Gwen didn’t waste any time heading over. She was outside my place in a little over ten minutes.
“The diner? They always make good breakfasts. And I have a craving for a milkshake.”
“Your choice,” I answered as I put my seat belt on. She drove to the American-style diner that we’d been to plenty of times. Formica tables and faux leather booths, all that was missing were waitresses on roller skates.
We ordered a full English breakfast each, hers with a milkshake, mine with a large tea.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Bull shit, jerk face. You look like shit.”
“Bad night.”
“What? Seamus won. What happened between the time I left you and this morning?”
I hadn’t told Gwen about Astrid. There wasn’t anything to say. But after our conversation, things felt raw. “I spoke to Astrid last night.”
“Who’s Astrid, and what kind of name is that, anyway. If you tell me she’s a stripper, I have no sympathy, man.”
She was laughing at me, and it fucking pissed me off. “Cut it out, kid. She’s important to me. Or she was. Is. Hell, it’s kinda fucked up.”
“So, not a stripper.”
The waitress delivered our drinks, and I dumped a load of sugar in my tea. “Not a stripper. She runs her own company, and she’s pretty amazing.”
“Ohhhh,” Gwen’s eyes rolled around in an exaggerated way. “You like her.”
“And?” I frowned.
“And nothing. But you’ve never mentioned a girl to me before.”
“And you’ve never talked about a guy before. Perhaps we’re growing up.”
“You’re bloody prickly this morning. If this is what talking to Astrid does to you, hell, you’ve got it bad.”
I chucked a sachet of sugar at her, not wanting her to state the obvious. I already knew I’d fallen hard for the girl. It was a shame things weren’t going to work out for us, though.
I needed to change the subject. All this talk of Astrid made me miss her more. “Do you go to a gym?” I asked. I needed to get back into a routine, and my routines always started with keeping fit. I’d not even been for a run since being back, and I had to change that.
“No. And what’s wrong with your old gym?”
“Zuri.”
“It’s not actually his gym.”
“No, but no contact is better, and there’s no way I wouldn’t see him there.”
“And? What are you worried about?”
She had a point. Why was I worrying? He’d seen me. He knew I was back.
“Temptation, I guess.” The vow I’d made to do the right thing was a lot harder than I thought it would be. But then, that shouldn’t have been a surprise, should it?
“Look, I know what happened to Mads was fucking terrible. But that doesn’t mean you’ll end up the same.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what? Spell it out. I’m not a kid, you know.” She levelled me with a glare that told me she was deadly serious.
“Look, Mads got in deep. He made decisions he shouldn’t have, and I didn’t do anything to stop him. I was his best friend, but when it mattered, I didn’t do my job. I promised myself I’d never do that again—that I’d make the right choice. Do the right thing.”
“We’re talking about you going back to the gym, right?” she joked.
“Yes, but I want you to have the full picture. I went back into the ring after Mads. And I choked. Badly. That’s why I left.” I ran away—the words sounded in my head, but I didn’t utter them to Gwen.
“Give yourself a break. Your best mate died. It doesn’t sound like you’re making any bad choices here. You know the risks, and you’re avoiding them. Cut yourself some slack.”
The waitress delivered our plates of food.
“Now, eat up, and this afternoon we can go to the bar and watch the game. Joey’s off, so he’ll be meeting us.” She sliced into a rasher of bacon and loaded it with egg and beans.
Maybe I was getting too worked up over everything. Gwen had a point. What was the worst thing that could happen if I ran into Zuri?
I decided to wait until mid-morning to head to the gym. Zuri was usually there either in the morning or evening, so I had the best chance of avoiding him. Gwen’s words had given me plenty to think over, and she had a point. Zuri couldn’t force me into anything I didn’t want to do.
The familiar, well-worn carpet tiles in the entrance and faint smell of lemon cleaner greeted me as I went in. I grabbed a locker and headed to warm up. I had to admit, it felt good to be back here. It was easy to fall into my old training routine, and I was lifting the free weights before the final round at the bag.
“You look sloppy.”
That slightly accented voice came from one person alone.
“I’m just here to work out.”
“Doesn’t mean you not sloppy.”
I put the bar down and sat up on the chest-press bench.
“What do you want, Zuri?”
“Is that the way you treat an old friend?”
“I seem to remember you weren’t that happy with me the last time we spoke.” A vision of his purpled face shot to mind.
“It was too soon. You were not ready. I see that.” He crossed his arms over his barrelled chest.
“I told you. I’m out. I’m not fighting again.”
“Hear me out.”
“No.”
“Easy fight. Nothing hard.”
A jolt of anger sparked all my aggression, and it only had one target.
“I said, no!” I stood up to Zuri, eyeballing him and breathing hard.
“You still have it.” He grinned as if all he needed was to prove a point.
“Fucker. Leave me alone.”
“You owe me. One fight. Make it up, and then quit.”
“I don’t believe you.” I shook my head at him, clenching my fists into balls and wrestling to keep them at my side. He had no right to ask me this.
“We have time. You are not ready. One fight. Then you out. When I get my money.” This time it was Zuri who squared off to me.
“Send me the details. I’m not agreeing yet.”
“You will.” Zuri turned around and left. Suddenly, working out was the last thing I wanted to do.
Fuck.
I’d only ever been here once before, and it was raining then, too. Figured.
I pulled my hood up to shield some of the icy pellets that seemed so determined to infiltrate and soak me through.
Maddison’s grave still had flowers resting on the headstone. The grey marble, new and unblemished stood out in stark contrast to many of the other graves that were old with years of dirt and grime. For the first time in a while, I thought about Grace and Oliver. God, being back here dredged the memories I’d been trying to forget right back to the surface. I’d forgotten the sorrow that surrounded me here.
Standing here now, all I could see was the replay of Maddison falling to the floor and the sound of Grace’s scream as she found him.
Moving to London had given me the distance to bury my demons, at least for a little while. But they weren’t gone. And I doubted they would ever go, but perhaps I could learn to tame them?
“Hey, man.” The words came out as a choked whisper more than anything. “Look.” I coughed, clearing my throat. “I need you to speak up here. Help me out. Because I really don’t know what the fuck to do for the best.”
Of course, there would be no second side to this conversation. But I hoped that coming here would make it easier for me to decide—to turn down Zuri’s offer. After all, one more match was what Maddison was always looking for. Who was to say Zuri would stop after I’d paid my dues? Would it really be one last time? And what if I choked again—I didn’t relish the prospect of getting the shit kicked out of me for a second time.
“I miss you, man. So fucking much.” A wave of emotion overloaded me, and I turned my ey
es away from the gravestone, taking in the churchyard around me.
I’d been lost after Maddison’s death. It was easy to see now. And I guess, I still was—not really sure what direction I wanted to go with anything in my life. I thought coming here would give me the answers I needed. Not just about Zuri and stepping back into the ring, but the rest of my life.
Didn’t I owe it to Maddison to live mine to its fullest? Instead, I was stumbling through and making do.
I changed the subject, before the guilt and grief sunk in too deep. “I met a girl. She’s pretty special. Her name’s Astrid.”
My words dried up, and I shifted my weight from foot to foot.
“I’m sorry, man. I need to do better. And I will. I promise.”
I left feeling like the worse friend in the world. But it gave me the perspective I needed.
Zuri. I’m in. On the condition that it’s one fight and that’s all. I need a payout. 15k minimum and then we call it quits. That’s the deal.
You are not the one to call the shots.
If you want to make your money back, it’s this or nothing.
6 weeks. You be in shape. Don’t fuck this up.
Not planning to.
Seeing Maddison had given me the kick I needed. He was my conscience even if I couldn’t hear him all the time.
I got back to my place and opened up Google. Time to put the only thing I’d been good at to better use. Maybe I’d be able to give Matthew those lessons after all.
18
Astrid
I triple checked all of the links, the website addresses, the preview, and then scheduled the distribution. It was done. My latest edition would be winging its way to inboxes across the country in a few hours.
Usually, this gave me a sense of achievement—I’d accomplished another month and won at my goal of running my own business. Yet, the spark of excitement was missing. Nothing had felt that rosy since the fight with Leo and then with Sawyer.
Sawyer and I had made up—sort of. At least, we were still talking, and our regular girls’ night had resumed with Belle. Sawyer had asked me not to fill Belle in on all of the sordid details. She said that it was humiliating for another person to know that she had no money—it was telling that that was the part of her story she’d be humiliated by, not the part where she was taking money in exchange for sex.
But, of course, what Sawyer wanted, Sawyer got. So, my lips were sealed.
As for Leo… I missed him. And I’d never missed anyone in my life. I wasn’t even sure what it was that I missed. We’d only been together for a handful of hours, yet those minutes seemed to have seeped into my very core and rooted themselves deeply as if preparing to grow something magical—the seeds of our future, perhaps?
At night, I thought it might be the prospect of what might have been that I missed more than him, but then I’d close my eyes and see him staring back at me with those golden orbs of warmth that could bathe you in sunlight when he looked at you, even in the dead of winter.
Whatever.
We’d not been in touch since our conversation, and I wasn’t going to be the one to reach out and plead with him to come back to London. He’d left. He knew where I was and how to contact me. And maybe he would just be my ‘what if’ guy. Everyone had one, right?
As I thought it, I stretched to grab the next two edition notebooks from the shelf. The ’what if’ of our life could be a nice feature.
As I sat back down, I was attacked by a roll of nausea. I steadied myself and took a glance at the clock. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and I’d not stopped since breakfast. Note to self: don’t forget to eat.
Belle wasn’t due round until just before six. We’d taken to meeting prior to seeing Sawyer. I hated keeping anything from Belle, but I knew she’d have a hard time accepting Sawyer’s behaviour. And mine and Belle’s friendship had become much stronger—more aligned.
My kitchen had been feeling neglected of late. There was little in the fridge except for orange juice, milk, and some cheese. That wasn’t me. I was never like this and added more evidence to the fact that I was missing Leo. And that just stoked my frustrations all the more.
I slammed the door on the fridge as if it personally caused this situation, and grabbed my bag and wrapped up with my giant scarf. It would take half-an-hour to pop to the corner store and grab some essentials, including a bottle of Belle’s favourite wine and a bottle of Coke. We always raised a glass to my latest publication, and just because I was in a shitty mood, the tradition shouldn’t slip.
Even though Belle had a key, just like Sawyer, she only ever used it to reach my front door. I’d just put the dishes away from my grilled chicken salad when she knocked.
“Perfect timing.” I opened the door. “The wine is in the fridge, and I’m ready to pour my Malibu.”
“Great. And please tell me the heat is on? It’s Baltic out there.” Belle came in and was visibly shaking with cold. Her hair was tidily plaited in an elaborate French braid today.
I set to pouring our drinks, although if I was honest, the last thing I fancied was alcohol. That funny turn earlier hadn’t shifted with my late lunch, but I smiled through it.
“Cheers.” We clinked glasses.
“Are we meeting at Sawyer’s again later?” Belle asked as she sipped her wine.
“Yep.”
“Has she gone off going out, or something? This is the third time in a row.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m happy with it, just as long as she doesn’t insist I drink wine again.”
“I guess.” Belle didn’t look convinced. She had a point. Sawyer had a lavish streak, which had been moderated considerably by her circumstances, but Belle didn’t know that. “Hey, have you heard any more from Leo?” Her romantic enthusiasm was missing from her tone. I’d told her the details of our conversation, and yet she still had lovesick notions in her head.
“No, Belle. Just…”
“Matthew’s going to visit him. Said he’d been messaging with him a fair bit.”
“Really?” I tried not to sound interested and failed miserably.
“Said he was going in a few weeks. Something to do with his new job venture or something.”
I nodded and looked around the room, anywhere but at Belle, who was staring at me as if she was monitoring even the smallest of reactions to this news.
“What? Belle. We were together for all of five minutes. We’re over.”
“Oh, come on. We both know that the only reason you aren’t together is because of the couple of hundred miles in between you.”
“Don’t forget the arguments.”
“Really? Arguments?”
“It’s not been plain sailing, Belle. Stop dressing this up as something it’s not.”
“Stop it. You sound like Sawyer.”
“Maybe she had a point. I still don’t know much about the guy.” I took a gulp of my Malibu.
“I know you don’t mean that. Why don’t we go and visit? Find out for sure.”
“Find out for sure, what?”
“If you two are really over.”
I stood up, fed up with the conversation already. “Um, believe me, we’re over. He left. End of story. Come on, or we’ll be late.”
For the rest of the night, Belle’s suggestion refused to vanish from my thoughts. I wasn’t going to run off and see him, no matter how much my heart beat faster when I considered that plan in my mind. It was something I’d just have to live with.
The morning screeched its arrival with the sound of my alarm, but all I wanted to do was slam the thing off and get another few hours sleep. I’d felt terrible since getting back home last night and even wondered if I hadn’t cooked the chicken correctly.
My productivity had been lacking lately, thanks to my stupid heart, and I had a number of deadlines this week. Part of being my own boss was that I had to be determined for myself. I couldn’t not show up. So, I forced my body upright but regretted it the moment I was vertical. The
swirling sensation took over, and my mouth began to salivate far too quickly. The first cramp hit and spurred my feet directly to the bathroom, where my knees hit the floor, and I shoved my head into the toilet bowl just as I retched my guts up.
Shit.
It passed quickly. As soon as I cleared my stomach, I felt better. Or at least good enough to give standing up another go. Everything stayed in place, and there wasn’t any spinning this time.
I’d not been sick for… years. In fact, unless it was the odd over-enthusiastic evening with the girls, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been physically sick.
I rinsed and then scrubbed my teeth to get the acid taste from my mouth before heading to the kitchen for my regular routine. Except I wasn’t hungry and there was no way I’d be able to push my body into running.
My skin felt clammy like I had a temperature, and I headed right back to the bathroom. The mirror over the sink didn’t paint the best of portraits. Maybe I was really sick… but then another explanation dawned, and sent a bolt of terror through me, enough to send me leaning back over the toilet for round two.
No, no, no… I was not that unlucky. I was on the pill. It was fine, and I’d had a period just… My brain scrambled to think of the days, but I couldn’t remember when I last had my monthly visit. It would have been before Leo.
Shit.
The temperature I was breaking out in was justified. There was no way I could be pregnant. My stomach rolled at the thought alone.
I chucked on my jeans and the first top I came to from my wardrobe and left to go and put my mind at rest. Pregnancy tests were reliable and could tell you immediately. And there was no way I could cope a minute longer than I needed.
The wind and rain soon took my temperature down. I’d rushed from the house too fast and forgotten to grab my coat. It didn’t matter. I’d be back in a few minutes, and I could calm down and take a duvet day. One wouldn’t hurt, especially after the stress of this.
Blush: A Strangers-to-Lovers Romance Page 14