Brad took me on errands to the petrol station, the bank, the chemist and the supermarket by ten a.m. and even found the time to buy drive-through coffee and exotic fruit punnets, all before he used the pick-up and drop-off point directly outside the main entrance of St Mary's Hospital to park the Bentley. He had to collect Alexa and the new baby from The Lindo Wing.
I had a feeling he would be gone for a while, so I climbed out of the car to stretch my legs. An entire morning in the passenger seat whilst the man perambulated through London had taken its toll on my limbs.
My phone vibrated.
Mary: Are you busy tomorrow?
I tapped a response.
Me: I will check the calendar.
Message read.
Mary: Seriously?
Me: What?
Mary: Is this your idea of a joke?
Me: An offensive joke, apparently.
Mary: Jesus, Emma. Are you busy or not?
Me: My life is boring. What do you think?
Mary: Then come over for dinner tomorrow night.
Me: Maybe.
Mary: This whole unapproachable visage is exhausting. Just accept the invite and offer to bring expensive wine.
Me: I will bring cheap wine.
Mary: See? Was that so hard?
Me: Extremely.
Mary: Bye, Emma!
Me: Adios, Mary!
My sister sent a middle finger emoji.
Smiling at the message thread, I locked the phone, ready to tuck it in my pocket, when a shadow fell over me. I peered up, and the familiar face of an old friend was right in front of me. "Hey." Although the two of us had patched things up recently, I remained hypervigilant in his proximity. "Rough night?"
"Something like that." Jace rubbed his eyes beneath Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses. "A dose of caffeine ought to do the trick."
An awkward silence fell over us. "So, Brad told me about the baby," I said conversationally to break the ice. "Alexa gave birth on the side of a motorway. I think he is still traumatised."
"It was definitely an experience." His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Alexa handled the pain like a soldier. I am so proud of her." Shoving his arms into the sleeves of a leather jacket, he unscrewed the cap of a takeaway coffee cup and blew over the hot, steamy surface. "Do you want some?"
"I am okay." A gentle breeze teased the hair out of my face. "Thank you, though."
He stared for several seconds like something was on his mind. "Have you spoken to Tommy lately?"
Instantly guarded, I wore a mask of perfect impassiveness. "Why?"
"He texted out of the blue to let me know he would be in London tomorrow. I guess he will swing by the parlour." Jace paused to allow room for an interruption. "It's only a heads-up. Knowing Tommy, he'll want to see you."
In Tommy's defence, I pestered him with text messages until he agreed to take me to Quintin. "Thank you for the advisory warning, but it's nothing to worry about. I asked Tommy to come to London. He is doing me a favour."
"Right..." He observed with genuine puzzlement. "Okay, why? You haven't been on speaking terms for years. I don't mean to come across as insensitive, but Carter is not..." Here, he stopped himself from saying. "After everything that's happened, I would hate for this to blow up in your face."
My arms crossed. "Since when do you care about my well-being? I never mattered before."
"Since I grew up and learnt the truth about that night." He sipped coffee with an apologetic gleam in his eyes. "Look, Tommy is a good guy. I love him like a brother. But with you back in his life, I worry. He's like a dog with a bone when he wants something."
He is in the wrong lane. "Jace—"
"You will never be accepted by them." He meant the traveller community. "Put one foot on the site, and you will not come back out."
My mouth opened to respond.
"Not to mention that you have Jones in the background." Jace's tone was vehement as he bridged the gap between us. "Brad will not think twice about bumping Tommy off. He won't let any man step on his toes. Do you understand how damaging this can be?"
"Jace," I said with a slight huff. "It's not what you—"
"This whole situation is a recipe for disaster. Someone is going to get hurt." His tongue piercing dragged across the bottom of his front teeth. "Just leave the past where it belongs."
"You are way off base. Tommy is not looking to rekindle old flames and vice versa," I put his mind at ease. "I asked him to accompany me to the prison to visit Quintin. That is why he is due in London."
"What?" Jace's eyes grew wide. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? You don't provoke a fucking psychopath!"
"What choice do I have?" Unfazed by the man's rant, I stood my ground. "Quintin might know something about Carter. I will do whatever it takes to find my son."
"Have you forgotten?" He took pity on me. "Quintin hates you. You are his arch-enemy. He will never forgive you for Killian's death. If you rock up to the prison and beg him for help, he will laugh in your fucking face."
"Tommy will be with me." My back rested against the car door. "Surely, if Quintin does know something, he will speak openly to his son."
"Quintin is not an altruist. He would rather cut off his nose to spite his face." He re-capped the takeaway coffee cup. "Tommy's attendance will carry no weight. If anything, it will make Quintin angrier. A son's betrayal is not easy for any father to swallow."
"You did the unthinkable to find your daughter," I said with care, and his eyes briefly flickered toward the sky. "Tell me, I am wrong."
Jace squeezed the nape of his neck. "We never stood a chance, Summer and I. I know that now." A look of mournful regret crossed his features. "You can agree to another's terms and conditions and play by the rules, but in the end, servile obedience will be your only accomplishment. Tragedy ends unhappily, Em." His sigh was heavy. "You know I am right."
My heart was not ready to let go. "What if it's different this time?" I toyed with the chain around my neck, not expecting him to answer. "What if there is hope for us?"
Jace watched cars drive through the street with dull perfunctoriness. "Even if Quintin knows Carter's whereabouts, he will take it to the grave." His eyes came back to me. "But you are right. I became a necessary evil to save my daughter, so who am I to stand in the way of closure? I just..." He seemed to harbour mixed emotions. "I don't want to see anyone else get hurt, that is all."
"I appreciate your concern." Kneading knots of tension in my left shoulder, I cast a weak, faint smile. "But I know what I am doing."
Jace looked fixedly at me for a while, like he had more to say but decided against it. "I got a lift." He gestured to the white Lexus parked on the curb across the street. A blonde female driver, relaxed behind the steering wheel, waved him over. "Do you need me to stay with you until they come out?"
"No," I declined his offer politely.
Jace tapped my shoulder, an awkward goodbye, and then gravitated to the awaiting vehicle. Two-finger salute in my direction, he slid onto the passenger seat, leaned over the centre console and placed a soft kiss on the woman's cheek.
Rubbing the chill from my arms, I watched her mouth move rapidly, angrily, almost hatefully, as she glared over to where I was standing.
Understandably confused by the air of animosity, I checked my surroundings, people, trees and vehicles, wondering what could have possibly infuriated her. Then it dawned on me. I am the root cause of her overt displeasure. I had somehow, unintentionally, driven her bonkers, and for merely existing, it would seem. I don't know why. I have never met her. I couldn't even tell you her name.
My attention was diverted when the car sped past with an ignominious screech of tires and a cloud of exhaust fumes. You'd think it was designed for motorsport racing the way she dashed out of the street and turned the corner on two wheels.
Good Lord, what is her problem?
"Charlotte," came a feminine voice behind me, and I turned to see Alexa, wearing a smart, one-buttoned blazer-dress complete with glossy black heeled shoes and a grey leather handbag, standing on the side of the Bentley. "I am not her favourite person, either." Her long, lustrous hair fell down her back in waves and black, oversized sunglasses with gold Medusa medallions shielded her eyes. You would never think she just had a baby. "But I love Jace far too much to run her over."
I am not sure if she is absolutely serious or talking humorously. "Congratulations on the new arrival."
"Thank you." A proud smile lit up her face. "Alas, I will never put myself through that level of pain again. I am content with two kids." I must have pulled a face because she felt the need to explain herself. "Logan. I found him at the youth centre and refused to give him back."
I laughed a little.
"Brad is inside, signing documents for me," she said cryptically, pointing to the hospital. A throng of syndicate men, marking her every move, gathered by the main doors. "He won't be too long. In the meantime, I have strict orders to climb into the back and rest my feet." Opening the passenger door, she ducked into the back of the Bentley and eased into the leather seat. "Come on. I do not bite."
Wiping my clammy hands on the back of my trousers, I climbed into the passenger compartment and slid onto the chair next to her.
For some bizarre reason, I felt out of place and not myself in the woman's presence. Rather than buckle up and relax like a normal person, I shot into a ramrod-straight position, with legs crossed, shoulders pushed back, joint hands clasped on the knee—an elegant posture to mirror the neighbour's sophisticated image—and, what is worse, she noticed and gave me sideways glance of bewilderment. "Are you okay?" she asked, and I nodded like a bobblehead. "You have paled."
"No, I am fine." My foot tapped the floor when a surge of restlessness decided to pay a visit. "It's warm today, isn't it?"
"Is it?" She was quiet for a weighted minute. "I think it's quite chilly."
Yet, I burned in a hot flush of discomfiture. "I suppose."
Alexa sat with one leg placed over the opposite knee. The red-bottom shoes on her feet were the cynosure of attention. I bet they cost a small fortune.
"How do you maintain equilibrium in high heels?" An innocuous question asked by someone desperate to master iconic pumps. "I would love to know your secret. I can't seem to make it past the front door without falling flat on my face. It is embarrassing."
Alexa laughed once. "Non-slip pads underneath the soles."
I made a mental note to buy foot cushions and self-adhesive shoe grips. "I recently wore heels on a night out and held onto my friend's arm all night for support. When I got to the club, I dropped into a booth, where I stayed until I left. I did not trust myself to get up and dance."
"The most practical advice I can offer is practice makes perfect." Her voice was a low hum. "Put one foot in front of the other and take your time."
"I could wear them around the house," I mused, and she agreed that it might prove to be effective. "What is the worst that can happen? I snap my ankle and regress to boots and trainers. No biggie."
Despite her love for shoes, the discussion of mastering the art of wearing high heels fizzled out. I think she almost died from ennui. I quite literally bored her to death.
Great. Now the recrudescence of overthinking has gotten out of control. I never used to be this person, worrying about people's opinions or judgements. However, lately, I am obsessed with trivial matters, for instance, lack of style. It might be toxic, but I compare myself to others. When did that become a thing? I liked casual. It worked for me. It suited me. Yet, I envied fashion icons and craved approval more than ever. Add wanting everyone to like me to the mix, and you have got yourself a maelstrom of contradictory feelings and a preoccupation with people-pleasing. I don't even know who I am anymore.
Alexa is silent, uncommunicative and lost in thought. My stare roved over her face. The under-eye scar visible through the foundation stuck out beneath oversized statement sunglasses. I wondered how she got it or if it bothered her that people could see it. It made no difference to her appearance, though. I happen to think she is beautiful, with flaws and all.
"An accident." As if reading my mind, Alexa touched the scar with gentle fingertips, and I wanted to kick myself for being so transparent. "I think it healed quite nicely."
I lost my voice.
"If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask." Her serious tone of voice betrayed the calm demeanour. "Otherwise, it is impolite to stare. It might give me the wrong impression."
I decided to be honest with her. "You make me nervous."
"What?" Her head tilted. "Why?"
You are hardened, I thought.
"So, basically, I am a bitch," she said, and I frowned in confusion. "I have ears, Emma. You weren't exactly quiet."
My face took the brunt of inescapable heat. "I am so sorry." I prayed for the floor beneath my feet to swallow me whole. "I never meant to offend you. I actually think you are admirable, and, yes, I am anxious and on edge because you are you, and I am me..." I prattled on, embarrassed. "Big Guy is crazy about you. I mean, he idolises you. He talks about you all the time." Her approval of me is important to him, and I have fucked it all up within a matter of seconds. "I wanted you to like me. I fear I have caused the opposite."
Alexa stared at me, intrusively pensive, then looked away. "I suppose I can be a little standoffish." Her voice was quieter now. "It's a hard truth, but resilience and strength came with a hefty price. You, of all people, should understand." She examined her manicured fingernails. "I like that you are honest to a fault. You will fit right in around here."
Breaking eye contact, I released the breath I was holding.
"I am not above you, Emma," she said in a whispered undertone. "In fact, I could argue that you are a much better woman than I am." Pushing the sunglasses to the top of her head, she turned at the waist to face me. "Do you want to know a secret?" Her finger curled a lock of hair behind my ear. "Social comparison is a poison we have all tasted. I, too, compare myself to other women, especially when my husband is around. I am convinced he is too good for me and will, someday, replace me."
"But you are everything a man could ever want." My brows met in the middle. "He would be insane to leave you."
"If Liam were here, he would agree with you." Her eyes were downcast. "But reassurance does not prevent intrusive thoughts. I might come across like a hardened bitch, but I can assure you, I battle self-deprecation too." Her lips drew into a tight smile as if to suppress sadness. "We all have a vulnerable side."
"You are not a bitch." This is the same woman who picked me up, drove me home and offered to be a friend during the initial moments of Carter's disappearance. "You told me your story. You gave me—someone you barely knew—a piece of you because you could feel my pain, and you wanted to take it away. 'An admission of guilt will not help matters. Hope is all you have. If you lose that, where does it leave your son?' Your words have gotten me through the darkest period of my life."
Alexa's lips parted with an owlish blink of her eyes. "You remembered."
"I don't think you realise how inspiring you are," I whispered subtly, almost imperceptibly, and she knuckled a tear from beneath her eye. "Yes, I agree. You are standoffish, and it can be intimidating. But that does not change the fact that you are everything I aspire to be someday. A strong, confident woman."
Alexa scrutinised me with unreadable intenseness. "Brad is crazy about you, too." Not wanting to be the centre of attention, she lightened the mood with secrets and smiles. "But do not tell him I said that. His ego is unmanageable. He will not accept the truth until it is directly in his face." A car door flew open, yet her eyes held mine, green, brown and fixated. "You might want to save that advice for a rainy day." Her voice carried a hidden message, incomprehensible and ambiguous. "Did you get lost? I was ready to send the men after you."
"That was an absolute fucking nightmare." Brad adjusted the passenger chair. "Do you know how many documents I had to sign? You are not bastard incompetent. Next time, I am called upon to do your dirty work..." His onslaught of verbal irony trailed off when he detected tension in the air. He looked between us. "Whatever Alexa told you is a lie."
Alexa's eyes rolled.
"The vixen is hell-bent on causing trouble for me." He deactivated all front airbags and placed a black framed car seat with bright white coverage and a respective gold emblem onto the passenger seat. "Isn't that right, Alexa?"
"Have you fixed the seatbelt?" Alexa, leaning forward to check on the baby, ignored the man's wisecracks. "Does she need a blanket? I have a spare in the changing bag."
"Bean is fine." A true precisionist, he draped a cotton blanket over the baby's legs, tucking the corners into the car seat with care and conscientiousness. "She will overheat if you put too many layers on her. Just sit back and look pretty."
The door closed. Brad rounded the vehicle, shouting orders to the men by the hospital, and lowered himself into the driver's seat. He is more than ready to get back on the road.
Alexa eyes never left the baby in the car seat. If Brad allowed it, she'd hold her daughter for the entire journey home.
"She is beautiful." The baby's perfect little face, pink, rose-bud lips and seraphic beauty tugged on my heartstrings. "Do you have a name yet?"
"For our first date, Liam invited me to the penthouse in Southbank Tower," she told me with a shy smile, and I masked wonderment. Some of those penthouses are on the market for fifty-three million. I can only imagine how it felt to live at the pinnacle of London's iconic skyline. "We had a romantic meal on the balcony and shared a bottle of wine. Although, he opted for whiskey within minutes of my arrival. I had infuriated him with a barrage of questions."
I was invested, lost in story mode.
Alexa reminisced about their past with what very much resembled a heartbroken expression. "Anyway, we headed inside for dessert. I took a brief look around and found his vinyl record collection. He introduced me to some of his most preferred genres. A predilection for classical, if you can believe it. It was the first time I had witnessed him in a state of complete relaxation. He was in his element." Looking like a woman in love, she thumbed the white-gold military tags hanging from her neck. "Il Divo, Isabel."
With one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand on his thigh, Big Guy glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
"So, as a compromise, I decided to name her Isabella." Alexa twisted her wedding band absentmindedly. "After his favourite song."
"Well, to me, she will always be known as Bean." Brad switched gears and then curved the street corner. "And that's non-negotiable. Bossman is an ignorant fucker, so he doesn't have a say in the matter."
"You argue with yourself. I haven't opened my damn mouth." Alexa gripped the man's headrest to peer down at the car seat. "Do you think she is a bit too quiet? Maybe we should pull over so that I can check on her."
"No." His hand worked the gearstick. "She is fine."
"Right, of course." Pushing herself away from his chair with great reluctance, she folded her arms on her lap. "Are you sure another blanket is not necessary? It is quite cold today."
Breathing out a massive sigh, he took the baby's mitten-clad fist into his large hand. "Nope. Everything is fine."
"Yes. Absolutely. I only wanted confirmation." Alexa looked out the window for eight whole seconds before moving forward to stare into the car seat again. "Why is she breathing so quickly?"
"Alexa, there is nothing wrong with her breathing." He is starting to lose his cool. "She is not too cold or too hot or too fucking anything. She will have a nice, peaceful sleep if you shut up and allow it."
"Yes, I know. I just thought it might be wise to check. Again," Alexa said with a flippant wave of the hand. "You should drive slower, though. It is too fast for her first car journey."
"Are you taking the flat out piss? I am within the speed limit. Which, in case you were wondering, is thirty miles per hour." His right arm relaxed on the window ledge. "The nervous Nellie regime is spinning me out. Do not be shocked when I shove a sock in your gob."
Her jaw tensed. "Well, excuse me for being a concerned mother."
"Chronic paranoia is more apt." Brad paused by the traffic lights. "Besides, I am surrounded by syndicate vehicles," he added, and I glanced through the tinted window to see an uncountable assortment of security-driven cars in neighbouring lanes. "Bean is safe. I promise."
—————————————————-
I will be back for typos. ❤️ x
Thoughts on the update?
—Emma?
—Brad?
—Jace?
—Tommy?
—Carter?
—Killian?
—Quintin?
—Charlotte?
—Alexa?
—Liam?
—Isabella?
—any mentions I missed?
Thank you for reading. ❤️ x
Please don't forget to vote. ⭐️