Текст книги "Lovestrong"
Автор книги: Nikki Groom
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 11 страниц)
Chapter 8
In the four days that I’ve been here, I’ve exhausted all the most obvious tourist haunts. I’ve visited the dungeons which almost made me pee myself with fear, ridden on the London Eye, visited the Tower of London, watched the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace and wandered around admiring everything in the National Gallery, twice. I’ve treated myself to traditional English afternoon tea at Harrods, and eaten the best Chinese food in China town. I’ve seen Big Ben, which I didn’t think was that big, and I’ve even taken a tour around the creepy back streets of London to see where Jack the Ripper gruesomely killed his victims. Maybe I should have spaced them out and done one attraction a day, but I was so eager to see as much as I can while I’m here that I couldn’t help myself. It was all so exciting, and each visit was a distraction from the torment of my thoughts.
But now I’m bored. Stone cold bored, and lonely.
London is a huge place. But having seen the main attractions, and not knowing anyone here or having anyone to share all my experiences with, I don’t know what to do or where to go next. Yes, I’ve chatted with people each day who have recommended places for me to see, but I don’t want someone to tell me where to visit. I want someone to visit places with me.
I miss Spike.
So many times I’ve turned to say something to him. So many times I’ve seen something he would love. So many times. I wonder what he’s doing now. Is he still distancing himself from the rest of the world in a struggle to cope with everything that has happened to him? Or is he moving on? Maybe he waited for me to leave before starting his life over again. Maybe he was looking for an out all along?
No. I can’t think like that. We were perfect. We were Lovestrong.
The last few days were just a way of keeping myself busy so I didn’t think about him. I’ve tried over and over again to push all the sadness away and pretend that I’m on the adventure of a lifetime, but it’s actually made me feel more alone than I did before. And now I’m sitting at a table for one in the hotel restaurant with tears pouring down my face, again.
“Is everything okay, miss?” a young waitress asks me. I look up at her through wet lashes. She has kind eyes and a genuinely concerned look on her face.
“No,” I answer quietly. “Everything isn’t okay, and I don’t know if it ever will be.”
“Oh,” she answers, looking awkward now that I’ve not brushed my feelings away out of politeness.
“There’s nothing you can do.” I brush the tears from my cheeks with the back of my knuckles. “I have to deal with it. I just don’t know how.”
“Okay. Uh … Is there anything I can get you?”
“Sambuca,” I answer resolutely. “Make it a double, please.” She hurries off, probably relieved that I changed the subject and didn’t drag her in to a conversation about how fucking awful my life is. She may have asked politely if everything was okay, but there’s one thing I’ve noticed about British people. They are so polite, to the point of masking their feelings and thoughts for fear of upsetting someone. She didn’t really want to know about my life, she was just being polite in asking. She comes back with my double Sambuca in a few minutes and places it on the table, hovering for just a second.
“You know, if it’s a guy, in my experience, they’re never worth the tears.” She gives a small shrug and a wry smile before going back to her job.
He was worth it. He still is. Every tear.
After pushing my half-finished meal away and substituting it for a couple of double Sambucas, my head is nicely clouded. I’ve moved from the restaurant to the bar, where the drinks flow freely. It’s amazing how fast you can drink when all you have to do is raise a finger and the next shot appears in front of you.
“Fancy some company?” A guy sits beside me and I’m about to tell him not to bother chatting me up, but I recognize his face. I frown trying to remember who he is.
“Luke. It’s Luke. I helped you get in to your room when you were fighting with the key card.”
“Ohhhh, yeah. I remember you.”
“Are you enjoying your stay?”
“Is that a line you use on all the girls?” I roll my eyes and turn away from him.
He chuckles at my evasion. “It’s probably a line that’s programmed into my brain from working here actually. I’m not trying to hit on you.”
“No?”
“You disappointed at that?” His lips curve into a cocky smile and instead of looking handsome, he just looks cute.
I frown. “No. Relieved, I think.”
He shakes his head with a snigger. “You wanna see something cool?”
“Depends on what it is. You’re not going to show me an intimate piercing or something, are you?”
“No! I thought I already said I’m not trying to hit on you,” he laughs. “No, I thought you might like to see the other bar we have here.”
“There’s another one?”
“Yup.” His eyes twinkle and he smiles as if he’s just told me a huge secret. “VIPs only.”
“I’m not a VIP.” I dismiss his offer with a shrug of my shoulders.
“You are when you’re with me. Come on.” He hops off the bar stool and holds out his arm for me to link mine with his. The alcohol in my system doesn’t allow me to think much before I take his arm and follow his lead.
We ride the elevator to the fifth floor and when the doors open, I am greeted with a rooftop terrace lit up with pretty white fairy lights around the perimeter and perfectly round potted trees lit up with more fairy lights wound around them.
“Wow. It’s gorgeous up here,” I gasp, wide eyed.
“Sure is. It’s the best kept secret in London.”
There are only a few people up here. A secret bar reserved for VIPs. It actually reminds me a little of the Sky Lounge back home, and my mind drifts to the last night I went there with Spike, Arianna and Denham. That was an awesome night. The first proper night out with Arianna after she came home. We were all so carefree and happy. Moving on.
“Cocktail?” Luke asks, snapping me out of my memories.
“Uh, yeah. Why not?”
“Any preference?”
I’m tempted to ask for a dirty martini, but I’ve reminisced enough tonight and I should be trying something new. Trying to move on. “Surprise me. Just nothing too sweet.” I screw my nose up at the thought of a sugary, sweet cocktail.
“Okay, nothing sweet, coming right up,” Luke laughs, and I roll my eyes. “You wanna find somewhere to sit?”
“Sure.”
I walk along the perimeter of the rooftop, running my fingertip along the shiny chrome bars on top of the wall. The view over the Thames is spectacular and I take out my cell and snap a couple of pictures to send to Arianna and Denham. I contemplate sending one to Spike too. He would love the view up here. He would love London. Well, he would have … before the accident. I can’t even imagine how it would be to try and tackle the crowds of London in a wheelchair.
The walls are lined with wicker sofas and plush cushions. Perfect for settling in to drink cocktails and look at the stars. I take a seat in the corner where it’s quiet, slip off my sandals and tuck my feet underneath me on the chair.
“Here.” Luke says and he hands me a tall glass filled with a lime green liquid and plenty of ice.
“What is it?”
“A mojito,” he informs me.
“Oh, I’ve heard of that. You sure it’s not sweet?”
“Why don’t you try it for yourself?” He nods, indicating to my drink before taking a sip of his own.
Then I freeze. Sensibility takes over the loose alcohol induced thoughts in my brain. “Hang on. I don’t even know you. Why should I trust you? You could have spiked my drink or something. God, I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid.” I jump off the chair, slipping my feet into my sandals and try to balance without spilling my drink. “I’m losing my badass,” I mumble under my breath. “Seriously. I’m sorry, I gotta go. You drink it.” I thrust the drink at him, giving him no choice but to take it from my hand. He looks at me like I’m a mad woman. He’s right. I am.
“Lottie, wait,” he calls out after me. “Lottie. I’m not trying to drug you … I wouldn’t, I, ask Spike …”
My body stops. My mind screams. The whole rooftop seems to still. The breeze drops and I’m not sure if it’s coincidental or if the other patrons have actually stopped their conversations to listen to ours. I turn and pin him with a questioning glare, “What did you just say?”
He drops his head back and takes a deep breath before looking at me. “Lottie, will you please come and sit back here with me so we can talk without the whole of London knowing your business?”
“You know Spike?” My voice comes out at barely a whisper as I walk slowly back to him. This is supposed to be a getaway from Las Vegas and the screw up that ensued. But Spike seems to permeate every part of my life.
“Yes.” He nods.
“How?” I sit on the edge of the chair and Luke hands me back my drink, which I take.
“We met on a student exchange. I stayed with his family. He stayed with mine. We’ve kept in touch ever since. Not often. But, he’s a cool bloke.”
“I don’t understand. How do you know … How …?”
He scrubs a hand across his face and eyes me warily. “He wanted to make sure you were safe. When he called, I told him I’d look out for you. Although you make it pretty difficult when you leave early in the morning and don’t get back here until late. I mean, you could have helped me out a little,” he jokes, trying to make light of the conversation.
“He asked you to watch me?” I whisper, more to myself than Luke.
“No. Not exactly.”
“The Prosecco. Was that from my friend, Ari?”
“What did it say on the card?”
“I didn’t ask you to answer me with a question,” I snap, getting irritated that he won’t tell me the truth. “It was from Spike, wasn’t it? What is wrong with everyone? First Arianna and D book me the room, then Spike gets you to keep an eye on me. They don’t think I’m capable of looking after myself, do they?” I pull my cell out of my pocket and open a new message to text Spike. It’s irrational and unjustified but I need him to back the hell off.
“What are you doing?” Luke asks, sitting forward with a worried look on his face.
“I’m telling Spike to fuck off,” I hiss at him. He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my tone. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not your fault. But I don’t need babysitting. I don’t need looking after. And I don’t need Spike barging in on my life from almost the other side of the world, okay?”
He smirks at me. He actually smirks and leans back in his chair, resting his ankle on the opposite knee. “He said you were feisty.” He takes a mouthful of his mojito and watches as my anger starts to simmer down a little, helped along by his cool demeanor. “Look, I know you want to do this on your own. He just wanted to make sure you were safe, that’s all.”
“When did you speak with him last?” I say quietly, wanting to know how he is. Desperately trying to stop myself from calling him, just to hear his voice.
“Early hours of this morning.” He sits forward on his seat, no doubt getting ready for a barrage of questions.
“Oh,” I answer. There’s actually a little bit of jealousy that runs through me knowing he spoke with Spike so recently. I worry that I’m forgetting the sound of his voice, and replaying the last voice message he left me on my cell doesn’t feel the same as hearing him in real time.
“He told me about you, the accident, his brother and Arianna. He’s broken, Lottie. He’s trying his hardest to work with what he’s been dealt, but he doesn’t know how to right now. He’ll come around. Just give him time.”
“He pushed me away,” I whisper.
“I know,” he answers in a soft voice.
“I sat there for six weeks. Day in, day out. And every day he drifted further from me until he couldn’t even bear to have me there at all. I gave him time and he didn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”
“I’m sorry,” he offers, tilting his head in sympathy.
“Me too.” I close down the blank message and slide my cell back into my pocket with a sigh. Today has been a long emotional day for no reason other than I’ve been wallowing in not just my own self pity, but Spike’s too. “I have to find myself all over again and I thought I could do it here. I wanted a fresh start. But I can’t do it with him lingering in the shadows. He doesn’t get to be part of my destiny anymore. I need to move on.”
He nods. “How will you do that?”
I contemplate his question for a couple of seconds. The truth is, I don’t know if there’s a right way or a wrong way to try and put your life back together after such an unexpected turn of events. But I guess I have to discover things about myself that I never knew and learn all over again what makes me happy, without Spike.
Chapter 9
“Hey bro,” Tara calls as she enters my apartment. Her voice makes my head thump as if I was curled up in the bottom of a bass drum and I reluctantly turn my wheelchair slowly in her direction. “Whoa,” she giggles. “You look like shit. Ari said you had gotten good and drunk yesterday. I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to see it.”
“What the fuck do you want, Tara?” I grumble, and even my own voice bounces off the walls of my head.
“Charming. I came to see how my big bro is doing.” She stands in front of me with her hand on her hip, and a fake smile wiped across her face.
“Well, now you’ve seen how I am, you can fuck off.” I know it’s blunt. But I really don’t care right now.
She replaces the smile with a scowl and stands straighter with a huff. “Has anyone told you that you were a nicer person when Lottie was around?”
“I thought I told you to fuck off.” I’m not in the mood for this today. I just want to be left alone.
“Well, you’re shit out of luck because I came to spend the day with you.” She plops her ass down on the couch, flicks her sandals off and props her feet up on the coffee table.
“Tara,” I huff. “I said−”
“I know what you said. I have got ears, you know.” Her narrowing eyes make her look like an errant teenager, all she needs now is some gum and it would be stereotype complete. “Don’t bother telling me to get out, fuck off, or any other inventive way of trying to get me to go away. I’m not going anywhere.”
Great. Not only do I have the world’s worst hangover, but I get to experience it with Tara. The world definitely hates me. I spin my wheelchair around and make for the direction of my room. “I miss you, okay?” she calls out softly from behind me. “I miss my brother. I want to spend some time with you. Is that so wrong?” She looks at me with a challenge in her eyes. Tara has the stubborn ‘King’ gene. Denham is stubborn too and can be pigheaded to go with it. Growing up I thought I was the one that took after my mom, chilled out, so relaxed I was horizontal. But I guess, these last few weeks, I’ve discovered that my dad’s ‘King’ stubbornness is in all three of us.
“I’m sorry,” I sigh.
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
“Yeah, I guess I have.” I give a half hearted shrug.
“Is that because you’ve been a giant asshole?” she questions, raising her brows unnecessarily high at me.
“Tara!”
“It’s true!” she squeals, but she manages to say it in a way that I don’t take offense. It is true. I have been an asshole.
“I’m trying,” I mumble, looking into my lap.
She smirks. “You’re trying to be an asshole?”
“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes and look to the ceiling for some kind of divine intervention. I’m not sure I can cope with her smart mouth today.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” She perches on the edge of the couch, resting her elbows on her knees and looking at me with those deep brown eyes of hers. “I know it’s hard for you. But you can’t wallow forever. I won’t let you. I know everyone is letting you deal with it all in your own way, but it’s not working. I know why you sent Lottie away. I understand. I really do. But you’re wrong.”
“I’m not even going there, Tara,” I warn through clenched teeth. “If you want to spend time with me, any talk about Lottie is forbidden, okay?”
“Are you trying to forget her altogether?” she asks gently.
“I could never forget her,” I whisper. She’s all I see when I close my eyes and my heart shatters every time I open them and she’s not there. “I just need time to get over her, that’s all. It hurts. It all fucking hurts.”
Tara stands up and comes behind my chair before sliding her arms around me and resting her chin on my shoulder. “I love you, bro.”
“I love you too, sis.”
“Can we spend the day together?”
“Sure,” I reply, tilting my head to rest on hers.
After a little convincing, and a lot of deep breaths and internal pep talks, I agreed to go out with Tara. It’s been an eternity since I spent any time with her and despite her loud mouth and bravado earlier, I can see the little girl lost beneath the façade. It’s not until I stop and look in to her eyes that I realize she’s hurting too. It’s hard for all of us.
“Are you okay?” Tara asks, popping the last bite of a sushi roll in her mouth.
“Um, yeah, kinda,” I shrug dismissively.
“Is it really that hard being out of the apartment?”
“Yeah. No.” I shake my head and sigh. “I can’t really explain it, T. It actually feels good to be out, those four walls were getting kinda boring, but then I look around at all the people here and my heart starts to race. I don’t know them. I don’t know if one of these people might be carrying a gun, loaded with a bullet with my name on it, or if someone’s about to pull a knife on us. I can’t guarantee that the minute we set foot out of here, a car won’t mount the curb and−”
“Stop it. You’re crazy, do you know that?” she replies louder than I would like. I immediately feel like a scolded child. “How many times did you walk freely outside before your accident?” She points a hard stare at me and I shrug. “I’ll tell you how many, thousands. Thousands and thousands, Spike. It was a freak accident. It was a sick son of a bitch with a score to settle, but it’s over and done with. You wanna spend the rest of your life in the apartment, breathing in re-circulated air and watching the world go by from your high rise window? Shit happens. I know it’s easy for me to say because I can still use my legs, but shall I tell you something?” she asks, but continues before I can answer. “There’s not a day that goes by that I wouldn’t trade places with you, do you know that? There’s not a minute that goes by that I don’t think about you, and Lottie and … Jack,” she swallows hard and takes a deep breath.
I lower my gaze to the table, pushing back at the sting of tears in my eyes at the sorrow in her voice. I know I’m wallowing. I know I’m not the only one that was affected, but sometimes, my head is so far up my own ass that I don’t actually see the effect that the repercussion ripples are having. “That fucking asshole that did this to you, to us, might be dead and buried, but he’s still winning. Every second of every day that you don’t fight, he wins. Jack is dead, and you’re not, but you’re acting like you are.” She looks at me through pained, glassy eyes and the silence spreads between us, until a sob breaks free from her throat. “I just want you back. I want my brother back.” She cries loudly, fumbling with her napkin and burying her face in it. I wheel my chair around to her side of the table, feeling grateful that the waiter moved the seating around for us when we arrived.
“Come here,” I whisper, opening my arms to her.
She leans in to my chest, sobbing loudly. “I miss you all. I miss how it was. I just want our lives back.”
“I know,” I say quietly, stroking her hair. “I’m trying.”
“No, you’re not.” She sniffles in to my t-shirt before wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She pulls back and searches my eyes. “You’re not trying, you’re giving up. You’re letting that night ruin your life. You need to fight, Spike. You need to fight for you, and Lottie, and our family.”
“I don’t know how,” I admit. I thought I could just muddle through and it would all work out the way it’s supposed to. But she’s right. I’m falling deeper into a black hole.
“Yes, you do. Remember what Mom always told us?” She straightens in her chair. “If you want something badly enough, you’ll find a way to make it happen. You just have to pull your head out of your ass to see the way forward first.”
I laugh out loud. “Did mom really say that?”
“Well, not word for word. I may have embellished it a little.” She bumps her shoulder with mine before resting her head softly against my cheek. “But do you see where I’m coming from?”
“Yeah, T. I see,” I murmur softly, kissing her hair.
“I love you, Spike.” She wraps her arms around my waist, just like she used to when she was little and was scared of the thunderstorms, searching for reassurance that everything will be okay.
“I love you, too, T.” I tighten my hold on her. It’s the best I can do right now.
