Until we hadn't been. Until he'd decided to hide me in the shadows like some dirty mistake, not taking my thoughts or feelings into account. Until I'd silently let him put me in the corner, and tried to convince myself that it had been the best thing for our relationship. I'd felt so used and mistreated those few weeks after Italy, and speaking out had been my way of getting my life, my control back.
But it meant losing the exact thing I was fighting for. Because it turned out, Killian hadn't wanted to fight for us the same way I had.
I wiped an errant tear that had slid onto my jawline. The things he'd said to me, about me. Jesus. We'd moved way past that, I'd told him I loved him for fucks sake. And he fired back with the most hurtful things he could think of.
I knew he was trying to push me away, that he was scared. But I was done being with men who couldn't own their shit, who cared way too much about what other people thought of them or the life they led. I deserved someone who would walk through fire, go to hell and back, climb god damn Everest for me. And until I had that, I was fine being on my own.
But it didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.
Landing at Will Rogers World Airport was a surreal experience. I was excited to see my family after so much time away, and to get off that god damn plane. But I was also sad. I would truly miss London, its lifestyle and all of the differences about Europe.
I wasn't surprised to see the paparazzi swarming the exit as I ran to my mom and dad and hugged them. And I couldn't help but shed a few tears as my mom threw her arms around me. I'd forgotten what it was like to be held by the one person in the world who loved you unconditionally.
Flashbulbs went off in my face, and I cursed myself for breaking down here. There would be headlines online in no time talking about me being home, away from Killian and in tears. Too bad he had already broken the break up news to the tabloids by appearing at a club in Camden with a half naked brunette. My heart still stung like someone had sliced it and poured salt over the open wound each time I thought about that picture.
My parents loaded me into the car with Delilah and Katie chattering in my ear about everything.
I tuned it out as the big van rattled along through the streets of Oklahoma, the landscape so different than the tall white buildings of my neighborhood in Paddington.
I hadn't spoken to Killian since the day I walked out. He hadn't called and neither had I. I didn't know if I expected him to, he was so stubborn, but I hadn't been the one to do anything wrong and I wasn't going to take the blame. We technically hadn't even called things off, but I knew once I left London and he'd been photographed with another woman, we were done.
"Welcome home, sweetie!" Mom turned around from the front seat and smiled at me as we pulled into the driveway, the same blond white hair she'd given me hanging in front of her eyes.
While Delilah and I had gotten mom's blonde hair and fair coloring, Katie was all dad with the honey brown locks and olive skin. We were quite a clan.
I stared up at our two story craftsman as I got out of the van, thinking how small it looked. I hadn't been here in five months, and something just felt off. This didn't feel like the place I belonged anymore. Sure, you can come home, but what they don't tell you is that sometimes, it will no longer feel like it.
* * *
I'd been home for two days when Jaycee finally came to rescue me from my cave.
"Get up bitch."
Someone smacked me hard in the face with a pillow, eliciting a curse and a grumble from me as I turned over in bed.
"Go away, I have jet lag."
"Nice try. Last time I checked, jet lag wasn't heartbreak. Now get the fuck up, we're going out."
I opened one eye, taking in my best friend's appearance. Jaycee was about three inches shorter than me with mahogany brown curls. She had the rack and ass I'd give anything to get, and the clearest blue eyes. Right now they were making me think of Killian, and I wanted to die.
"Where are we going?"
"Dress shopping. For graduation. Or have you been doing research on the latest NFL wives’ fashion?” She smirked. She'd always hated how he treated me in those last years.
I groaned. I'd almost forgotten about graduation. "Do I even have to go?"
"What, and make me sit alone? Yes, you're going. Don't let another man rule your life, Watsy."
She was right, I'd cried enough.
"Alright. But you're driving. I think I'd crash a car at this point I haven't been behind the wheel in so long, or even on the right side of the road."
Jaycee and I went downtown where some new, trendy boutiques were, ones that had popped up since I was gone. We made it a girl's day, something I hadn't realized I'd needed until she had dragged me out. We laughed, gossiped and played around with clothes and jewelry all day.
I ended up picking a soft pink hi-low dress that hugged my middle and flared out past my thighs. Jaycee picked a tight teal bodycon dress. No surprise there.
"So, is he the one?" She finally brought up Killian as we strolled through downtown with Frappucinos in our hands.
I stayed silent for a moment, thinking it over in my head. "He could have been."
"What happened, Wats?"
I didn't know if I was ready to get into everything just yet. I didn't know if I ever would be. "I loved him and he didn't love me. Not enough. Isn't that what it always boils down to?"
* * *
On graduation day we sat in the 15th row, two small fishes in the sea of 5,000. I was actually glad she'd forced me to go, even if it was just for my parent's benefit. It was also a testament at how far I'd come, how much I'd accomplished on my own in the past couple of months.
As I hugged my friends goodbye and started to make my way to where my family stood in the parking lot, I heard a voice behind me.
"Watsy..."
I turned and blinked at the person in front of me.
I hadn't seen Taylor in over six months, yet it was as if my brain had memorized his image. It should have, we'd been together for so long that I was half of him at one point. But it struck me that he no longer knew me, and I didn't know him. He was practically a stranger now. It was odd the way the heart remembered someone so completely, yet the brain never forgot how much time had passed since you'd meant something, everything, to each other.
"Hi Taylor."
We stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do.
"Congrats...on graduating. I didn't know you were back." He stared into my eyes as if the words he was trying to say should mean something more, something different.
"Thank you. You too." I didn't want to do this small talk.
"Listen, Leah...I'm...I'm really sorry about how things went down. I never...I never wanted us to end up like this. I made a mistake."
I didn't hesitate. "I know you did, Taylor."
He was stunned at my bluntness, but then again he didn't know me anymore. "Can we maybe grab a coffee sometime? Talk?"
I didn't have to think about that one either. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Listen, I accept your apology and I don't have any hard feelings anymore. But I'm also not open to having a relationship, or even a friendship again. We had some great years together and I think we should leave it at that."
Taylor's face dropped and he chewed on his lip. He wasn't moving, so I put a hand on his shoulder.
"Good luck in the NFL, Taylor."
And for the second time in a month, I walked away from a man I would have laid down my life for at one point.
27
Killian
In the off season you can usually find me on a yacht or in the gym.
For the past two years I've commissioned a charter around the Canary Islands, inviting swanky guests and hot women to join me. I've also gotten my arse bloody handed to me by my trainer, trying to get my rapidly aging body in shape to compete against the young squirts coming into the league.
Since I'd gotten suspended and the season ended, however, I'd done nothing but sit on my ass
and drink specially aged bottles of Macallan. No yachts. No working out.
And I’d been counting the days since Leah left.
I know I'm a wanker. That I know. I'm a coward, a pussy, a scared shell of a man with no accountability and no regard for anyone. I know all of this.
But for her, I wish I could have been so much more.
I swirled the bottle in my hand, watching the amber liquid swirl and whirlpool to the bottom of the thick glass. I stared through it, seeing my picture and hers flash across the screen with the word "Donezo" stamped across it.
I sat up if only just to stare at her face behind the letters. God she was so fucking beautiful. I missed her so much that I laid in bed at night shaking and gasping for air, like a junkie trying to detox.
It was no one's fault but my own. I'd thrown such ugly and untrue accusations at her because I'd been too much of a coward to say fuck it all and just be with her. I was too caught up in the media storm, what the public thought, instead of what I truly should have been focused on. Her.
She'd said she loved me. My heart hurt thinking about it. I'd never said it back, and I would regret that every single day for the rest of my miserable life. Because I loved her so much that if I thought about it for one second, really honed in on that thought, I'd die. Because I'd also lost her.
I hadn't even tried to contact her before she left, my ignorant and stubborn pride having me believe she was in the wrong. I'd even gone out with a daft brunette just because I knew she'd see the story in the papers. Except the day after she left I had a bit of a breakdown. I'd gone on a two week bender, obliterating my senses so I wouldn't have to be conscious. Jimmy had nearly taken me to rehab until I'd calmed down a bit.
That's when I started calling her. And texting her. And emailing her. Fuck, I'd done everything but send a carrier pigeon.
And she hadn't responded. Not one peep, not even one hint that she'd even gotten my messages.
The commentators on the TV started talking about us on a panel, as if our relationship had been some sort of political standoff.
"He never even came out and said he was in a relationship with her. Can we really believe her words?"
I sat up straighter.
Jesus.
Bloody Christ.
I hadn't ever confirmed our relationship, not the way Leah had. I'd never even come out and said she was my girlfriend, much less that I loved her. Because I’d told her I didn’t want to. Because I was too much of a twit, a scared little wanker to say fuck it all and hold my girlfriend’s hand in public.
And suddenly I knew what I had to do. The last ditch effort to get the woman who made my life worth living back.
* * *
The production assistant, a young blonde girl, kept fiddling with my mic on the collar of the suit jacket I wore. I knew she was trying to hit on me when she grazed her knuckles over the bare skin on my collarbone for the second time.
"I think that's enough." I said a bit too brusquely. She fluttered her eyelashes at me before I shot her a glare, at which point she dropped her head and walked away.
I sighed. It was bad enough I was about to jump out of my skin, I didn't need girls throwing themselves at me.
"You're sure you want to do this?" Jimmy looked up from his phone and saw my pale face.
I nodded. "I have to. It’s the only chance I have at getting her back."
"I don't disagree, mate. I'm proud of you." He clapped a big hand on my shoulder and walked to stand behind the cameras so he could watch the interview on the monitor.
I sat in the BBC studios across from Harold Canar, the bloke who is always interviewing celebrities on deep personal issues. Fuck no, I didn't want to do this. But I had to.
I realized I'd never given a concrete answer to the world about what Leah and I were. She'd been forthcoming, said she loved me, and I'd never responded. So now it was time that I did.
"Alright, we're going live in 10 seconds."
Harold nodded at me, not a smug smile on his face but not a warm one either. He knew how great this was for his career, and he was going to try and bludgeon me if I let him.
The producer started a countdown and then pointed silently to Harold.
"Good evening, I'm Harold Canar. Tonight, we sit down with British football's bad boy, Killian Ramsey. With a career and talent that started from a very young age, he worked his way through the ranks to become one of the most decorated and winning football players in English Premier League history. After the tragic death of his wife Eve five years ago, Mr. Ramsey has remained somewhat of a mystery to the public, besides his late nights and wild party ways. But did an American girl steal his heart, or was it all just for show? We'll find out tonight."
I heard music echo somewhere in the background and I fidgeted in the white armchair I sat in. All of the studio lights were getting to me, the sweat trickling down the inside of my black suit.
"And we're back in three, two..." The producer again pointed silently at Harold.
He put on a megawatt grin. "Killian, so good to have you here."
I could play this game right back. "Good to be here, Harold. Thank you for having me."
"So let's start with an easy one then. What has it been like to have such a successful career?"
I smiled, having come up with this canned answer years ago. "Football is my life, it's what I have wanted ever since I was nine years old. Being able to excel at it, to learn from some of the best players and coaches in the world, it has been indescribable. I am just really lucky I've been able to stay in the game as long as I have."
"Any thought when you might retire?"
"Oh, Harold, I'm not dead yet. I'm just 30! No, I think I have a few years left in me." Bastard.
"Now let's get to some of the things that people really want to know. Five years ago, you were married. Tell me about that."
My stomach twisted. God rest Eve's soul, but she would want me to be happy. To do this for Leah. "Eve and I met and it was love at first sight. She was the kind of woman every single person loved. Funny, vivacious, beautiful, smart. We had a great life together. And then things weren't so great, and I won't go in to why because I choose to respect her memory. But she decided to end her life, as many of you know."
He put on a thoughtful face. "And how did that affect you?"
God I hated interviews. "It was hard, the most unimaginable thing that could ever happen to someone. I loved my wife so completely, and when she was gone it was like she ripped my soul in half and took a part of me with her. It was made even harder by all of the false and negative stories that circulated. It’s why I retreated into myself."
I wasn’t going to talk about the baby. What had happened, what we lost, that was between Eve and I. No one had the right to know about our tragedy, to fakely mourn or grieve over the thing that had almost killed me. And actually killed her.
Harold folded his hands in his laps. "You're saying that's why your personal life became such a mystery?"
"Yes. If I couldn't control the story, I didn't even want to try. The things they said about me and my wife, they were abominable. Horrendous. I didn't want to let anyone close enough for anything like that to happen again."
"Until recently that is." He didn't ask a question, just stared, expecting me to open up about Leah. That's fine, old man, that's what I came here to do.
"Right. As most of the country, and the world, knows, I met someone."
"Tell us a little about Leah Watson."
I paused, wanting to gather my thoughts."Leah is...incredible. Special. Smart. Sassy. And obviously she's beautiful, everyone knows that. But Leah is just so different. She's an amazing publicist, she really has a knack for people and how to get them to be their best self. She's also hilarious with this sort of American charm that us Brits just don't have."
"And you had a relationship with her? Other than your working one?"
"Yes. Leah and I were exclusive, dating, boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever title you wan
t to slap on it. We kept our relationship professional when it needed to be, but for the first time since Eve died, I had found someone who lit up my life like it hadn't been in years. I wasn't letting a silly little issue like working together get in the way of that."
"You said were. Were dating, were exclusive."
I sighed and dropped my head. "Well, yes. After those pictures leaked from Italy, which was a huge invasion of privacy for us both, I had a bit of a meltdown. I wasn't ready to come out to the public with what we had, because of how negatively that impacted Eve and everything after her death. I didn't want that for Leah ever. I was scared and it was selfish on my part, but I couldn’t risk it.”
"But you were in love with her?" Harold leaned forward in his seat, anticipating me not answering the question.
"Yes. I still am. I love her very much. And even though she might hate my guts, I had to admit to everyone who has been so up front with their opinions about her and our relationship. We are just two people who fell in love, who were looking for that one person who could be our forever mate. And we found each other."
I think at that point Harold knew the interview was done, so he signed off with his usual parting and the cameras shut down.
"Thanks for coming today Killian. Sincerely, I've always admired your career. I wish you all the best.” Harold stuck out his hand.
I shook it. "Thank you for letting me tell our story."
And now it was time to go get that forever mate.
Jimmy came to hand me the small suitcase I'd brought. "Time for you to get on a plane."
28
Leah
“Have you called him?”
Jaycee stared at me, turning over to tan her back. I’d always been envious of the way her skin turned a buttery brown in the summer. Mine just turned an awful shade of red and then transformed into a blanket of freckles.
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