Sexy Love (Sexy Series Book 4) (26 page)

That, along with utter exhaustion is the formula that sends me into a long, dark and restless sleep. Hope is all I can do, because the other possibility is far too difficult to contemplate.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THURSDAY 16TH APRIL

Today was the day that the work in my department finally eased up. We hit every deadline and the remaining major project that we had been working so hard on, was completed.

We’re back to our usual every day work with all of the other major projects spread throughout the year easily, as opposed to all at once as they were so recently.

We always manage when we get busy like that, it wouldn’t be acceptable to fail and my staff is aware of this, but we tend to work through it without panic, which makes everybody’s day a little less stressful. I try to encourage the same attitude throughout my entire department, and the company as a whole. It makes for a much more enjoyable working environment.

I’ll arrange something to thank everybody in the next week or so.

It has been really quite difficult to concentrate on work for the first time in my life, this past week and a half since the anniversary party. Sebastian said he’d be in touch when he got back from his travels, and I had really hoped to hear from him, but I haven’t.

My stomach churns every time I think of him or hear his name. I have tried to avoid talking to my friends for fear of having to answer questions about him. Of course I can tell them he’s working away so I haven’t heard from him, but I don’t want to have to even say his name.

Tilly would want me to tell her all about my worries and fears right now because she’d say that it’ll help me to share and listen to others’ opinions of the whole situation, but other than never wanting to discuss this again, I also don’t want my friends to think badly of him.
Why is that?

I texted him once a couple of days ago when I thought he might have returned as he originally said he’d be away for a few days. I only said that I had hoped his travels were smooth and that I looked forward to hearing from him, in the hope that it might have prompted some kind of response. It didn’t.

I don‘t understand it, I thought everything was fantastic before the party, I thought we had really hit it off, and this awful sinking feeling that fills me night and day is almost impossible to bear.

I never thought I’d be the type of person to want to hide away in my home, but every morning without fail, I’ve had to force myself to go into work to ensure these projects were finalised, when all I really wanted to do was curl up on the couch with a comforter, a cup of coffee and a huge selection of cheesy romance novels to help me escape my reality.

I still get by on hope that he might be in contact soon, but with every day that passes after my text message, that hope dwindles a little more, and the ache in my chest augments.

He must have tried and tested and decided he didn’t like. And that thought makes me want to vomit. I just can’t stop thinking that it was so sudden, so unexpected. How could he be interested in me one minute, and then not be able to even look at me the next?

So yet again, I’m in bed earlier than necessary in the hope that I’ll fall asleep and forget for a while. I wonder how long it’ll take to get over him, I’ve never really had to get over anybody before, It’s definitely not something I wanted to have to experience.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THURSDAY 23
RD
APRIL

Nothing. Rien. Nada, niente, nichts, res, ekkert. Two and a half weeks of cold, miserable silence.

It’s clear he’s not interested and that it’s not work keeping him away, but I had still held out that dumb hope that he might get back in touch.

I have been so tempted to contact him to try to make him think of me and remember the amazing times we had together, not to mention to make sure that he’s okay, but I know he’s okay. Not only did that message I sent him deliver, it was also marked as ‘read’.

He chose not to reply for whatever reason, and I need to come to terms with the fact that I’m not going to see him in the same capacity again. I thought - as is always so commonly spoken - that time will heal and I’ll feel better with each day that comes. It hasn’t, and I feel even worse than I did last week. This is the second day in a row that I haven’t gone into work. I
never
take time off work unless I am on vacation, and when I say vacation, I mean out of State.

Vacation days to stay home have never been of any interest to me. When I realised I wouldn’t be able to go in today either, I knew I had to call to book official time off, and I’ll just have to think of somewhere to go to help me justify my actions to myself. Maybe just booking into a local hotel somewhere will make me feel a little better about it.

I haven’t eaten for days and my stomach hurts. I try to eat, I do, but my mouth refuses to comply and as soon as I begin to chew, I have to spit it out.

I’m a mess and I think it’s made even worse by my own inability to tolerate this kind of weakness.

It’s eleven, and where I draw the line at slobbing around the place in pyjamas (I am fully washed and dressed), I am still doing what I would usually find abhorrent – shuffling around my apartment, hunched over, clutching a cup of coffee and my Kindle.

I can appreciate how it might be comfortable to curl up on the couch under a blanket in pyjamas; jeans and a sweater really aren’t all that cosy, but I just can’t bring myself to do that, I’ve never been able to wear nightwear past nine.

Entering the kitchen, I sigh; nothing new in here, nothing interesting, just my coffee machine sympathising with me, doing what it does best and brewing me the best cup of coffee in town. I love how it’s looking after me, and it’s about the only thing I
would
let look after me.

As it gets to business, I put my Kindle on the counter and rest against the cupboard doors, covering my face with my hands and massaging my forehead with my fingertips. If I was a crier, I can imagine I’d be a puffy, red mess right now. Instead, I’m still inconsolable, but I’m just a miserable bitch with every single muscle in my body – tense and aching.

Occasionally, I think it’d be nice to have a little kitten or dog with me, so I could scoop it up and at least talk to something that’ll cuddle me back, but I’m really not an animal person and as soon as I remember why I have never bought myself a furry friend, I realise I’m only looking for some interaction. My coffee machine, as sweet as it is, simply doesn’t cuddle.

With my steamy, fresh cup in my hand, I take my Kindle back and shuffle to the living room. I decide fresh air would be good for me, and I tuck my Kindle under my arm to open the balcony doors. Stepping out into the warm but slightly overcast day, I fill my lungs with fresh air and feel that punch in the gut when I remember why I am here, doing this.

I sit in a chair, putting my coffee down on the table and resting my slippered feet on the other chair, and I close my eyes for a moment. I just can’t see how this feeling is going to go away. It seems there’s nothing more detrimental to one’s health than angst, upset and uncertainty – because I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

As I open up the Kindle to a new book, I rest back to relax, take a sip of coffee and… yes, you got it – my phone begins to ring. Couldn’t it have rung when I was in the kitchen? Did it have to wait until I got myself comfortable and ready to lose myself in romantic, idyllic fiction?

I groan as I stand and walk back into the apartment to collect the handset, and take it back out to the balcony, answering it begrudgingly.

“Alexia Berkeley,”

“Lex! How are you? I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for so long!”
The familiar, friendly tone creates a brief distraction from the blues and I smile, sincerely, as I respond.

“It’s so good to hear from you, how are you?”

“Oh fine, fine – but how are you? Why aren’t you at work?”
Clare asks.
“I called your office and they said you’re on vacation, but you’re not?”

“I had a couple of hectic months at work and it just eased up, so I thought I’d take some days vacation – maybe go somewhere.”

“That’s not like you, are you spending it with anyone special?”
she asks, teasingly, and I know she’s referring to Sebastian, and so the painful spasms begin again.

“No, no – I’m just taking some time out. Anyway, how is Oliver?”
Please accept my change of subject, please?

“
He’s great, he’s pretty much back to himself, give or take a few little things, he’s at work at the moment.”

“How are the headaches?”

“He still has them, but they’re getting better and he hardly grumbles at all, he’s amazing, he’s my inspiration. Every time I moan about discomfort during the pregnancy, I remember how lucky I am to be going through this, how pregnancy is natural and with every pain or ache – I should feel reassured that it’s because my babies are moving and growing. I have my Oliver and we have our babies.”

It puts things into perspective, really. Clare almost
lost
her
husband
. I didn’t even have a boyfriend; I’ve simply been discarded. Why is this such a big deal? Why am I moping around grieving? Sebastian is alive and kicking and totally disinterested in me; he’s not in a coma, he’s not my life partner,
get the fuck over it, Alexia.
I feel ashamed of myself.

“Wow, what an amazing way to look at it. But, you know, Clare – you can moan, you are carrying twins, it must get painful at times, just because Oliver went through, and continues to go through what happened, it doesn’t mean you can’t have pain yourself. Just because you didn’t have a terrible accident, it doesn’t mean carrying twins, or even one baby for that matter, is easy.”

“I know, but it really isn’t that bad. Thank you for that, though. I appreciate it. So, what’s happening with you, then?”

“Oh, not a lot.”

“Come on, I know you’ve been seeing Sebastian, are you going to tell me about it?”

“Oh, there’s really nothing to tell.”
Please can we not do this?

“I don’t believe that for one second, Lex.”

“No, really, Clare. It’s… it’s nothing.”

She pauses.
“Lex?”
she whispers.

“Yes?”

“What happened?”
Her voice, along with her manner is, and has always been, so gentle, so sweet and caring. If I was a crier, I think I’d be in floods of tears by now.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to talk about it, but I feel like I have to respond, whether it’s for me or Clare – I’ve no idea, but it wants to come out instead of my usual clamming up.

“Alexia,”
she whispers again,
“you can tell me, please don’t feel like you have to, but you know you can talk to me.”

“It’s just… it didn’t work out.”
I admit, quietly.

“Is that why you’re off work?”

“I… no, I don’t do that.”
I lie.

“Okay – it’s okay, though, if you decide one day to take a leaf out of everybody else’s book and need some time off life for a while because you’re sad.”

“I know, thank you.”

“So what happened? I can tell you’re not yourself. Are you sad?”

I take a deep breath before admitting it. “
I am.”

“Aw, that’s okay, doll. It happens to all of us.”

“It’s never happened to me before. I don’t like it, not one bit.”

“Well, it has to happen to everyone at least once, it means you really felt something, you know?”

“Yes, I do know. He just… it was just so good. He went AWOL once before, which was annoying, but he came back and it was wonderful after that. He’s done it again, but this time – he’s not coming back.”
Wow, it’s flowing.
“It was so unexpected, we were having such a wonderful time, and then ‘poof!’ he’s gone.”

“Have you heard from him at all?”

“No.”

“Wait, didn’t you go to Til and Luke’s party together?”

“Yes, that was the night… well, it all went horrible.”

“Did you have an argument?”

“No!”
I cry, it’s all coming out now.
“That’s just it! We got there and were really happy, then throughout the night became separated as we got swept up into discussion with different clusters of people, and then by the time we went home – he was cold, distant and that was the last I heard from him.”

“Really?”
she asks, bewildered.

“Really.”

“Have you spoken to Bea or Tilly about it?”

“No, I haven’t spoken to anybody.”

She tuts, but refrains from scolding me for holding back when I should call on friends for help.
“Do you think something happened at the party? Did he speak to anyone about anything?”

“I have no idea, it’s all I’ve been thinking about, I feel sick all the time, Clare. I don’t understand what’s happening to me, I have never felt like this before.”

“Well, you’re in love with him, that’s why this is happening.”

I contemplate arguing, I almost respond, but something inside me stops me from doing so. Is it time that I admit that maybe I have fallen in love with him? I can’t imagine feeling like this if I wasn’t, but it’s definitely not something I could bear vocalising, so I won’t. Silence can speak the words that I can’t.

We continue to talk for an hour, or even more – I lose track of the time as I pose all of my questions to Clare, and she aids me by confirming my right to be utterly confused. I would like a firm, solid answer, but at least her agreement makes me feel less crazy.

To tell the truth, I don’t feel any clearer about it, but as Tilly keeps telling me, it does feel a lot better to lighten the load, even though Clare already has a load of her own, and I feel terrible for adding my shit to that. Hopefully she’ll forget my drama as soon as she puts the phone down.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Lex, I really don’t. Men are so strange.”

“Some men are, for sure. Nobody I know seems to have one of the crazy ones, but I suppose it’s luck of the draw.”

“It’s probably because we’ve all been through our fair share of them and have found our right ones at the end of it all. You’re not used to letting guys in enough to allow the weirdness to take hold! I’m sure Sebastian has his reasons, whatever they may be, and it’ll become clear at some stage. I’d like to slap him silly right now, don’t get me wrong, but still – reasons he must have. It seems like he was falling for you, too – from what you say.”

“Oh, no – Clare, I have no idea about that. I doubt it.”

“Hmm. Well anyway, what are you planning for the rest of your time off? How long do you have?”

“I booked a week, we’ll see. I haven’t organised anything yet, I might check into a hotel just to say I did something. Maybe go to Cabo or something.”

“Well, I know it’s a long way – but you’re so welcome to come and stay here with us. The weather is crap and there’s not a lot to tempt you with, but some good old English air never did anyone any harm.”

I smile, thinking back to the last time I was in London properly, last year. Before Oliver had his accident, it was just perfect. Of course everything was very traumatic and hectic after that but I have wanted to visit again for so long. Daniel and Bea are back over there now, too.

“Thank you for the offer, Clare. Considering my brother mostly lives there now, I’m surprised I didn’t think of a trip to London. I could even work a little. I’ll think about it and get back to you, is that okay?”

“Yes! Of course. You know we have plenty of room and I would love to have you stay with me again, in happier circumstances. Bea and Daniel have room, too, of course, if you’d be more comfortable there.”

“Oh I’d have a lovely time in either place. Thank you, Clare.”

“You’re welcome! Hopefully I’ll see you in a day or two?”

“Yes – maybe. I’ll call you later, is that okay?”

“Definitely! Ooh I’m excited!”

“If I come, I’m excited to see your big bump! How long is left?”

“Eight weeks, they’re due on our anniversary.”

“Wow, how fast a year goes.”

“Yep!”
I can practically hear her rubbing her swollen belly as we speak.

We sign off and I sit back for a moment, seriously contemplating a short trip away to London. Oh how I’d love to visit that sweet old pub we went to that day that the ‘pipes leaked’ at the Cakery and Oliver and Clare had to ‘go fix it’. Fun days.