Part Ten

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Peter hated that pounding in the gym didn’t help anything. It was usually his cover all; screw up and the gym would take away the pain. In truth, he had been useless since returning from Stockholm, and nothing else had helped. He was racked with guilt on so many levels, and he wasn’t managing to deal with any of it. Increasing the speed on his treadmill he rasped for breath and for a moment the aerobic demands of the exercise blocked almost all thoughts. But he couldn’t maintain it. Slowing to a jog he allowed reality to creep back in.

Guilt! The greatest pain.

Where did he start? Leading Alexis on?  That was unforgiveable, he KNEW things couldn’t go further, then he slept with her! And whilst it was amazing he’d gone in with no forethought, without even thinking about taking her virginity. He’d behaved like a bloody hormone driven teenager! A beautiful vivacious woman saving herself for the right man, the right time, such a rarity in this world of promiscuity, and he’d ruined her when she’d fallen into a short lived fling with him. It doesn’t have to be short-lived, that voice kept telling him, but he knew that it wouldn’t go further; he just hoped one day she’d forgive him. Maybe that would be feasible if he hadn’t then ignored her, pretended she didn’t exist the very next day. He didn’t think he’d do that, but when Oliver had catapulted straight into his life hours after his daughter had shared her bed with him, well it had been the biggest wakeup call of all. What the hell had he done?

Sorted out things with her? He shook his head in frustration and self loathing, nope, he’d continued to ignore her, Oliver was there, needing his help and he whilst could barely look at the older man for the guilt he felt at deflowering his daughter, that had been his choice, his loyalty. He hated himself for that, but he did it, managing to converse with Oliver as though he hadn’t committed the most heinous crime.

He’d barely slept since. Usually skiing helped, but two days in the mountains resolved nothing. He was unable to concentrate on work, let alone anything else. His punishment to himself was to flog himself into the ground in his basement gym. It was only when the adrenaline kicked in that he stopped worrying and could change his focus, change his thoughts. Temporarily.

This current run had come after the hardest weights program he knew, and before that he’d cycled until he felt like collapsing. And nothing had changed. This was one time when he couldn’t hide from himself.

As he emerged from the basement he threw his sodden t-shirt into the laundry then climbed the stairs to find a drink, it was then he heard the doorbell ring, and ring, and ring.

Rubbing a towel over his face and neck he called out, "Ok ok je viens! I’m coming!" In both languages as he had no idea who the caller was and what language they spoke. Not that he had a huge amount of visitors.

Wiping the streams of sweat from his eyes, he unlocked the door and swung it open, then felt his jaw drop; his mouth gape wide, not even the arctic blast to his sweat soaked body penetrated his level of shock.

There stood Alexis, wrapped up in a knitted beret and matching scarf, her cheeks red from the cold. She wasn’t smiling, but then he hardly expected her to be.

"Alexis! What are you doing here?" he gasped still unable to believe his eyes. Seeing her here in his world was disorientating. He was a man who liked to compartmentalise things.

"I wanted to talk to you." Her voice was quiet, but it caused him to erupt in goose bumps, and he suddenly realised he was half naked.

“Come in...I need to keep the cold out.” He gestured with an arm, and when she moved into the hall he closed the door firmly. "Why didn’t you phone?"

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