Promised
Page 93
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I’m bundled into his car carefully, like he’s worried I might break. I might – if I’m not broken already. I want to rewind the evening, change so many things, but where would I be then, apart from unaware and completely in the dark?
‘Would you like me to take you home?’ he asks quietly, settling cautiously in his seat.
I turn my blank face to his. The roles are reversed. It’s him showing all of the emotion now, not me. ‘Where else would I want to go?’ I ask.
His eyes drop, he starts the engine, and I’m driven home with Snow Patrol reminding me to open my eyes.
The journey is slow, like he’s dragging it out, making it last for the longest time, and when he slowly pulls up outside Nan’s house, I open the door to get out without delay.
‘Livy.’ He sounds desperate as he seizes my arm and stops me from getting any further, but he says no more. I’m not sure what he can say, and he clearly doesn’t either.
‘What?’ I ask, hoping I’m going to wake at any moment and find myself wrapped in his thing, safe in his bed away from the cold harshness of the reality that I’ve found myself in – a reality that is all too familiar.
The silence is disturbed by Miller’s phone, and he stabs at the reject button on a curse, but it soon rings again. ‘Fuck!’ he yells, tossing it onto the dashboard. It stops and chimes again.
‘You’d better get that.’ I pull my arm from his grip. ‘I expect they are all prepared to hand over their thousands for a night with London’s most notorious male escort. You may as well make some extra cash while you f**k a woman. I must owe you thousands.’
I ignore his wince and leave him in the car with a face full of hurt, set on throwing all my energy into getting over the second prostitute I’ve been landed with in my short life. Except this one accepted and comforted me. This one will be harder to get over. No, this one will be impossible to get over. I can feel a darker solitude awaiting me.
Chapter 24
When dawn breaks, I’m still staring blankly up at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was a catch-22 situation – fall asleep and have nightmares, or stay awake and live them. My decision was made for me. I couldn’t sleep. My poor mind isn’t being given any respite and my eyes are being bombarded with flashbacks of his face. I’m in no fit state to face the world. Just as I feared, I’m further in solitary than I ever was before I met Miller Hart.
My mobile chimes from my bedside table and I reach over, knowing it could be only one of two people, but going by the defeated look on Miller’s face last night, I’m opting for Gregory. He’ll want the lowdown from the rest of my weekend with the coffee-hater. I’m right. I feel no guilt as I reject his call and let the voicemail pick it up. I can’t speak to anyone. I fire him a quick text.
Late 4 work. Call u later. Hope u r ok xx
I might be late, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter because I’m not going anywhere, except further under my covers where it’s dark and silent. I hear the creaking of floorboards, and then the chirpy singing of Nan. It makes my eyes swell with tears again, but I brush them determinedly away when she barrels into my room and hits me with delighted navy eyes.
‘Morning!’ she chirps, making her way to my curtains and flinging them open. The morning light attacks my eyes.
‘Nan! Shut the curtains!’ I burrow under my covers, escaping the brightness but mostly escaping the look of her cheerful face. It’s eating me up inside.
‘But you’ll be late.’
‘I don’t have to work today.’ I’m on autopilot as I blurt an excuse to keep me in bed and hopefully Nan away. ‘I’m working Friday night so Del gave me today off. I’m going to catch up on some sleep.’ I keep my face hidden under the covers and even though I can’t see her, I know she’s smiling.
‘Didn’t get much sleep at Miller’s over the weekend, then?’ The delight in her tone cripples me.
‘No.’ This is a ridiculously inappropriate conversation to be having with my grandmother, but I know it’ll pacify her and give me some peace . . . for now. I have no room to accept any guilt for lying to her.
‘Wonderful!’ she cries. ‘I’m going shopping with George.’ I feel her hand rub my back over the bedcovers briefly before her footsteps get quieter and the door to my room closes.
Finding the strength to break my split with Miller to Nan will have to wait until I can think of a plausible reason. She won’t settle for anything less than a full explanation. She doesn’t love Miller Hart; she loves the idea of me being happy and in a stable relationship. But if I’m mistaken and she does love Miller, then I can soon remedy that . . . but I won’t. My recent revelation will only stir ghosts for Nan, too. She might be spunky, but she’s still an old lady. I’ll suffer this darkness alone.
I relax into my mattress and attempt to find sleep, hoping my dreams don’t bring more nightmares.
I was hoping in vain. My sleep was restless, seeing me waking regularly, sweating, breathless, and mad. I give up come evening. After forcing myself to shower, I lie wrapped in a towel on the bed, trying to rid my mind of Miller and desperately trying to seek something else to focus on. Anything other than him.
I should join a gym. I bolt upright in bed. I have joined a gym. ‘Bollocks!’ I grab my phone and note that I have forty minutes to get myself to my induction. I can do it, and it’s the perfect distraction. They say working out alleviates stress and gets the feel-good pheromones pumping. It’s just what I need. I swing into a rushed frenzy, stuffing some leggings, an oversized T-shirt and my white Converse into a bag. I’ll look like a complete amateur, with no sporty-looking get-up in sight, but it’ll do for now. I’ll go shopping. I bundle my heavy hair up with a hair tie as I scurry down the landing, coming to a stop when my phone declares the arrival of a text message. Walking slowly down the stairs, my heart drops with each step I take when I see it’s him.
I’ll be at Langan’s Brasserie on Stratton St at 8.
I want my four hours.
My arse hits the step halfway down the stairs, and I stare at the message, reading it over and over. He’s had far more than his four hours already. What point is he trying to make here? He’s holding me to a deal which was made weeks ago, and has since been quashed by feelings and too many encounters to list. He even said himself that it was a stupid deal. It really was a stupid deal. It still is a stupid deal.
His unreasonable demand stirs years of anger until it’s fizzing uncontrollably in my gut. I’ve battled years of self-torture. I’ve beat myself up trying to understand what my mother found that was more important than me and my grandparents. I’ve watched the agony she caused affect my dear nan and gramps, and I’ve tinkered too close to causing more agony myself. I still could, if Nan ever discovered where I really was during my disappearing spell. He’s listened to me spill my heart to him, he drowned me in compassion, and all the while he was the king of debasement? I glance back down at his message. He thinks by reverting back to the clipped, arrogant arsehole he’ll have me falling at his feet again? A red mist falls, blocking the questions I want to ask and the answers I need to find. I can see nothing except resentment, hurt and burning anger. I’m not going to the gym to lash out my hurt on a treadmill or punchbag. Miller can take it all.
‘Would you like me to take you home?’ he asks quietly, settling cautiously in his seat.
I turn my blank face to his. The roles are reversed. It’s him showing all of the emotion now, not me. ‘Where else would I want to go?’ I ask.
His eyes drop, he starts the engine, and I’m driven home with Snow Patrol reminding me to open my eyes.
The journey is slow, like he’s dragging it out, making it last for the longest time, and when he slowly pulls up outside Nan’s house, I open the door to get out without delay.
‘Livy.’ He sounds desperate as he seizes my arm and stops me from getting any further, but he says no more. I’m not sure what he can say, and he clearly doesn’t either.
‘What?’ I ask, hoping I’m going to wake at any moment and find myself wrapped in his thing, safe in his bed away from the cold harshness of the reality that I’ve found myself in – a reality that is all too familiar.
The silence is disturbed by Miller’s phone, and he stabs at the reject button on a curse, but it soon rings again. ‘Fuck!’ he yells, tossing it onto the dashboard. It stops and chimes again.
‘You’d better get that.’ I pull my arm from his grip. ‘I expect they are all prepared to hand over their thousands for a night with London’s most notorious male escort. You may as well make some extra cash while you f**k a woman. I must owe you thousands.’
I ignore his wince and leave him in the car with a face full of hurt, set on throwing all my energy into getting over the second prostitute I’ve been landed with in my short life. Except this one accepted and comforted me. This one will be harder to get over. No, this one will be impossible to get over. I can feel a darker solitude awaiting me.
Chapter 24
When dawn breaks, I’m still staring blankly up at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was a catch-22 situation – fall asleep and have nightmares, or stay awake and live them. My decision was made for me. I couldn’t sleep. My poor mind isn’t being given any respite and my eyes are being bombarded with flashbacks of his face. I’m in no fit state to face the world. Just as I feared, I’m further in solitary than I ever was before I met Miller Hart.
My mobile chimes from my bedside table and I reach over, knowing it could be only one of two people, but going by the defeated look on Miller’s face last night, I’m opting for Gregory. He’ll want the lowdown from the rest of my weekend with the coffee-hater. I’m right. I feel no guilt as I reject his call and let the voicemail pick it up. I can’t speak to anyone. I fire him a quick text.
Late 4 work. Call u later. Hope u r ok xx
I might be late, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter because I’m not going anywhere, except further under my covers where it’s dark and silent. I hear the creaking of floorboards, and then the chirpy singing of Nan. It makes my eyes swell with tears again, but I brush them determinedly away when she barrels into my room and hits me with delighted navy eyes.
‘Morning!’ she chirps, making her way to my curtains and flinging them open. The morning light attacks my eyes.
‘Nan! Shut the curtains!’ I burrow under my covers, escaping the brightness but mostly escaping the look of her cheerful face. It’s eating me up inside.
‘But you’ll be late.’
‘I don’t have to work today.’ I’m on autopilot as I blurt an excuse to keep me in bed and hopefully Nan away. ‘I’m working Friday night so Del gave me today off. I’m going to catch up on some sleep.’ I keep my face hidden under the covers and even though I can’t see her, I know she’s smiling.
‘Didn’t get much sleep at Miller’s over the weekend, then?’ The delight in her tone cripples me.
‘No.’ This is a ridiculously inappropriate conversation to be having with my grandmother, but I know it’ll pacify her and give me some peace . . . for now. I have no room to accept any guilt for lying to her.
‘Wonderful!’ she cries. ‘I’m going shopping with George.’ I feel her hand rub my back over the bedcovers briefly before her footsteps get quieter and the door to my room closes.
Finding the strength to break my split with Miller to Nan will have to wait until I can think of a plausible reason. She won’t settle for anything less than a full explanation. She doesn’t love Miller Hart; she loves the idea of me being happy and in a stable relationship. But if I’m mistaken and she does love Miller, then I can soon remedy that . . . but I won’t. My recent revelation will only stir ghosts for Nan, too. She might be spunky, but she’s still an old lady. I’ll suffer this darkness alone.
I relax into my mattress and attempt to find sleep, hoping my dreams don’t bring more nightmares.
I was hoping in vain. My sleep was restless, seeing me waking regularly, sweating, breathless, and mad. I give up come evening. After forcing myself to shower, I lie wrapped in a towel on the bed, trying to rid my mind of Miller and desperately trying to seek something else to focus on. Anything other than him.
I should join a gym. I bolt upright in bed. I have joined a gym. ‘Bollocks!’ I grab my phone and note that I have forty minutes to get myself to my induction. I can do it, and it’s the perfect distraction. They say working out alleviates stress and gets the feel-good pheromones pumping. It’s just what I need. I swing into a rushed frenzy, stuffing some leggings, an oversized T-shirt and my white Converse into a bag. I’ll look like a complete amateur, with no sporty-looking get-up in sight, but it’ll do for now. I’ll go shopping. I bundle my heavy hair up with a hair tie as I scurry down the landing, coming to a stop when my phone declares the arrival of a text message. Walking slowly down the stairs, my heart drops with each step I take when I see it’s him.
I’ll be at Langan’s Brasserie on Stratton St at 8.
I want my four hours.
My arse hits the step halfway down the stairs, and I stare at the message, reading it over and over. He’s had far more than his four hours already. What point is he trying to make here? He’s holding me to a deal which was made weeks ago, and has since been quashed by feelings and too many encounters to list. He even said himself that it was a stupid deal. It really was a stupid deal. It still is a stupid deal.
His unreasonable demand stirs years of anger until it’s fizzing uncontrollably in my gut. I’ve battled years of self-torture. I’ve beat myself up trying to understand what my mother found that was more important than me and my grandparents. I’ve watched the agony she caused affect my dear nan and gramps, and I’ve tinkered too close to causing more agony myself. I still could, if Nan ever discovered where I really was during my disappearing spell. He’s listened to me spill my heart to him, he drowned me in compassion, and all the while he was the king of debasement? I glance back down at his message. He thinks by reverting back to the clipped, arrogant arsehole he’ll have me falling at his feet again? A red mist falls, blocking the questions I want to ask and the answers I need to find. I can see nothing except resentment, hurt and burning anger. I’m not going to the gym to lash out my hurt on a treadmill or punchbag. Miller can take it all.
