As people started walking out for lunch, Alex sought out Peter as his desk. "I might go home," she said. "I've got a bit of a headache.”
"Alright then," he said without arguing. That might actually had made her feel worse—like he’d given up on her.
Smiling tightly, she turned and went back to her desk, gathering her bag and umbrella to leave.
The midday commute home just seemed wrong. It felt wrong to be out of the office this time of day. Instead of going home, she went to McDonalds and had a big greasy meal which made her feel even worse.
It was the longest ride home she could remember.
* * *
Chapter 15:
* * *
The incessant pounding in Marco's head was inescapable, and the bright light from the window speared his eyes, even through his eyelids.
He had no recollection of where he'd been or what he'd done. Searching his mind, he tried to think of what had happened the previous night, but his memory remained stubbornly blank, even as he knew something good had happened. He hadn't felt this sick for a long time. The contract—he'd won it. A rush of excitement flowed through him. The celebration had gone on well into the night and he'd partied hard, flushed with excitement and victory. The boys had come out and they'd hit the bars around Piccadilly, with the tourists and the party girls.
Groaning, he sat up. He felt awful, but the excitement of his victory buzzed through his body, cut through by a thought of Alex. She would have found out by now. He knew how she'd badly wanted that contract, but she had known they were both going for the same business when they'd gotten together. This contract was the making of him at Jamieson and Poole. It garnered him attention from the bosses and heralded his arrival to the industry.
Dragging himself out of bed, he had a shower to clear his head. He still had no idea how the night had ended up, but somehow he'd managed to find his way home. He hated waking up in a strange bed and would strive to make his way home, no matter how drunk he was. Luckily, he hadn't turned up at Alex's door. There was always a distinct risk of that happening as he did still think about her. Yesterday he'd sat for a good half hour at work uhming and ahing about whether he should say something about the contract, like saying he was sorry it hadn't gone her way. Well, he couldn't really be sorry about winning it, but he was sorry that she had lost and was probably feeling crap about it.
He supposed it would be more complicated if they were still a couple. Last night would have been infinitely more complicated. That was definitely the upside to their split. If they were still together, he wouldn't be able to mention anything about his work or how things were going, without rubbing it in her face, and he should be able to celebrate his victories with his girlfriend.
He certainly didn't mind being single again, not having to constantly worry that he did or said something wrong, or having to worry about the direction her expectations were going. He would miss her, but it was better this way. Things were just too complicated between them, particularly now that the contract had been resolved. It would be nice if they could be on good terms though. He still cared about her and maybe when things settled down a bit, they could hang out again.
An old fashioned café down the road served a good English breakfast, and Marco walked there with Dion.
"You don't remember going to Battersea?"
"No," Marco said. "What the hell were we doing in Battersea?"
"We met those South African girls, remember? We went to this club there, filled with hotties in tight outfits. It was an awesome night.”
They must have hit the whiskey last night, or he would remember something of it. He dreaded what he'd done to his bank account, but it was better not to think about it. "I don't remember a damned thing.”
"Well, you had a good time.”
Dion was quite a slow eater and once Marco had forced down as much of his breakfast as he could manage, he checked his Facebook. Apparently, Sarah had been with them last night and she had loaded up a photo of them drinking, one of Jordan, an English guy that sometimes came out with her, passed out on a sofa at a club, and one of Marco kissing some girl with bleach blond hair and more makeup than needed.
Instantly, Marco felt panic rise up his spine. That photo was on Facebook and Alex would see it, or probably already had. Because Sarah had loaded it up, he couldn't even hide it by unlinking his name to it; Alex would see it anyway.
Drawing in breath, he rationalised for a moment. They were broken up. She had refused to consider doing anything but break up, so she had no right to get upset if he got on with it. He was a single guy and kissing random girls in clubs wasn't completely out of line.
"You alright?" Dion asked. "You look a bit green.”
"Just the hangover," Marco said and put his phone away. Sometimes it was just better to ignore Facebook, the permanent record of social activity. His timeline was filthy with photos of him and Alex and now one of him drunk, kissing some random girl. If all and sundry didn't know he and Alex had broken up, they would know now. Not that anyone really cared. It wasn't the end of the world. People hooked up and broke up all the time; it was the ebb and flow of life.
Letting his mind wander where it shouldn't, he wondered if Alex was pissed at him. She might be out and about already this morning, being more of a morning person than he was. She loved Saturday morning and always wanted to do something by around ten. He wondered what she was doing. She liked cooking on Saturday mornings, pancakes in particularly. He would miss Saturday mornings; they were the sweetest part of their relationship, even when he had a bit of a hangover, which was probably more often than he liked to admit.
"You ready?" Dion asked.
"Yeah.”
Getting up, they walked back home as London got on with its business around them. Still feeling a bit queasy, Marco was glad he had nothing more planned than sitting on the couch for a while, watching sports and maybe a bit of Xbox, even if his reaction time was impaired at the moment. Marco waited outside as Dion went into Ladbrokes and put a bet on the upcoming game between Australia and New Zealand. It was a big game and they would all be watching it live that night.
The pub was busy in the afternoon and the day had turned out quite nice. It was early spring and there was a sense of it in the air. The whole city seemed to feel it and people were out, enjoying the atmosphere of the city. Apparently, there was some kind of fair going on in Notting Hill, but they weren't going. Marco was sure Alex would be. She loved special events in the city, flocking there with the crowd, and he used to follow wherever she went.
Sitting back, he watched the golden bubbles form, release and meander their way to the froth of his beer. He was feeling better now, after a few hours on the couch. A quiet beer at the pub was on the cards and Marco felt relaxed. The boys had gathered and they were having a nice afternoon. The plan was to go for a curry that evening.
This was what he was supposed to be doing; why he'd come to London. Not to traipse around some fair in an area on the other side of the city, looking at crafts and farmers' markets. Alex had felt like a distraction, a detour he hadn't intended on making. He'd seen her and he just couldn't help himself. Everything about her had drawn him, away from his friends and towards things he'd tolerated to be with her, just to please her. That disastrous Christmas vacation. He'd liked being with her, but it was just boring. Their relationship had lacked balance and he'd felt like a fish out of water the entire time, incorporated into her sweet, soft world. He was concerned that he might be incompatible with girls. It used to be fine; they seemed to be into the same things, but things were changing. The girls were changing and it were just getting hard.
Rachel showed up and sat down, wearing a dress.
"What are you all dressed up for?" Dion asked.
"We're going to see a play. The Mouse Trap. It's famous. Agatha Christie. Wanna come?"
"No!" Dion said, but then reined in his distaste. "Sorry, rugby and curry on the cards.”
Rachel took a sip of h
er wine and looked around the pub.
"Who're you going with?" Marco asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
"The girls," she said. It didn't really answer his question. "And Alex," she said after a while. "She should be here any minute.”
Marco felt his body tightened with nervousness. He hadn't seen her since Crete. Maybe seeing her so shortly after that photo on Facebook wasn't a good idea. He wondered if he should take off, but he didn't have time to actually do anything, because she just walked through the door. She looked good, wearing grey jeans, a suit jacket and sunglasses.
Spotting them, she walked over. "Hey," she said to the group in general. There was definitely a sense of awkwardness as everyone tried to gauge his reaction.
"Hey," he said and she smiled tightly without really looking at him.
"We should go," she said to Rachel, "in case it's really busy on the tube.”
"Yeah, let's go," Rachel said and stood up, putting on her jacket.
"Have fun," Dion said, only slightly revealing his sarcasm. A play was obviously Dion's version of hell.
As they were about to leave, Alex turned to him. "Congratulations on the contract," she said and turned away. He could see the hurt pride in her eyes.
"Alex," he called, but she ignored him and kept walking. Getting out of his chair, he marched after her. "Alex," he repeated.
"What?"
Suddenly, he didn't know what to say. He'd just reacted. "I'm sorry it didn't work out for you.”
"Well, it couldn't have worked out for both of us, so congratulations.” There was none of the softness or welcome that he used to receive from her. He was definitely not welcome anymore. Turning again, she hooked arms with Rachel and they started walking towards the tube station.
Drawing his hand through his hair, he wanted to call her back, but had nothing to say. He didn’t like that they were on bad terms. It felt wrong. There was still an impulse in him to fix something when she was unhappy.
Anger flowed through him. She had done this. He'd just wanted to talk, but she had refused; had just cut him off like he was troublesome. If she had appreciated this relationship, she would have tried harder to fix it. But he knew it was bullshit; he had broken them off and that had been his intent, even if he hadn't been able to fully admit it at the time. It was unfair to blame this on her. The anger subsided as quickly as it had come. Maybe he just needed to accept that they weren't going to be friends, not straight away—perhaps never.
* * *
Chapter 16:
* * *
Getting through the bustling morning commute seemed harder than ever, although Alex knew it was her mood. She had failed at work and she had failed in her relationship—her confidence had taken a bit of a knock. At least the pitying looks at work had started to dissipate as her loss was now old news and people moved on. The pitying looks from her friends were a bit more resilient.
She felt like she needed to do something, but she couldn't think what. When her relationship with Gavin was going south, she had her work to turn to, but work was more worry than solace at the moment.
She had been placed as support for this pan-European account for a tire company and it was good to have something to focus her attention on. People weren't questioning her competence or anything, but she was now on the slow road. She didn't know exactly what this meant, and she needed to find out.
At the end of the day, she followed some of her colleagues that were going across the road to the pub and she joined Peter at the bar, not exactly knowing how to ask what she wanted to.
"What is it? I can tell you are mustering up the courage. Are you going to ask me out?" he said.
"What? No!"
"Come on. You know you want to.”
"Wouldn't Kate be upset?"
"Who?"
Alex just groaned. "I wanted to know," she started, trying to keep her voice down, "what this meant for my career?"
"Sleeping with me?" He was teasing her now. His eyes sparkled with amusement and Alex rolled hers. "It can't do you much worse than sleeping with the competition.”
"I wasn't …" she started, but technically she had been, if viewed in that harsh light. "It wasn't like that.”
"Sure it wasn't," Peter said and took a sip of his ale. He obviously didn't believe a word she said. "Some would question your judgement.”
"It really wasn't like that.”
"It wouldn't have been from your perspective, I'm sure, but I'm pretty certain it was from his.”
Alex felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Her relationship with Marco wasn't about the account—she would have known, would have sensed if someone was using her for such shallow purposes. The fact that they were competing for the same business had just been coincidental. Thinking something else was just too creepy. She had to dismiss the thought. Peter would assume that, because Peter would likely do something like that—he was just applying his moral compass on the world. "What is this going to do to my career?"
Peter watched her for a moment. "Nothing good.”
"How bad is it?"
"Depends on what you want?"
"Please don't be cryptic with me.”
"If you're going to stay in London, you might be better off losing this baggage and starting again with another firm. It will follow you, but it won't be as raw as staying. You are a little less employable because of it at the larger firms, but not at the smaller. If, on the other hand, you are going to head back to your hemisphere, it really doesn't matter.”
Alex absorbed what Peter was saying. She had to make a decision. She'd always felt like she was going home, but it was different being on a path that reduced her choices. Peter seemed to be watching her think. One mistake and she was out. It wasn't even a mistake; it just hadn't gone in her favour. If she was established, this wouldn't mean anything, but because it was her first, her tester account, it meant everything. She had the skills to make a damned good account manager, but because this one didn't work out, she was relegated to support, no matter the skills she had to offer for development. She had been deemed unworthy of development. "It's not fair.”
"Them are the stakes.”
She could rile at him for the unfairness, but he was only telling her the truth—something most other wouldn't. "Thank you, Peter," she said, feeling deflated but also relieved that she knew what her position was. She ended up doing that a bit, thanking him, even though he was unthank-worthy in most respects. Just part of the conundrum that was Peter.
Having gotten what she'd wanted, Alex left after quickly finishing the rest of her drink. The idea of Marco sleeping with her just to throw her off her game crept back in and sat like nausea in her stomach. He wasn't that cold and this wasn't some James Bond movie where an enemy agent was spying on her, hacking into her computer when she was in the shower—that was ridiculous.
She still cried when she got home as she couldn't escape the nausea and the feeling that everything had turned completely sour. One minute everything was fine and then it was all gone. She hadn't realised that could happen, but it had, leaving her with a profound sense of insecurity. She wasn't homeless or anything, so she made herself get over it—things could actually be much worse.
The spring rain started the next day and it wouldn't let up, just like Alex's horrible mood. Peter’s comments still reverberated through her head, no matter how hard she tried to dismiss them. The world wasn't like that and just because he saw it that way, didn't make it so, but she was starting to doubt herself, hating that she could have had it all wrong. It preyed on her mind until she had to know.
Walking over to the pub where she suspected she'd find him, she wasn't surprised when she spotted Marco through the window, sitting with Gavin, Dion and some of the other boys, having a sedate drink on a Thursday night.
"Hey," she said, interrupting the group.
"Alex!" Gavin said with surprise. "You've come for a drink?"
"No, just passing," she responded, standing there in her
trench coat with a dripping umbrella. "Can I talk to you for a sec?" she said to Marco.
"Of course," Marco said and got up. Alex led them outside into the covered entrance of the pub.
She didn't know how to start this conversation, wishing she didn't have to even have this discussion, but she needed to know. She felt like her perspective of the world was in jeopardy. She noted the other guys were watching them through the glass of the pub door.
"How've you been?" Marco asked.
"Good. There's this rumour going around that we were together just so you could have an edge on winning this contract.”
Marco's eyes hardened, considering her. "And you believe it?"
"I just want to hear what you have to say to it.”
"You know that's not true," he said pointedly. "I can't believe you would believe something like that.”
"It just looks kind of convenient that we got together shortly after the contract was in play, and broke up just before it concluded.”
"And therefore, I was using you to get ahead?"
Alex shrugged.
"That's nice, Alex. That way you can blame this all on me and don't have to take any responsibility in it. It would just be so convenient to make me out to be some villain in this piece. No, Alex, I didn't screw you just to get a contract. Maybe you will just have to accept that I won the contract purely by having a better product.” Marco pushed the door open and marched back into the pub. He was obviously pissed off being accused of being despicable.
At least he had denied it, but Alex was maybe ninety-five percent sure she believed him. She wanted to, but she suspected he would react in exactly the same angry way if it were true. It was the same angry reaction Gavin had had when she'd accused him of cheating, which had turned out to be true. Could guys simply not be trusted?
The Gamble (D'Arth Series Book 3) Page 10