Catch My Breath (27 page)

"Would you like some tea?"

Katherine's voice broke into my reverie.

"Oh, sure. Thank you."

"Here. Have a seat. Breakfast will still be several minutes. My nephew is a perfectionist, in case you hadn't noticed."

There was a platter of scones sitting on the table, along with a bowl of fresh fruit.

"Help yourself to whatever you'd like, Amelia. I have to admit, the scones are rather delicious."

"Please, call me Lia."

I smiled, reaching for a scone. It was still warm to the touch. I broke it in half, spreading clotted cream and jam on each piece.

"You prepared that like you've lived over here for ages,” Katherine beamed.

"I've spent some time in London. When my sister moved there four years ago, I was volunteered to fly over and help her get settled in. Not that I minded. London is an amazing city."

"Alastair was still living in London at the time. Shame you two didn't bump into each other then." She tried to hide a sad smile with her teacup. My chest constricted. "But you know what they say, the timing is everything.”

Questions jumped and bounced against the walls of my brain. This was my chance to ask just about anything. If anyone knew Alastair inside and out, it would be his aunt.

"He's very taken with you, Lia."

I almost choked on the scone. Katherine smiled apologetically.

"I don't mean to embarrass you. But it's true.”

"He's very special to me."

Oh my God. I said that out loud.

"I know he is. I can tell by the way you look at him. He's lucky to have found you."

Our conversation was interrupted by the person we were discussing. Alastair walked into the room carrying a tray filled with food. The forced quiet was noticeable.

"You were talking about me weren't you?" He arched an eyebrow at me.

"Oh Alastair, stop teasing her." Katherine stood up and glanced at the tray before leaving. "Looks delicious. I'll let you two enjoy breakfast alone. Nice chatting with you, Lia."

He placed the tray carefully on a small table next to the window.

"Alright," he rubbed his hands together. "We have scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausages and toast. Sound good?"

The aroma of freshly prepared food filled the room. At the mercy of my stomach, I scurried over to the table.

"This looks amazing. And here I thought hangover food was the only thing you knew how to make."

“Does that smart mouth of yours ever stop?”

“No,” I said, loading up a dish. “Get used to it.”

We ate in comfortable silence for several minutes. He was a good cook, I had to admit.

“What are we doing today?”

Grinning mischievously, he answered, “Flying to Glasgow.”

“Really? Why?”

“Stephanie is already there and it’ll be easier if you’re both in the same city when you fly home tomorrow.”

All the food congealed in my stomach. “I don’t want to go home.”

Apparently my brain was on hiatus again, giving my mouth full range to do as it pleased. My words sucked the relaxing aura right out of the atmosphere. There wasn’t any response from Alastair. Not a flinch, not a sigh, nothing. I didn’t know what to think about that.

After we finished breakfast, he went to his grandfather’s study to gather some files and sit in on a conference call. While relaxing in the bedroom, I decided to call Stephanie and wish her luck. Of course, I got her voicemail, so I left a long, cheerful message telling her that I’d see her later in the afternoon. Thankfully there weren’t any additional texts from Nathan. I deleted all his messages from the other night.

About two hours later, Alastair appeared in the room looking stressed.

“Everything alright?” I asked, packing the last of my clothes.

“Yeah,” he answered, distracted.

“You sure?”

A knock sounded at the door.

"Shit," he muttered, opening it. I saw his aunt, pale with worry.

“We’re going to the hospital now.” Walking into the room, she addressed me. "Sorry to leave like this, Lia. Alastair’s grandfather has fallen ill.”

Anxiety cast an uneasy pall in the room. Alastair was stony-faced.

“Is it serious?” I asked, trying to even out my nerves. Zero emotion emitted from him. He didn’t even flinch when I put my arm around his waist.

“We’re not sure,” she admitted. “He left by ambulance half an hour ago. They have him in critical care as a precaution."

Ambulance? I didn’t even hear the sirens. This house was a soundproof fortress.

"You both stay here." Katherine hugged and kissed Alastair. "We'll let you know as soon as we hear anything."

Hugging me, she whispered, "Keep an eye on him for me. He needs you."

She’d just placed a heavy burden on my shoulders. I was still navigating through the cracks and holes of his exterior. I’d had some success, but not enough to be comfortable thinking he’d use me as a crutch in times of uncertainty. I feared the exact opposite.

“Is there anything I can do?” I squeezed his arm, trying to catch his eye.

“No.”

He appeared to be more agitated and tense than upset over this. It was hard to get an exact read on his demeanor. I selfishly longed to have just one uninterrupted day without any drama. It was almost as though fate was taunting me.

"If you want to go home a day early, I don't blame you."

His dull, lifeless tone tore a hole through my chest.

“Home? I thought we were going—“

“Plans have changed,” he glowered. “I’ve arranged a flight for Stephanie from Glasgow, explaining what happened here.”

“You what? She hasn’t called me.”

“I talked to Darren and told him you were already on your way back to Orlando.”

Anger flamed from the pit of my stomach, fueled by disbelief. I didn’t know who this pod person standing in front of me was, but I wanted him gone.

"Why would you say that?"

“Because you’re leaving.”

“No, I am not,” I shouted. “You can’t just tell me to go. Not when something like this has happened. I want to be here for you."

"Your wide-eyed approach to everything is something to behold," he laughed bitterly. "Not all situations can be solved with a warm hug or an encouraging smile."

His eyes were lifeless, dark pools. There wasn’t even a glimmer of the man I’d danced with by the windows last night.

"I'm not trying to solve anything with a hug or a smile. I'm supporting you. That's what people do for one another."

"I don't need your support. I don't need anything or anyone,” he said without an ounce of warmth or regret. "I've managed this long getting by on my own."

The room imploded with desolation. I froze in place, surrounded by the fallout of his harsh words.

"You're joking, right? You have a family that adores you. You—” I was cut off by his laser stare. It was tortured and angry.

"I have no family. They were taken from me in the most violent, horrible way you can imagine. I have no one.”

“What about me?” I shook, tears brimming.

“You?” Dropping his stare to the floor, he inhaled slowly. Hairline fractures threatened to crumble his shell. I waited, hoping he’d soften so we could stop this frigid exchange. The silence suffocated me. Desperation and fear grabbed hold of my logic.

“I care about you, Alastair,” I blurted out.

He snapped his head up, staring at me. There was something much more dangerous in his eyes now. Confusion and pain twisted his features. Turning his back on me, he walked to the windows.

The gesture hit me with the force of a freight train. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I was consumed by the full weight of his fractured soul. All his charm, all his wit, everything that made him the person I adored really was just a flimsy exterior.

I’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

Weak
.

This was the real Alastair Holden.

“Do you really want me to leave?” I challenged him one last time.

Nothing. No movement. Not a sound. Just an immobile silhouette by the window. I was done banging my head against the impenetrable shield. Upset as I was, I knew enough to stop torturing myself over something that would inevitably destroy the last shred of dignity I had left. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I could change him.

Yanking my suitcase off the bed, it hit the floor with a thud. I wasn’t sure how I’d get to the airport, I just wanted to get out of this house.

“I’ll drive you.” A small voice skated across the room, stopping my heart.

“No, you won’t. I’ll take a taxi.”

“You don’t know which one to call.”

“Then call one for me,” I exploded. “Just do it so I can get the hell away from you and this house.”

I rolled the suitcase into the hall and stormed toward the main staircase. Fury and adrenaline gave me enough strength to carry it down one-handed. I waltzed outside and stood on the driveway. A few minutes later I heard footsteps behind me.

“It’ll be here shortly.”

The deadness in his voice turned my stomach. I refused to look at him. The only thing that mattered was controlling the impending tidal wave of emotion.

“Kevin is already waiting for you at—“

“I’m not going on your plane. I’ll fly stand-by if I have to.”

“Lia, don’t do that. You’ll be sitting at Heathrow for hours.”

A bit of his commanding tone colored the statement.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want—“

“What you want is not a option,” I yelled, spinning around to face him. “Go back inside, Alastair. You said you didn’t need anyone and you do just fine on your own. Well,” I gestured to the door, “you can’t get any more alone than this.”

I thought I saw him tremble, but figured it was just my delusional mind. Tires crunching on the gravel driveway provided much needed relief. The cab driver got out and placed my suitcase in the trunk. Weakened for a brief second, I turned to look over my shoulder. Alastair was still standing at the edge of the grass. This time, he was visibly shaking.

I wanted to run to him. I wanted to throttle the emotions out of him. Swallowing a sob, I climbed in the car. The last thing I saw as the cab pulled away was his face crumbling into despair. Curling up on the seat, I cried all the way to the airport.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Suitcases, backpacks and other assorted baggage circled methodically on the conveyor belt. A red light spun as an alarm sounded announcing more luggage arrivals. I stared blankly at the column jutting up from the baggage claim area.

“I see your bag.”

Stephanie’s voice barely registered on my radar.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

Somebody else was probably controlling my legs from a distant universe with a crazy remote contraption. As far as I knew, I was just a floating head, detached from my body. I had zero awareness of time. No sooner had I sat in the car, I was being told we’d arrived. Whatever that meant.

"Why don't you go lie down. You look exhausted, Lia."

Stephanie busied herself closing the blinds. I stood in my living room, surrounded by familiar, comforting objects, feeling desolate. I wanted to shower. I’d been wearing the same clothes forever. I wanted to sleep, but couldn’t quiet my mind. Everything was foggy and disjointed. I didn’t know what I wanted.

“Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Would you like something to drink?" Stephanie's soft voice cut through some of the murkiness.

"No. I'm not hungry," I paused. “You can go home. You’re probably still tired from your flight. Thank you for picking me up." I didn't recognize the sound of my own voice. It was listless and unexpressive.

"I'm staying with you. It's not up for discussion. You just spent the past sixteen hours hopping on and off planes to get home. You're miserable. And whether you believe it or not, being alone is the worst thing for you right now."

She bristled at my eye roll.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but your message scared the daylights out of me. I've never heard you like that before. I'll stay out of your way but I'm not going home."

I rubbed my eyes, not caring if I smudged whatever mascara was left.

“I’m going to shower,” I droned, going into the bathroom.

Peeling off my clothes, I kicked them into the bedroom. I turned the nozzle all the way to scalding. Hot water streamed over me, washing away only what was on the surface of my skin. When I couldn’t take the heat any longer, I got out and wrapped myself in a fluffy robe. Wiping away the steam from the mirror, I caught a glimpse of the most horrific dark circles known to man. Not caring, I pulled my wet hair into a low bun and went back to the living room.

"Feel a little better after your shower?"

I glared at Stephanie.
What a stupid question.
She shrank into the cushions after seeing the look on my face.

My cell phone beeped. Anticipation swept through me. It could mean a number of things, all of which I wanted to avoid. It beeped again.

“Does it need charging?”

She reached for it, tapping the screen.

“Yeah, it’s dead. I’ll plug it in for you.”

I sat on the couch, still not fully grasping what was happening. “Maybe it’ll help if you talk about it,” Stephanie suggested gently.

I tensed, not wanting to unleash this torrent of despair. If I pushed it down far enough, maybe it would shrivel and die in the pit of my stomach.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Lia. Let it out. I promise to listen. I won’t comment or anything.”

Exhaustion messed with my emotions more than anything. I ground my teeth, trying to overcome this hurdle. Tears squeezed out from my eyes, betraying my resolve. I blurted out everything in a stream of consciousness.

True to her word, she didn’t say anything. She listened without judgment or bias. When I finished, I hugged my knees to my chest and sobbed.

* * *

Hours later, I woke up sweating. I’d gone to bed still wearing the robe and it was burning my skin. Ripping it off, I put on a t-shirt. The quiet room clashed with my frantic thoughts. Unable to rest, I went into the living room. Stephanie was asleep on the couch. I crept through the room and grabbed my phone.