Fourteen
My head was pounding.
After I got back from dad’s last night, I’d made short work of a six-pack of beer, and since I rarely drank, my body wasn’t used to it. Now it was giving me hell. One good thing was that the bed Neil had delivered was like sleeping on a cloud. I needed to commend him on his choice.
I rubbed at my temples, memories from last night flooding back. Michaela came home to find me drinking alone in the kitchen. I must’ve been a pathetic sight. Then I remembered our conversation about Diana and several emotions warred within me. I didn’t exactly regret telling her, but I worried it might change how she saw me. Hell, the reason I’d been hesitant to tell anyone was because I feared them thinking I was weak. I knew that was all kinds of messed up, but it was how I felt.
Michaela’s soft, calming presence and kind words made me feel less alone. Maybe it really was true that a problem shared was a problem halved. The simple act of having her listen to my story felt like a weight had been lifted.
Then I remembered offering to teach her how to be confident with men and cringed. Must’ve been the beer talking. As if I was some fucking expert.
Last night I’d felt a strange stirring in me. Michaela was so pretty and smart and kind. She didn’t know it, but having her around was the only thing keeping me together. Her presence in the house was both peaceful and reassuring. I even flirted with the idea of kissing her, just to see what she’d taste like. It was a moment of madness. I was lonely, missing Mum, and trying to figure out what I wanted from life now that Diana and I were over. Michaela didn’t need me using her just to make myself feel better. So, I threw out the suggestion of tutoring her in the art of flirting. Some part of me thought that if I directed her toward other men, I wouldn’t have any more inappropriate thoughts.
God, I was an idiot.
Besides, she was already texting that bloke, Louis. She didn’t realise it, but she needed zero help in getting male attention. A woman like her could have whoever she wanted.
I picked up my phone and saw that for the first time in three weeks, I didn’t have any missed calls or texts from Diana. Was she finally accepting that we were over? Relief trickled in. Mum’s words echoed in my head, and I knew ending the engagement was the right thing.
That woman will take, take, take until you’ve nothing left to give, boy.
Mum hadn’t known the true extent of how right she was. She’d never been fond of my ex-fiancée. She said I couldn’t see it because I was the one person Diana was sweet to, that you couldn’t trust a person who reserved all their sweetness only for one. Little did she know, that sweetness didn’t last very long behind closed doors.
Finally, I’d snapped. I could see my life so much clearer through this strange mirror of grief. All the lies I’d told myself were suddenly plain as day. And I’d been lying to myself for a long time. I wasn’t happy in my relationship. I’d merely stayed in it out of a kind of skewed loyalty. I felt like ending things would mean I’d stolen all those years from Diana when she could’ve been with someone else.
But then, wasn’t stealing a few years better than stealing an entire lifetime?
I saw that I’d allowed her to direct me, to lead me into things I never would’ve chosen on my own. Hell, even me proposing, was a result of her laying hints and clues. I’d convinced her we should have a long engagement. That way we could save and afford a dream wedding. She hadn’t been happy about it, but she’d gone along. Now I accepted that prolonging the engagement was my subconscious telling me I didn’t really want to be married in the first place.
There was also the fact that I’d been thinking about Michaela a lot. It wasn’t just last night. For months my thoughts had wandered to her, always wondering what she’d think of a particular situation, what advice she’d give.
It was so fucked up.
At first, I didn’t think too much of it. I’d told myself it was simply because she was a friend and we worked together. We got along, had shared interests. But it wasn’t normal to fixate on her smile, the light behind her eyes, the way we laughed together about silly things only we were interested in.
I could talk to her for hours and never once feel bored.
I felt like a dirty old man, obsessing over my twenty-two-year-old assistant. I was a bloody cliché, and I needed to get my act together.
I hated how relieved I was last night when she told me she hadn’t sent that selfie to Louis. And I was jealous of the thought of her taking it in the first place. When it appeared on my phone, I knew I was going to have a hard time forcing myself to delete it.
Sitting up, I ran a hand down my face, groaning at the ache concentrated behind my skull. I headed to the bathroom to take a shower. After that, I decided to grab some breakfast from the café down the street. Michaela definitely deserved a thank you after consoling my pathetic drunken arse last night. Her door was still closed as I passed her room. She was probably sleeping in after the late night.
When I got back, I found her in the kitchen in her pyjamas, sipping on a mug of herbal tea. Her long dark hair hung messily around her shoulders, her eyes tired and her lips puffy. She wore sleep shorts that ended just above the knee and I couldn’t resist a quick glance at her long, shapely legs. She’d never looked prettier, just sitting there tired and hungover and completely unaware of how gorgeous she was.
“Hey,” I said, setting the brown paper bag down on the counter.
“Morning,” she replied, eyes wandering to the bag. “What’s that?”
“Breakfast. I thought you might need a hangover cure after last night.” I handed her one of the cardboard containers.
She took it from me eagerly and I resisted the urge to grin. Why did I always feel so much better when I was around her? It was like whatever she was made of sucked out all the sadness inside me and replaced it with hope. Michaela somehow made me hopeful that one day I might not feel Mum’s absence so starkly. That I wouldn’t regret all the times I wished I’d let her know just how much I adored her. Mum had always been there for me, and it felt wrong to live in a world without her in it. I knew I’d never stop missing her, but maybe there’d come a time when the pain wasn’t quite so powerful.
I took the only other seat, across from her, and opened my own breakfast.
“I was thinking of going shopping for a couch today,” I said.
Michaela glanced up from her food. “Oh, but I thought you weren’t planning on living here after—”
“I’m not,” I cut in. “But we need a couch, and maybe a TV, too. I’m sick of sitting on these crappy folding chairs.”
“They aren’t very comfortable,” Michaela agreed.
“Will you come with me?” I asked impulsively. “I could use your input.”
She blinked. “Um, sure. I don’t have any other plans.”
I nodded, and we fell silent. I wanted to bring up what we’d talked about last night, to thank her again, but I couldn’t think of the right way to broach it.
She tucked some hair behind her ear, and my eyes were drawn to the movement, the delicate line of her neck. “So, about last night,” she said, and my nerves kicked in.
I hadn’t been taking my medication in recent days, and I’d had to keep reminding myself that it was normal to have nerves. It was normal to feel anxiety and fear. It was manageable without medicine, far from overwhelming, and I was sick of being chained to a pill. I knew some people needed them, but I wasn’t one of those people. I started to wonder if I ever truly needed medication at all. It had been something Diana talked me into without really giving me a chance to decide for myself. I’d spent so much time agreeing with her I didn’t even know what my own opinion was anymore.
Besides, I was settled in my career now. Being on TV no longer made me panic like it had at the start, and I was used to the fame that came with it. I shouldn’t have to rely on pills to help me deal with something that no longer scared me.
I cleared my throat. “What about last night?”
Michaela gave a shy smile. “I just wanted to let you know that I meant what I said. If you ever need to talk, about anything at all, I’m here.”
My chest warmed at her kind reminder, the way her open, guileless brown eyes stared across the table at me. She had no idea how much it meant for her to say that, to know I had someone outside of my family and friends who I could confide in. For some reason, I felt more comfortable talking to her than I did with my brother or sisters, even my best friends. There was just something incredibly non-judgemental about Michaela. It drew me to her in a way I’d never been drawn to anyone before.
“Thank you,” I said, and on instinct, I reached out and touched her hand, my fingers brushing her knuckles. I’d only meant to convey my gratefulness, but the spark of heat that ran from her body to mine was jarring. I quickly removed my hand and stood from the table.
“Right, well, I was going to leave to go couch shopping in about an hour.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said with a nod, and I went upstairs.
How was being in the same room with her so intense all of a sudden? Maybe it was because I hadn’t been aware of my attraction to her for a long time. What it meant. It was clearly the reason why I gravitated to her, but I’d always thought it was simply a personality thing. We got along well, so obviously I’d enjoy her company. I never knew my heart wanted something from her. Something it never had. I couldn’t deny there was a warmth in Michaela where Diana had only ever been cold.
It felt horrible to compare them, but I couldn’t help it. Diana had been suffocating me for years. Now that we were over, I finally felt like I could breathe again.