by L. S. Pullen
“What? I can’t help it if she’s positively glowing.” I wink at her, giving her my best smile.
“Don’t I know it?” He grabs hold of her face and kisses her with abandonment, one that should probably be reserved for the privacy of their bedroom.
I shake my head, laughing. “Didn’t you two get enough of each other on the honeymoon?” I joke.
Flick pulls back, her cheeks rouge. Nate holds her around the waist while she leans back into him, his chin resting on the top of her shoulder.
“Was everything good while we were away?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Where’s Sophie?” Flick asks, nodding her head towards the car. Well shit. How am I going to explain this?
“Welcome back,” Sophie says, walking past me to give them both a hug.
Nate grabs the big suitcases while Flick and Soph grab some of the smaller ones before they begin to head into the house. I reach out my hand for Sophie but only manage to catch her elbow. She turns quickly, moving away. Her reaction throws me.
What the fuck?
“Hey, I picked up your car,” I say and hold out the keys to her.
She takes them without making eye contact. Her feet continue to move towards the house. We pass the car, and I reach for the tray to pull out her coffee.
“Latte with two sugars, right?”
She smiles but it's insincere, forced, and damn if that doesn’t hurt.
“Yes, thank you.” She gingerly takes it from me.
“We’re okay, right?” I ask, stepping closer. She no longer smells of me and her. She’s showered. The scent which washes over me is all her.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” She has this look on her face, one I can’t decipher, but her eyes are bloodshot, and I know she’s been crying even if she’s trying to hide it.
I reach out my hand towards her face. “Listen, about last night—”
“What about last night?” Flick asks as she walks back towards us.
My hand lingers in the space between us like a foreign object. I let it fall back to my side.
Sophie’s eyes widen as she stares at me, pleading. It’s one that says, please don’t say anything. I raise my eyebrows and tilt my head, with a are you kidding me expression. She’s not my dirty little secret. I say nothing. I’ll let her take the reins on this one.
“I ended up a little tipsy last night, and Charlie drove me home.”
I stay silent. Flick glances at me with a frown. She’s not stupid but doesn’t question it. Instead, we make our way inside, the air silent with tension.
In the kitchen, everyone’s asking questions excitedly about the honeymoon while Evie plays mum and gets tea ready for us all. I can’t help but keep stealing glances at Soph. She’s listening intently, yet answers or joins in the bare minimum. Every time I catch her eyes, she avoids me, glances away. Her body language says more than her silence. She wants to be anywhere but here right now.
After what feels like too long, she excuses herself, saying she has an appointment. I don’t believe that. She would’ve mentioned it in the week if that were the truth.
I make a break for my room, catching her as she exits, bags in tow. Cutting her off, I step into her space. “Sophie, what’s going on?” I ask quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear us.
“Nothing, I have an appointment.”
She’s lying, I know she is, but I have no idea why.
“Sophie, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but we need to talk.”
She pulls back as if I’ve slapped her. She moves past me, a girl on a mission. “I really do have to go. Bye, Charlie.”
There’s a finality to her words, and I’m left totally bewildered in her wake. What the fuck just happened?
Nate intercepts me back downstairs. “Man, what was up with Soph? Why was she acting all skittish?” He clenches his fist. “Please don’t tell me that tool from the wedding has been giving her grief?”
I shrug. “I honestly have no idea, and I don’t think so.” I hope not.
He eyes me suspiciously. “Well, something’s up with her.”
I rub my hand over my face. “We might have, you know, kind of…” My palms sweat; I wipe them on my jeans.
“Kind of what?”
Is he seriously going to make me spell it out for him? “Slept together,” I croak out.
“What the fuck?” He edges closer, shoulders back.
All right, I hardly expected him to jump up and down with glee but come on.
“Do you know what? Forget it. I have to head out.”
“Hell no. I think you need to tell me what the fuck happened. Did you hurt her?”
Now I’m the one clenching my fists. He did not just imply… I get up in his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He holds up his palm. “I didn’t mean it like that, you fuck wit,” he says.
I take a step back. “It sounded like it.” I exhale, not understanding how I was on such a high only a few short hours ago, and now I’m exhausted.
“It happened last night. We haven’t even talked about it yet, so until I speak to her, there’s nothing more to say. All you need to know is I really like her, man.”
He gives me an approving nod, and I go to say goodbye. The faster I get out of here, the sooner I can get to the bottom of whatever is going on with her.
Once I’m in my car driving to my place, I try and call her, but it goes straight through to voicemail. I attempt to call a couple more times but nada. On my last try, I leave her a message.
“Soph, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this, thanks.”
Back at mine, I switch off the engine but make no move to get out. I’m wired, and the more I think about what Nate said, the more wound up I become.
Texting Olly, I check if he’s free for some sparring. I need to work out my frustration. Before I pull away, I send Sophie a text, too.
Call me. We need to talk.
I pull into the car park, in front of what appears to be a warehouse, the only give away is the massive sign with the word Gym on the side of the building. A huge neon arrow points to the entrance at the top of the metal staircase.
The space is open planned, the brick walls painted white. It’s air conditioned throughout. The heavy electric fans hidden by the surround sound music system which plays into the expanse of the space. It’s split between two floors. The first holds the main gym equipment with a reception desk and vending machine and a hall that leads off to some changing rooms with showers and lockers. The second floor has a main office and smaller training rooms for bespoke lessons and classes.
I spot Olly on the bench, tying his shoelaces, his eyes catch mine and I nod my acknowledgement as I pass him and head into the men’s locker room. When I come back out, he’s warming up, hopping from one foot to the other. His tattoos are on full display. He’s been having work on a full sleeve since he’s worked for me. Addicted to the tattoo gun, he once told me. But there’s more to it than that. I’ve seen the names—intricately woven amid all the work—and then there are scars which he’s had covered with tattoos. We’ve been sparring for the best part of two years, so I’ve seen enough of him to know he has his demons.
“What’s up, boss?” he asks as I approach him.
“I wish I knew,” I say.
He passes me the gloves, and I pull them on as he grabs the pads. Beating his palms together a couple of times, he makes a stance and holds them up in front of him.
I make to punch left then right, left, right.
“So, how was the delectable Soph when you guys left last night?” he huffs from behind the pads. I put more weight into my next round of punches.
“She was fine,” I grind out. He says nothing more on the subject and lets me work out my frustration. And I’m grateful he takes the hint and doesn’t push me further.
Chapter 13
Sophie
One Month Earlier
I’m sprawled out on the sun lounger, gazi
ng up at a rainbow sherbet coated night sky, when the screen door creaks behind me. I peer over my shoulder; Charlie’s back is to me. He clicks the door shut, and when he turns and catches me staring at him, he smiles. It’s the smile I don’t see very often on him, but it’s my favourite of his, it’s the one that says, I don’t use this on just anyone.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks when he approaches.
“No, you?”
He shakes his head. His eyes glow, reflecting the light from the moon. “I heard the door and then thought I’d check out who was out here,” he replies.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” He sits in the lounger beside me and lays back. “Wow, the moon is fierce tonight.”
“I know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars.” It’s one of my favourite parts of being close to the beach like this. In the city, the streetlights ruin the view, and I’m lucky if I see stars at all.
“I have in Aus,” he says, turning his head so that he can see my face. “I’ve always been fascinated by them. My Mum used to tell me these stories when I was a kid.”
I smile, rolling onto my side, and rest my cheek on my hand, half my face now squidgy. “Tell me one.”
“What, really?” he asks.
I nod. “My parents never told me stories growing up.”
His eyes roam over my face. His eyebrows crease at my admission, and the hairs on his arms stand on end.
“You cold?” I ask. He’s only in loose joggers and a t-shirt.
“Would you think I was a wuss if I said yes?”
I chuckle. “Nope, it’s a well-known fact: men’s blood is thinner than a woman’s. It’s not your fault. Want to share?” I ask, holding up the throw I have covering me. “I promise to keep my hands to myself,” I say with a wink. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Charlie Broadbent.
He reaches out, grabs the side of my lounge chair and pulls me along with it. I let out a tiny squeal. It scrapes on the floor as he pulls it flush next to his. I move closer to the edge and sling the throw over him.
We’re inches apart; his warm breath touches the tip of my nose when he speaks. “Thank you.”
“So, a story?” I ask, turning back to stare at the sky.
I listen to his voice—a symphony of expressions—as he tells me about two brothers and the pointer stars. I get lost in his words as he regales me with a childhood story, all from memory. I love reading, but at this moment, I love listening to him narrating more. His accent only comes to the forefront when he says certain words; they roll off his tongue differently. When he’s finished, he points up, and we begin to make up names of the stars.
There’s a pause in our chit chat. The salty sea breeze and the lapping of waves lulls me into a sense of calm.
“Are you okay…after last night?” he asks.
“I am, thank you.” I went to bed feeling lighter. I talked, and he listened. I don’t know why, but his presence makes me content.
“Sometimes people get so used to saying they’re fine or all right, but they’re not… I know what it’s like to be trapped with voices in your head but struggling to voice them.” He looks back to me.
“Do you remember when we met?” I ask.
He nods. “Of course, you completely shot me down.”
I gently swat his shoulder.
“Ha, bloody ha. No, but you made up that excuse to get me away from my ex who showed up.”
He moves closer, pulling the throw tighter around us.
“A few days before that, he’d got engaged. He was my first boyfriend, my first everything, and after that happened…you know, with Flick and me, do you know what he did?”
I avoid his probing eyes, and don’t wait for him to reply. It’s like I’ve turned on a tap and it just comes spilling out. “He never came to see me in the hospital, not once. He waited until I was discharged, then he came to my parent’s house and dumped me.”
“Fucking arsehole,” Charlie says, his arm moving around me. I’m not even sure if he’s aware he just did that, but I don’t pull back.
“The thing is, when I heard he was engaged, I felt ripped off—betrayed. We were engaged, we talked about what our wedding would be like. I know what you think…we were young. But I loved him, and I would’ve married him.”
I grip the top of the throw, bringing it up under my chin. “When I found out, I struggled, knowing that was supposed to be me. Do you know what I did?” I ask, staring at him.
He shakes his head.
“I went on one of the worst benders I’ve ever had. Had to have my stomach pumped. It turns out alcohol and self-medication don’t mix.” My stomach twinges from the memory.
“Shit, Soph, he was never good enough for you.”
“I know that, Charlie, but it wasn’t him that was the problem. It was me. I hated myself for a long time. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.”
“Maybe it’s because we’re friends. Maybe it’s because you need to draw a line under the crap so that you can be free of all the bullshit.”
“Yeah, perhaps.”
He reaches for the loose curl hanging over my face and rubs it between his finger and thumb before letting it go. “You know, my father drank. After my Mum died. I’d never seen him drink, not like that, not before or since. Believe it or not, Sophie, you were grieving. So much was taken from you. Everyone deals with grief in their own way.” He pins me with his eyes. “And don’t try and wave it off, or act like you didn’t, Sophie, because you did.”
My eyes begin to water, but I refuse to let tears fall. I blink them back and take a breath. “I never meant to take an overdose. But I needed to hit rock bottom so that I could get back up again. I needed to see things from a new perspective, and I did.”
He nods. “Well, I for one am glad I get to know you, Sophie.” He kisses the top of my head.
I close my eyes and let the sound of ocean waves lull me into peacefulness.
When I wake, my head in the crook of a neck, my heart stills but then I breathe, and the scent of wood and citrus filling my nose lets me know it’s him.
“Good. You’re awake,” he says, voice deep with sleep. “Just in time.”
He sits us up, his arms still wrapped around me, his heartbeat a solid, staccato beat. I wipe the remnants of sleep from my eyes and blink. The horizon comes to life with warm yellows and oranges as the sun makes its ascent for the day. And as I watch in awe at how powerful and vibrant it is, I say goodbye to yesterday, the memories, all the grief. I let go of the things I cannot change, and I finally feel like I can breathe.
I wake from dreams of the last few weeks as the stewardess announces our decent. In my moment of madness, I contacted my employer and told them I needed some personal leave. It’s the only good thing about being on a temporary contract. I went online and booked the earliest flight I could find.
Simon, although concerned about my sudden change of mind, was more than ecstatic when I rang him. I didn’t go into detail but told him I’d royally screwed up. And then came the torrent of tears followed by ugly sobs…snot and all. He calmed me down and said that it was what I needed—coming to him, taking the time to gain some perspective.
Simon’s waiting for me as I walk through arrivals, holding up a flimsy piece of card with hot totty scrawled across. I half laugh and half sob as I throw myself into his open arms. He holds me to him, not bothered by the hustle and bustle all around us, not until I’m ready and I step back. He wipes my face with the sleeve of his jumper.
“I’m sorry. I know I’ve overreacted. I don’t know why I’m even here…”
He shakes his head and scuffs up my hair. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m your best friend, that’s why you’re here in your time of crisis. It’s that simple.”
“Hardly a crisis,” I say, wiping under my nose. He’s always so dramatic.
Taking my holdall, we link hands and head out the exit where he hails us a taxi. Inside, he keeps my h
and in his, keeps me grounded.
We join the circus of yellow taxis and cars which fill the highway, as we make our way into New York. We drive alongside what seems like miles and miles of gravestones lining a cemetery, one after the other, row after row. Life is unpredictable, and there are no guarantees.
He dumps my bags off at his and takes me down the block to a local bar where we settle into a booth.
“What happened?”
I trace my fingers over the lines of the wood while I contemplate how much to tell him. I’m exhausted from it all.
Glancing up to his face, I cut to the chase. “I slept with Charlie.”
“Shut the front door,” he gushes. “About freaking time! And?” he asks as though this is the best revelation.
“It was…hmm…different.”
“Different how?” he asks, prodding me to continue.
I contemplate my answer.
“Damn it, Sophie. If you tell me there’s something wrong with his crown jewels, I will die,” he says, gulping his water.
“Simon, there’s nothing wrong with his you-know-what. It was just different.”
He places his hands in front of him, flat on the table. “Okay, help me out here. Are we talking kinky-different or what?”
My face begins to warm. I check around us, but no one is paying us any attention. The waitress brings over our shots, and I don’t even wait before downing it, chasing down the rich aniseed with a long sip from my cocktail.
“No, nothing like that—it was more. I felt everything.”
Simon leans across the table, moving my glass to the side, taking my hands in his. “Oh, baby girl, you got it bad.”
“What, no. I didn’t say that. I mean, of course, I like him. We’re friends, or we were. But when I woke up, he was gone.”
“Back up, sister, you spent the night together? The whole night?”
I nod. “He asked me to stay afterwards. I planned on maybe sneaking out once he was asleep, but when I did kind of wake up, we went for round two instead.”
He lets out a belly laugh. I pull my hands free from his and grab my drink again, using it as a shield, like it can hide my embarrassment. I’m not embarrassed about the fact Charlie and I had sex, but because it meant something to me.