother, friend or brother. I’m here of my own volition.

  I’m here because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  Eight weeks ago, I left her with a few pathetic apologies, and I haven’t stopped thinking of her since.

  My days are glorious and filled with watching my kids play and grow and relishing being the centre of their worlds. I absorb everything it means to be a father and each day with them brings back a little of the man I want to be again.

  I will always be grateful to Laura for giving me them, even if I lost her because of her devotion
to our kids, but I feel like it’s time to try for something more.

  The anniversary of Laura’s death and Arthur’s birthday was bittersweet. My entire family were by my side to celebrate both my special little boy coming into this world and Laura’s life.

  We laughed, we cried, we hugged, we mended, and despite it being the second hardest day of my life, I survived.

  No, that’s wrong. I didn’t just survive it. I grew stronger.

  The people that surrounded me filled me with the strength not to break. They held me together until I had the ability to do so myself.

  That was two weeks ago and tonight is the penultimate one before my parents fly home, and it will be just the kids and me again. It’s likely my last chance to fix something else that’s broken. Something I am responsible for shattering into pieces. Even if she wants nothing to do with me, I owe her that at least.

  So here I am, pulling into the empty parking garage at Aurora.

  With Nate back in the U.K. fighting to repair his relationship with the woman he loves, I’m here trying to begin one with the woman I can’t get out of my head.

  I check my appearance in the rear-view mirror, feeling like a teenager all over again. I’ve only ever dated one woman, and I was a kid when we met, and a nerdy kid at that. I don’t know the art of flirting or the etiquette of seduction. I don’t know the dos and don’ts of dating, but what I do know is that we share something that is worth exploring, worth restarting the right way, even after all the wrongs.

  As I make my way through the corridors behind the main club, I let myself into Nate’s office and flick on his wall of security screens. I don’t want her to see me until the time is right, and I don’t want to put her off kilter because I know she has an important set tonight. It’s her first one as a signed headliner at Aurora, and the last thing I want to do is fuck it up for her in any way.

  When Nate told me he’d offered her the contract, I almost called to congratulate her, but thought better of it, wanting to see her in person.

  So, I sit, and I wait.