The One Addicted (4 page)

    
God, I sound so bitter and angry and I am utterly devastated by it
all
– this was totally different to the time when I’d split with my ex, Niall. That had been a rough-ride because of Finn, but I’d felt relief in some respects. I hadn’t ached for the loss of Niall, the way my soul aches for Sebastian.
    
This time I am… completely… irrefutably… broken.
    
I’d fallen way too deep, too fast.
 

I’m broken but deep-down all I want, despite what has happened, is for him to come and put me back together and I hate myself for my weakness.

*****

   
Finally, after much pressure from Abby and my sister Suzie to snap out of it before Finn figured out anything was seriously adrift, I frame myself and on the morning of day 8 of Armageddon. It was Monday, and an extremely bright and sunny one at that, as I shower, dress for work, drop Finn off at crèche en route and head to work. Those simple daily tasks, usually done in a whirlwind of repetition, drain me to the brink of exhaustion. I’d remembered to leave Finn’s overnight bag with Daisy, his crèche nurse as my Mum and Dad were having him until Wednesday so I could play catch-up. I remind myself to thank Suze for arranging it all, as I couldn’t face talking to Mum yet; she’d know something was wrong immediately - mother’s instinct maybe?
    
As I struggle through my emotional fog filled with shadowy thoughts of Sebastian, I shake my head in exasperation, each time determined to frame myself and vanquish him from my existence. The longest I’ve managed is 2 minutes.
Wow!
Sooner or later I’ll have to throw myself back into working on The Ashton project and I’d need to call Nathan to iron a few things out before progressing. I’m hoping that he’ll then agree to project manage the job on Chris' and Seb’s behalf, as there was no fucking way I’d be dealing with either of those arrogant knob-heads!
    
Arriving at work, I throw my bag on the desk; click my Mac into life and head to the kitchen for a cuppa. I see Jackie on the phone as I pass, and tap her lightly on the shoulder in hello, causing her to spin energetically on her chair and send me a shocked eyebrow raise, quickly followed by a sympathetic frown. I feel bad eavesdropping but her conversation sounds pretty juicy so I flick the kettle on, and wait by the door for it to boil. I can still hear her gossiping at this range, without it being too obvious; I needed someone else’s nonsense to cloud my own crap, to get me through today.
     
Baby steps, Lu - you can do this.
    
“I can’t talk… no… I just can’t!
Yes
. I’ll sort it. Gotta go.”
     
Someone had riled Jackie – she didn’t usually raise her voice. I hear the phone rock back into its cradle and busy myself adding a Yorkshire teabag to Jackie’s ‘Screw you’ cup - its makes me smile, the first in a while. I’m stirring the brew, as she enters the kitchen, with a reflective beam on her welcoming face.
    
“Hey! You’re back.”
 
I hand her a steaming mug of heavily brewed tea that would make a builder proud and clink my own against it, careful not to spill the hot liquid.
 
    
“I’m back,” I nod with a light smirk; and I honestly felt like I was back - in the land of the living.
I am back in the secure confines of business, where I am ultimately in control and could put my frustrations to good use and take my mind off
The Bastard
.
    
Broken, but still standing.
    
Hollow, but still breathing.

*****

I spend the next two hours catching up with Jackie about our clients - going through messages, e-mails and arranging appointments. Colin was on a site visit with an existing client to decorate their new extension and Jackie has been busy working her magic with a marketing e-shot, designed for us by Abby, earlier in the month. My superstar assistant had really done her work, trawling through our database and cherry picking our target audience, for both *B2B and *B2C clients. You could cleverly analyse how successful the mailer had been and from the figures she’d flashed in front of me, it had been worth the time and effort – we had several hot new leads to follow and a further three new potential clients.

    
“Well done, Jack. You’ve done Elysium and
me
proud, hun.” I watch as she proudly preens under my compliments. “Seriously, I don’t know what I’d have done without you, the past few days.”
    
“Happy to keep things ticking over, Lucia - honestly. Are you OK?”
     
I look up at her sharp blue inquisitive eyes and quickly remind myself that whilst lovely, she’s still a member of staff. “Yeah, I’m fine - just had a crappy tummy bug that’s all – couldn’t seem to shift it.” I flounder over the words, hating the fact that it was so easy to lie.
    
She doesn’t look convinced but thankfully changes the subject. “Well, I’m always here to talk if you need to. Nathan just called by the way. He wanted to tell you he’d meet you at The Ashton in an hour. Hope that’s OK? He’s over-seeing things from here-on out.”
    
My shoulders relax in relief and I check my watch and chew my lip, nothing like cutting it fine. “Mmm, think I can make it. Are we done here for now?”
    
“Yep. All done.”
     
Her cheery infectious smile is warming and I nod, grateful for her efficiency and calming demeanor.

“Fine. If you could confirm with him that I’ll meet him there at 2pm, that would be great.”

“No probs. Oh and these came for you yesterday. I was going to drop them round but thought it best to leave you to recover.”
    
I watch her retrieve a luxury black velvet box from her desk. The FWC logo, emblazoned across its top and take a deep breath.
 

    
WTF?
 

    
“Are you OK, Lu?”
     
I look up into Jackie's concerned eyes. “Yep, I’m fine - thanks for this.

   
“This is the fifth or is it the sixth one you’ve received now? It’s all very romantic.” Her sigh and ladylike princess spin on her chair would be adorable if I wasn’t so pissed.
    
“Sixth.”
    
Why was he sending me more roses? Cock!
   
“And also these…” she grabs the huge black glass vase on reception console, filled with dozens of white and black calla lilies, the darker version, more deep purple in colour and harsh against the masses of white trumpets. I hadn’t even noticed them as I’d entered. They were bloody gorgeous and very elegant! “They came with this card.”
    
I slip the card out of the envelope and close my eyes, take a second and open them again to focus on his scrawl; he was nothing if not grand with his gestures.

The Black Calla Lily signifies 

Grace, Decadence & Lust,

It’s also known to be given, as a last gift to lovers when they end a relationship;

Let these symbolise your beauty. Don’t let this be the end of everything, Lu. S x

  
I can’t deal with this now - its all too much - and grabbing the rose box, I lift the lid and prepare myself for the strong, now familiar heady perfume of the deep, almost ruby black rose that rests within silver tissue. The diamanté pin in its head, glints as the sun hits it but all I see is a beautiful coffin; a grave of our relationship. The thick cream card nestles just underneath and looking up at the ceiling I consider whether to read it - can I put myself through more of this torment?
    
What more can he say?
    
With a hard lip bite, before diving in, I retrieve it and scan the scripted words.

  
I should have binned the bloody thing the second I saw it. I can’t be arsed. I grab my bag and say my goodbyes to Jackie before making my way out to meet Nathan for our meeting.
    
Time to face things head on.
 

*****

The drive to The Ashton is filled with non-stop calls from the office and clients and I conveniently end the last call confirming my appointment tomorrow at The Gilded Fox, with Carolyn Walters, just as I enter Holdgate Village. Turning into the sweeping driveway, the gravel popping under my tyres like firecrackers, I sigh as I see my phone ringing again. It’s Nathan. I undo my seatbelt and click the hold button promptly. I’d be seeing him in a few minutes, so there was no point answering. I’m still not happy with him, but I know one minute in his amiable company and he’d be forgiven – providing he didn’t speak about his shite of a brother.
    
Debbie, James Marcell’s efficient PA, meets me in the foyer – she is a great tonic on a grey day; all efficient and perky and ten minutes later, I’ve caught up with her on few key points about progress on the design and building works within the hotel. James is away hunting at present, so I’m unlikely to see him around, which was a shame, as I wanted to thank him for my recent referral.
     
Who the hell went ‘hunting’ these days anyhow?
I could definitely envisage him
and
Colin, in full dressage, astride a horse. Colin would ride anything, given half a chance.
    
Heading up to the Honeymoon Suite, the noise from power tools, growing more deafening as I near, I smooth my hands down my tailored crop suit pants. I’d made an effort today – to make myself feel better, I tell myself, but it was hardly site-wear. My Reiss black suit with fitted blazer was always a staple in my wardrobe and I’d paired it with a blush, barely there, silk blouse, huge vintage statement necklace and nude stilettos. My hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and make-up kept simple, with smoky eyes and nude lips; my glasses perched schoolteacher-like on my nose – hopefully they’d help me appear more in control that I am at the moment.
    
At the imposing and elaborate double doors, I pause, take a breath and enter. The site that hits me is chaotic. Workmen littered the room, calling out orders, moving materials and generally getting busy – that’s what I liked to see. I take a moment to get a feeling for the general state of affairs. Things were certainly starting to come together. I could see past the mess, grime and dust – I’d done it a million times. All I could envisage was the end product; the big picture. It wouldn’t be long before the carpets were going down.
    
I smile at one of the workers I’d met at the start of the job as he shyly nods at me, his mask in place.
Danny was it?
I can see two guys struggling with a chunk of heavy and intricate moulding, presumably produced and ready to be slotted into the corner of the immense suite’s ceiling, to fix the gap that currently exists. The fireplace is in and looks beautiful and bloody huge - all matt black and brushed pewter – just what I’d hoped for but the Italian marble fire surround is not there; I make a mental note to clarify its whereabouts. Nathan’s joinery is now in place, along the wall that houses the large Georgian windows and a wall-to-wall seating box rests there, like it had been for decades. But the bed is the piece de résistance. It was everything I’d dreamed of and more and once the fabric and curtains adorned it, the result would be majestic. I look up at the ceiling and can see that the cracks and water damage from earlier years had been repaired and re-plastered and the decorative ornate cornicing all touched up. They really had cracked on the past few days. I loved this part when you could see your baby start to take its first steps. The Silver Construction team, were nothing if not reliable and trustworthy – obviously not traits picked-up from their Boss.
    
“You came.”