He holds the door open for me while I step into his lair and drop my bags on the floor, then he rushes past me, flicking his keys onto the side table as he does so. The sound of metal on glass makes me jump but he doesn't notice. He goes straight to a glossy white kitchen in the far corner of the room.
I take in the massive open plan and the first thing that strikes me is how clean and organised it is. I don't know why I'm surprised. He probably has a team of fairies to keep it spotless. Or maybe it's just him and his obsessive-compulsive habits.
The apartment is airy and well-lit. It feels cool but not cold. The furniture is sleek and modern and the grey, black and green hues provide a striking balance between cosy and formal, which somehow seems very fitting for him.
There is a large dining table surrounded by eight leather chairs in an area to my left. Upon it sits a magnificent, green crystal vase that looks like it's been placed there strategically so that it reflects the backlight coming in from the glass door behind it and casts it onto the walls. The effect is stunning.
I don't see any corridors or stairs but there are three doors that open directly into the living quarters. Two of them are at opposite ends of the dining area. The other is on the far end of the open plan, exactly opposite the front door. Everything about the place is very exact and very symmetrical. Perfect and lean, just like him.
The kitchen is separated from the rest of the living space by a great, marble island that is completely bare. In front of it is a huge U-shaped, charcoal-grey couch that faces a wall-to-wall panoramic window that's dressed in fine white sheer. There is no TV unit. Only a square coffee table made of the same marble as the island. I walk towards the window and, even in my nonchalant state, I find myself gaping at the magnificent view. His unit is on the fifth floor overlooking the open sea. The sky is all shades of orange and pink as the sun rises over the Mediterranean waves. I cross my arms over my chest and hug my torso protectively, trying to keep it together.
Jeremy hasn't said a word to me since he found me crouched on the hard, wooden bench, in the small public garden near the makeup store. I hear him rummaging around behind me but I don't have the energy to turn around. I need to think. I need to process what happened.
How the fuck did I up here? With him? Again!
"How did you find me?" I ask hoarsely. My throat is sore and dry, like I've just swallowed a clump of hay.
"With difficulty."
He's angry. But I don't particularly care. I crossed the point of caring the minute I found out my boyfriend and my best friend were sleeping together.
"I'll make sure to leave a trail of breadcrumbs the next time I run away," I reply sourly, but he sighs heavily, not appreciating my sarcasm.
I can vividly picture his hard, waxy face, his cold, blazing eyes, pursed lips and clenched jaw, nostrils flaring with impatience. I hear a click and the clinking of metal against ceramic.
"Or maybe you can try not switching off your phone," he says finally through his teeth.
I hear the pouring of water. The smell of coffee is infused into the scent of his dwelling and when it reaches my nostrils, it feels strange and familiar at the same time.
"Stephanie was mad with worry when she came home and found your stuff gone. Did you think about her at all?"
I turn to face him as he smashes the kettle back in its dock and chucks the teaspoon carelessly into the sink. He grabs two white mugs and walks over to me. One says Good Cop. The other says Bad Cop. He sets the Bad Cop mug on the coffee table with a loud thud, spilling a little in the process, then goes back to the island and leans casually against it. His stubborn gaze stretches far over the blue horizon, fixed and guarded over his Good Cop mug.
"Sosa called you?" I utter in disbelief, not knowing whether I want to scream or throw up. And then he looks at me, a fierce fire in his eyes that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge.
"Yes, Ally, Sosa called me. Sosa called me at ten o'clock at night to see if you were with me because she had been trying to call you for the past seven hours and you weren't picking up. No! No, she said the calls weren't even going through. So, I asked her what happened and she said you may have found something on that halfwit's phone that made you pack your stuff and leave. The same halfwit I keep begging you to stay away from!
"So, I went out to look for you like a fucking idiot, worried sick because it was dark and cold and late and no one had a clue where you were or if he'd done something to you. I drove all over Attard. I drove around Bormla. I went to The Black Gold and was dragged out again because the bouncer recognised me from the night before. I went to the cemetery at four in the fucking morning, Ally! I thought maybe you went to visit Millie's grave and fell asleep or fell and got hurt or something. I had to bribe the guard to get in and you weren't there... I was going mad! I had no idea where else to look, so I spent another two hours driving around aimlessly like a lunatic. And then I remembered your fucking fetish for trees! 'Everything beyond the trees is irrelevant,' right?"
My wildly beating heart stops with a sickening pang as I look into his face. Fury, disbelief and disappointment are etched on every inch of his skin, but most of all I see the hurt in his eyes. I press my lips together to stop them from trembling, swallowing my guilt and anger.
"I'm sorry," I mumble.
"You're sorry? I was half expecting to find you dead in a ditch somewhere!" His voice breaks and his chin quivers slightly as he says this.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think she'd drag you into this," I reply, my voice rising to match his.
"You were missing! What else could she have done?"
"She could have kept her mouth shut just like she did all the while she was sleeping with Keith behind my back!" I shout back.
His irises contract beneath his furrowed brows as the anger in his eyes ebbs away and transforms into shock, then to understanding. He places his Good Cop mug on the marble counter and buries his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes forcefully as though hoping to wipe away the past few hours from his memory.
"Fuck. Ally, I'm sorry."
"No, you're not. You told me he'd never take care of me."
I set my keys and phone on the coffee table and crash on the couch, unable to stand on my feet for another minute. I reach for my coffee, feeling more betrayed and humiliated than I ever have in my life. Memories of Jake come flooding back, harsh and unwelcome. Only this is ten times worse because back then, I had Millie and a whole new life to distract me. What the hell do I have now?
I bring the mug to my lips and my breath catches sharply in my lungs as soon as the familiar taste hits my taste buds. My chin trembles and tears well up in my eyes.
"Jeremy?" I ask breathlessly. "Did you put anisette in my coffee?"
Jeremy removes his hands from his face and looks at me, desolate and weary. His eyes are all over me and right through me and all around me. "I... I'm sorry. I just figured..."
His words fail him as he sees the tears falling mercilessly down my face. I am suddenly back in our little kitchen in Bormla, with the sunlight washing through the window and the lively music coming from the black DAB radio. The old wooden clock is watching over us.
I breathe methodically, longing for the days when there was nothing that her food could not fix and no pain that her coffee could not ease. It feels like that was another lifetime, like I'm so far away from her warmth, I can't even remember what it feels like.
My hands are trembling so much that the coffee is sloshing threateningly in the mug, so Jeremy rushes over and sits beside me, steadily taking the cup from my hands and setting it back on the coffee table.
"Christ, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't think... I don't know what I can say or do to make this better. It's just... I'm not her! I... Honestly, I just want to hit Keith so badly right now but that won't fix anything."
He takes my face in his large hands, still scarred and rough from yesterday's fight, and wipes my tears away with his thumbs like he's done a thousand times before. I look straight into his eyes, trying to grasp onto something, anything that can stop me from falling apart. I've spent weeks building layers of brick wall around me, telling myself and anyone who would listen that I'll be fine, thinking I'm safe. One shot of anisette is all it took to tear them all down.
"But what I do know," he goes on slowly, "is that I promised you, in front of her, that I'm not going anywhere and I meant it. You're not alone, Ally."
"But I am," I whisper truthfully. "And it's all my fault. She told me to be careful. She warned me not to push away the people who matter."
"You can never push me away," he says holding my head firmly, his eyes piercing through to my soul.
"That's because I don't have to."
The words are out before I have time to stop them. I cover my mouth with my hands but it's too late. I can see from the hard lines of his face and the intensified grasp of his fingers that he knows exactly what I mean.
I almost apologise but what's the point? It's the truth and he knows it. Why push him away when I know he'll just go on his own? He never sticks around. Not really.
I stand up, releasing my face from his grasp, and walk away to the kitchen not wanting him to bash my walls down any further.
"You can't be serious," he says gruffly. "I know I haven't always been there but I never really left either. Even when you asked me to. I'm not Keith or Steph or Jake! I'm here."
I lean forward against the cold marble surface of the island, resting my forehead against it, enjoying its cool, smooth texture against my burning skin. When I stand up straight again, Jeremy is sitting with his back towards me, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
"They're not the problem, I am. I abandoned Sosa when she needed me the most. I was so engrossed in losing Millie, I didn't even realise I lost her too. I brought her in to live with me, thinking I could fix things, but I practically pushed her into Keith's arms. And of course, Keith had all the time in the world for her because I never let him in. And when Millie died, I completely shut him out. I shut him out so easily, along with everyone else. By the time I realised what I'd done, it was too late."
"That's not an excuse," Jeremy sighs running his fingers exasperatedly through his hair before turning in his seat to face me. "You can't possibly think it's okay to be punished like this for protecting your feelings, especially after everything you've been through!"
"I'm not saying what he did was okay, but it's not just his fault! He tried so hard to work his way into my life but I wouldn't let him. Even when Millie was around, I was always too busy with classes or homework or work... or you! I always chose home with you and Millie instead of going out with him. Can you imagine what that was like for him? He would ask me to go out just for half an hour for coffee or something and I'd say I'm too tired. Then the next day he'd come over, and I'd be in bed till noon because I was up till three in the morning watching TV or reading with you!"
The more I talk, the more I realise that, even though what he did is despicable, our relationship was doomed months ago.
"And we never talked! About anything! I know every detail of his childhood and he doesn't know shit about me. He doesn't know how I ended up here. He doesn't know what Millie meant to me because I never, not once, told him. So he cannot get how much I miss her or how hard it's been without her. And that is my fault, Jeremy, because I never let him get anywhere near my feelings. I didn't want him to comfort me because what good would that fucking do? And then, he asked me to stay away from you and I hated him for it. And he knew it. He gave me everything and it still wasn't enough."
I wipe my face furiously before saying the one thing that's been weighing on my heart all through the night. "I did the same thing to him as I did to my friends back in London and to my father and now, I have no one."
"What are you talking about? Your father abandoned you! He practically shipped you here and never came back!"
The angry look on Jeremy's face only makes me feel worse.
"No, he didn't," I confess for the first time in my life. More years of resentment and fortitude come crashing down as I stand in front of him, feeling pathetic and ashamed. "He sent me here because he didn't know what else to do with me. After Mum died, I wouldn't talk to him or look at him."
"You had just lost your mother. You were fifteen! And even so, being a difficult teenager does not justify sending you off to another country, taking money from you and forgetting all about you!"
"He didn't forget about me." The words come out on their own, just like my tears. Just like always. My heart pours out as my last ounce of self-respect crashes and I resign myself to tell him the secret I've been carrying for way too long. "He called to apologise some weeks after we found out about the money. He said he was getting help and he'd come back for me and make things right. But I was still angry. So, I told him to forget he ever had a daughter and to forget he ever had a wife because he didn't deserve us. Though the words I used were not quite as diplomatic."
A pressure I'd become accustomed to shifts from my chest to my ankles. It's as though I've finally dropped the chains I'd been holding on to. My body transforms into a shell. A corpse. I feel lifeless as it vaguely crosses my mind that it's almost comical how quickly I hit rock bottom without even realising it.
I can't decide what I'm feeling mostly, shame, grief or self-loathing as I look down at my feet. I wish Jeremy would look away but instead, he rushes to my side and cradles me in his arms as I cry uncontrollably into his chest, knowing perfectly well I don't deserve a chest to cry into.
"I turned him away because I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving me again. I tried to invite him to Millie's funeral," I sob as Jeremy strokes my hair soothingly. "But he didn't answer. I don't even know if his number still exists. I called his firm, they said they hadn't heard from him in years. I don't even know if he's alive!"
"It's alright," he says in a broken voice. "It's going to be alright. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
I try to focus on the familiar beating of his heart, melting into him until my sobbing slows down and despite my initial regret, I'm glad he found me. His dark green sweater is soaked but he doesn't complain. He just holds me until my tears stop.
I move my head upwards so that I can look into his face. He relaxes his arms enough to allow me to move but then presses me to him again. I take in his warm, spicy scent and let it numb the chaos in my head, the fatigue in my body.
His ice-blue eyes meet mine and they seem to grow darker the longer I hold his gaze. I rise on my toes and lift my face up to his. His hot, sweet breath on my lips draws me in. His dark eyelashes flutter softly against my cheeks as his eyes drop to my mouth. Our lips brush lightly against each other and without giving it another thought, I kiss him.