5. Marcie
CHAPTER 5
MARCIE
A SHORT WHILE LATER – TIME TO LET GO
A few hours after Anton left, I finally pulled myself out of bed when the door buzzer rang. It was Nick, Derrick’s boyfriend, with all my gifts from the party.
“Hi, Nick. Where’s Derrick?” I asked, giving him air kisses on each cheek.
“Moaning about how everything’s too loud and too bright, while hiding under the covers,” he said with a chuckle. “Thank God I don’t drink—I couldn’t deal with that,” he shuddered dramatically.
“How’s your own hangover?” he asked, holding me at arm’s length and scanning me from top to bottom like an anxious big brother. “You don’t look as bad as I expected,” he added, amusement lacing his voice.
“I look like the bloody walking dead, and you know it,” I grumbled in response, and he laughed.
“Well, at least you enjoyed yourself. And if it’s any consolation, you may look like the walking dead, but Derrick looks like he’s been dead for a week. Smells like it too,” he smirked.
I chuckled. Derrick was always so particular about his appearance and must be feeling pretty awful if he was in that state.
“Do you need anything before I go?” Nick asked. He was such a sweetie, and I was so glad Derrick had found a guy like him.
“No thanks. You’d better get back to your man. I’m sure he’ll be expecting you to comfort him in his hour of need,” I teased.
“Sweetheart, he’s a man. You know we can’t even endure a minor cold without acting like we’re on our deathbed. He’ll be milking this for all it’s worth,” he said with a smirk, but the glint in his eye told me he was more than happy to play nursemaid to his lover.
“Well, you can get him to make it up to you when he’s feeling better,” I replied with a wink.
“Oh, I intend to, sweetheart,” he said, winking back. “Catch you later. Remember, if you need anything, let me know. Enjoy opening your presents, birthday girl.”
I flashed him a smile. “I will, thanks. And thanks again for bringing my gifts over.” With that, he waved and stepped out the door.
Once he was gone, I slumped onto the couch, the remnants of last night’s birthday party still swirling in my head. I glanced at the pile of gifts sitting on the coffee table, their brightly wrapped colours a sharp contrast to my weary mood. The sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow that felt too bright against my hangover. For a moment, I let myself just sit there, absorbing the thoughtfulness behind each gift, feeling unexpectedly blessed to have so many people in my life who cared.
But I wasn’t in the mood to open them. My body ached all over, my head throbbing like the base from one of last night’s party tracks. The thought of tearing open the wrapping paper seemed like an impossible task, too much effort for my exhausted mind and limbs. I sank deeper into the couch, the cushions swallowing me up as I closed my eyes. I told myself I’d open the gifts later, when I could actually take the time to appreciate them. For now, I just needed to rest.
My phone vibrated on the table. Groaning, I cracked an eye open and squinted at the screen. It was Claire.
“Hey,” I answered, rubbing my temples.
“How are you feeling?” Her voice was light, the hint of a smirk clear in her tone.
“Like I’ve been run over by a bus,” I replied, my voice raspy. “I need to go back to bed and sleep for a week until I feel marginally human again. What are you doing up this early? I would have thought you’d be nursing a hangover too,” I grumbled. She sounded far too awake and alive, considering how much she had to drink last night.
Claire chuckled softly, though it sounded strained. “Marcie, it’s early afternoon. And I’ll no doubt be feeling like shit later after the coffee and painkillers wear off. Right now, I’m at court.”
“What? Why? I thought one of your colleagues was going to handle anything that came up for you today?” I asked, my brows furrowing.
Her sigh was deep, resigned. “Not this. Marcie, Luca was arrested last night,” she said, her voice dropping into that professional tone she used when she was holding herself together, but the slight hitch betrayed her. I felt my stomach twist in response, and the room seemed to tilt.
“Arrested? What the hell for? Is he okay? What happened? Did Miki ask you to help?” My words tumbled out in a frantic rush.
“He’s been charged with the rape and murder of one of his ex-girlfriends,” Claire said matter-of-factly. But there was no disguising the unease in her voice.
“No way! Luca would never do anything like that,” I protested, my voice rising in indignation. He wasn’t that sort of man. Luca might be Bratva, and I knew he’d done bad things, but he was a good man despite that. I refused to believe otherwise.
“I know. Miki asked me to help, and well… you know I don’t want to get involved in their Bratva stuff, but this isn’t about that. And the second I heard the charges, I knew they were wrong,” Claire said, her voice steadying as she regained her composure. “So, I agreed. Their lawyer had a heart attack and is still recovering, so I told Miki I would stand in for now. Just until they get a new lawyer or when theirs is up to the task.”
Relief washed over me, my worry easing a bit. Luca would be okay with Claire fighting in his corner. I knew she’d do everything in her power to make sure of that. “God, Luca must be worried sick. All the guys will be. None of them have ever faced anything like this. I’m glad you’re going to help. He’ll be happy you are there for him,” I told her, my voice quieter now as I tried to steady myself.
Claire huffed in response, but there was a softness to it. “Yeah, he is. I think he thought I might have believed him capable of what they’re charging him with. He was worried about that, but I told him straight up—I know he wouldn’t ever do anything like that.” Her words were fierce, and I could sense the loyalty and belief behind them. “Luca, and the Rominovs, might be a lot of things, but they don’t hurt women. They’d rather cut off a limb than do that. So, I’m happy to help however I can. I hated seeing him locked up. He’ll be stuck in a holding cell until court on Monday, but he should get bail then.”
“That’s shit. But at least he’ll be out on Monday, and then he can work on his defence,” I said, trying to focus on the positives, though they felt few and far between.
“Yeah,” Claire said, her voice lowering. “She was found in his flat, but other than that, the lack of evidence is astounding. There are so many holes in the information they’ve given me, it’s like a bloody joke. And not a funny one.” She exhaled sharply, frustration seeping through her words. “Still, it’ll take time to go through everything. Hopefully, we can get it dismissed before it even gets to court. But it’s a real concern for him and the Rominovs. Someone has obviously set him up.”
My stomach churned at the thought of it. “Well, in their line of business, I suppose it’s inevitable they gain an enemy or two. I just hope they get it sorted out soon for Luca’s sake,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, though my thoughts were racing. Who would want to bring down Luca like this? And why?
“Me too.” Claire’s voice softened, a rare vulnerability creeping in. The weight of it settled in the air between us, heavy and palpable. “It’s just… a mess. And I hate seeing him like this.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. Claire might have friend-zoned Luca, but even so, I knew she had deeper feelings for him than she let on. She wasn’t ready to admit them, but this had to be tearing her apart.
“It’s really awful. When you see Luca, tell him I believe in him and I’m rooting for him,” I told her, the sincerity in my voice clear.
“Yeah, he’ll be glad of the support,” she replied, stifling a yawn.
“God, you must be exhausted. Have you been there all night?” I asked, my voice softer now. The thought of Claire, so fierce and driven, pushing through her exhaustion for Luca made my chest tighten. She was strong, but everyone had their breaking point, I couldn’t imagine how she was holding it together after the night she’d had.
“Yeah,” Claire replied, a tired laugh slipping through her words. “But I should be able to get out of here in a few minutes. I’m just waiting for some paperwork. Miki is going to take me home, then I’m going to hide under my covers and feel sorry for myself for the rest of the day.” Her tone was lighter now, but I could still hear the fatigue in her voice. I imagined her slumped in a chair, one hand pressed against her forehead, trying to stay awake just long enough to finish what she had to do before collapsing into the rest she desperately needed.
“Anyway, what happened with you and soldier boy last night? He insisted on taking you home, and I’m assuming he didn’t just drop you off and leave. I have to admit, I was impressed how he carried you off bride-style, not even caring that you’d puked your guts out all over him.” Claire’s teasing tone was back.
“Oh, God, don’t remind me. If that wasn’t bad enough, he had to hold my hair back twice during the night while I threw up, and I’m pretty sure I might’ve decorated his car with my vomit, too.” I cringed, the memory still vivid.
“And? How did he react?” Claire’s voice softened in curiosity.
“He was really good about it all, Claire. Honestly, he was incredibly nice. Stayed with me all night, then brought me toast this morning. I just wish he’d been staying over for another reason. But that’s never going to happen now,” I sighed, unable to keep the wistfulness from my voice.
There was a pause on the other end. I could almost hear Claire’s scowl. “What happened?”
“It’s just so frustrating.” I sank deeper into the couch and lay my head down on the cushion. “One minute, he acts like he’s interested, and the next, he freezes me out. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Marcie, you know what the guys say. Anton has commitment issues. Nobody knows exactly why, but it’s his problem. Have you tried asking him about it?”
“Yes, I finally did this morning,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“And?” she prompted.
“I asked him why he wouldn’t give us a chance, because I know he feels the chemistry between us. And he said, and I quote, ‘Maybe it’s not about you. Maybe it’s about me.’ What the hell does that mean?” I vented, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
“I’ve no idea. Trust Anton to be bloody cryptic instead of just telling you what the hell the problem is,” Claire huffed, clearly seething on my behalf.
“I just wish he could be straightforward for once. If I’m wrong about the chemistry and he’s not attracted to me, then why won’t he just tell me and put me out of my misery?” A knot tightened in my stomach. I felt like I might be sick again.
Claire chuckled softly. “I think we both know straightforward isn’t Anton’s strong suit. And it’s clear he’s not going to discuss whatever this thing is between you two. That’s on him, not you.”
“Am I not good enough?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Quiet and pathetic sounding even to my ears. As a person who’d grown up watching my dad beat my mum and tell her she was worthless, and then later, having him do the same thing to me, it was always something that lingered in my mind. Whenever anything good happened in my life, I wasn’t quite sure I deserved it. I’d fought long and hard since running away from home to build up my self-esteem, yet this thing with Anton plunged me back to that dark, consuming place where doubt and fear ruled my thoughts.
“Marcie, don’t do that to yourself,” Claire’s voice softened, but the firmness in it remained. “Don’t question your worth because some guy can’t admit his feelings. You are a catch, and he should be grateful you even look his way. If he won’t give you a chance, then he’s a bloody fool, and he doesn’t deserve you. I hate to say it, but I think it’s really time you gave up on him. I know it’s hard to hear, but I don’t think you have a choice. Right or wrong, he’s made his position clear. You need to accept that and let him go.”
“I know,” I whispered again, tears threatening as a heaviness settled over me.
“Maybe you should try dating someone else. I mean, that will either make Anton realise his mistake or help you get over him. After all, they say the best way to get over a guy, is to get under another,” she chuckled.
I balked at the suggestion. The knot in my stomach twisted tighter. “I’ll think about it,” I said, not wanting to pursue the notion just yet.
As we wrapped up the call, anxiety and resolve tangled together in my chest. Tears spilled down my face as I admitted that Claire was right. I’d reached the same conclusion myself. This thing with Anton had me questioning my worth, and it had to stop.
Perhaps I would think about dating other men after all. Maybe Claire was right, and that would help exorcise Anton from my mind. Or maybe not. I wasn’t sure I was ready to replace him just yet. But one thing I could no longer deny—whether I liked it or not—it was time to let go. My mind told me that was what had to be done, but how was I going to let go when my heart still desperately wanted to hold on?