Chapter 23
Isigh, but with a small smile on my face, shutting the day behind me as I close the front door and drop my keys on the table in the hall.
It was a small apartment, but it was mine, and every time I came through the door, I felt thankful.
But peace and quiet I expected is interrupted with tiny voices, immediately souring my mood.
“Hello?” I call out.
“In the front room. I’m just in a meeting online. If you can keep out for another half an hour,” Reece calls back. This is the third time this week he’s decided to use my place as his home office, meaning I had to hide away in the kitchen or the bedroom until he was done.
It was fine. Fine.
No big deal.
We were spending more time together, him here rather than offering any time at his place, but his was little more than a basement apartment. However, he was starting to see the space as his and after working so hard to make it so that I could afford to be in my own place, it niggled.
I walk through to make a cup of tea, open the fridge, close it again and then go into the bedroom to change.
Sure enough, half an hour later, he’s done.
“Hey. What’s for dinner then?” He smiles and plants a quick kiss on my head.
“I don’t know. What were you thinking? You’ve been here all day.”
“I’ve been working.”
“So have I,” I retort, annoyed that he’s acting like this.
“Well, what have you got in?”
I stare at him, trying not to react or overreact.
“Fine.” He leaves, and I hear him open the fridge and then the freezer. “Nothing. Better pop to the shops.”
“Is that a question or a statement that you’re going to do it?” I clarify, giving him a pointed look.
“Oh, I will. I will.” He looks a little embarrassed and hustles back out of the room. I shake my head and flop down on the bed.
Reece was nice. Kind. Easy.
But I didn’t love him.
I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to open my heart up to anyone else.
In my darker moments, that terrifies me. People talk about soul mates, fated love, and never getting over your first love. I used to think that might be true. Only now, even years later, I have to admit that a part of my heart still loves Jeremy.
Even after all this time. Even after everything.
Is it true that we only have one true love? That question bothers me, maybe because he was my first, but it seems more than that. Logically, I’d have an affection and fondness for the boy who stole my heart for the first time. But what I still feel for Jeremy seems unfinished — dormant.
Even all the hours of counselling and effort I put into learning and telling myself I wasn’t in love with him didn’t quite work.
Perhaps I’m only feeling like this because it’s the start of summer, and this time of year always makes me anxious. Time is a healer for so many things, but it can’t erase the memories that I still carry. Some of them are heavier than others, dragging my spirit down on occasion and twisting everything to grey.
After rehab, I had a few bumpy months, but I’ve been clean and sober for three years.
I’ve not seen Jeremy since that day at the cottage.
And I know I don’t want to go back to anything that would jeopardise the place I’m in now, even with its bad days.
I’ve worked hard. I’m content. I should be happy.
Although I’m happy, true happiness is a bigger step than I can make at the moment.
Reece returns with a couple of frozen pizzas and a cheap bottle of wine. I’ve not touched a drop since we’ve been together, and he knows I don’t drink. But he chooses to forget that on a semi-regular basis.
He doesn’t know the reason why — we’re certainly not at that point in our relationship that I’m comfortable sharing that I used to be an addict.
“Glass?” he offers, popping his head out of the kitchen at me.
I shake my head, and I watch as he remembers that I don’t drink. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll remember. I promise. I can get rid of it?” He pulls a funny grimace, and I know he doesn’t want to offer that solution.
“Why don’t you have your drink in the kitchen while dinner’s cooking.”
“Great. Juice?”
“Thank you.”
We eat with the TV on in the background and then put crime drama on for the rest of the evening. He stays maybe a couple of times a week, and it’s the same routine most weeks. We’ve only been together for six months, but we’ve already hit the ‘too comfortable’ phase, in my opinion. I just don’t know how to tell him. I’m not even sure there was anything exciting between us at the beginning.
He certainly hasn’t made my heart stutter with anticipation or exhilaration.
But he’s nice. And kind. And it’s easy.
With summer on the horizon, I make sure I’m busy to keep my mind and body occupied.
One of the saddest parts of my past is that I can’t face staying in the same place in Cornwall with my mum anymore. For both of us, the last time ruined everything that was special about it and destroyed the salvation and refuge it once offered to Mum.
The guilt that it was my actions to do that is crippling when I dwell on it and only makes me want to sink back into oblivion.
Luckily, Mum has been the rock I’ve needed and seems to take everything in her stride. When we talked about not going back, she agreed because it was also painful for her. However, she didn’t want to stop the tradition of going away, so she researched and booked another cottage. It’s on the other coast, so there’s no temptation to visit old haunts, although we make a point of visiting Molly’s Diner. Some things will always hold good memories. But it’s a new chapter for us. And we’re leaving in a week.
The relationship we have now is the most important one in my life, and I never want to put her in the positions I did again.
Our trip comes just as I need it. The weather is beautiful, with vibrant blue skies every day. We explore the walking paths and find some hidden coves that could easily be on the continent rather than here in England.
Mum signed up to a new gallery that was excited to take her pieces, so it was prosperous as well as relaxing.
Until it was time to go home.
We called into Molly’s to have our usual breakfast and then got on the road, just to sit in a traffic jam for hours on end. It took forever and zapped all the good vibes I’d built up from the week away.
We do our best to keep ourselves entertained, but three hours in, with more than the same to go, we’re both grumpy.
By the time I get home, it’s the evening, and I’m ready to ignore the unpacking, jump in the shower, and climb into bed for an early night. I’ve missed having my own space. Even with Mum, you make small concessions when you share a space, and I’m too selfish to do that all the time — I have to be.
Pulling my bags through the doorway, I kick the door shut behind me and take a relieved sigh.
“Oh, welcome home.” Reece comes running out into the hall.
“Err, thanks. What are you doing here?” I drop my backpack and holdall to the floor.
“Well, I’ve been kinda waiting for you.” He slinks back through into the front room, and I follow, to be presented with my front room taken over with game consoles, bags of crisps, and old pizza boxes. Reece has gone straight back onto whatever game he was playing, waving his hands and the controller towards the screen with a headset on.
No.
Absolutely not.
I go through to the bedroom, but that’s in a mess, too. The bed’s been slept in, and the covers are all over the place. “Reece!” I shout.
He doesn’t answer right away, which only stokes my anger. “Reece!” I repeat, my temper already worn from the long drive. And now this?
“I’m kinda in the middle of something,” he shouts.
“Oh, what happened to waiting for me?” I go back through and see he’s still on his game. “When did all of this happen?” I stand in front of the TV and shove my hands on my hips to stop them from wringing his neck.
He has the nerve to look pissed off, but he pauses the game. “I’ve always been a gamer. Your being away was a good opportunity for me to see the set-up at yours. You know. Get used to it here.”
“Without asking me? In my home? No. Out. I want it all gone.”
“Anna, it’s fine. It doesn’t?—”
“No. This is my space. Not yours.” I knit my arms together across my chest and wait for an apology, a look of concern, anything. I’ve put in the work to have this little space as mine, and it’s a reminder of how hard I’ve worked for the life I have now. So, I’m not going to let someone come in here and taint it like this without my permission or even a conversation first.
He looks taken aback and still a little pissed off at my outburst. Not the reaction I was hoping for.
“I’m going to go and take a shower because it’s been a shitty journey. I expect the bed to be remade while I do it. Then, you can sort this mess out.”
“You’re not being very?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence. You had no right to come in while I was away and move in. None.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him not to bother coming back, but I take a breath.
“And don’t say you were waiting for me to come home because that’s bullshit.”
The relaxing shower wasn’t what I’d hoped, but it did allow my nerves to settle and my anger to ebb away. It also gave me time to think of what the next step was with Reece.
Him being nice isn’t enough, and being kind is something I’m reassessing, given this little stunt. So, why am I with him?
A vision of Jeremy stares back at me in my mind: his brilliant blue eyes that mirror the sea, the smile he shared with only me.
I shove the temperature control onto cold to shock myself out of those thoughts.
I have no place thinking about him unless it’s a reminder of how bad things got.
But it does prove that I don’t have the feelings for Reece that I might want one day, and hoping they will come may not be the best decision.
When I step out of the bathroom, the bedroom is put back together, and I get to slip between the sheets of the freshly made bed. It soothes me, and I snuggle down and pick up the book from my bedside table.
But my eyes start to drop, and the words on the page blur together.
When I wake up, the apartment is quiet, but it’s still early.
I check the front room, and Reece has moved all his stuff and tidied up.
Everything’s back to normal.
Bliss.
Monday mornings used to be a drain, but I enjoy getting up and going to work — probably because there was a time when I never thought I’d be able to do anything like that.
There might be hard days, but I try to be grateful for everything I can, and that includes work.
What I do now might not be what I once imagined when studying for my A Levels, but it’s something I’m proud of. Going to university and being away from Mum wasn’t something I could consider after coming out of rehab. I wasn’t strong enough yet.
Being healthy was the focus, so I looked for a job to keep me busy and support myself. And that’s grown and afforded me the opportunity to rebuild my life and find my independence. Answering calls in the sales room was about all I could do at the beginning. Now, I run the sales team of the same company I started with.
The morning goes by quickly, and because of the mess that was last night, I pop out for lunch — not something I indulge in often.
My semi-regular coffee shop down the high street has a great selection of pastries and fresh lunches, and the coffee’s good, too.
I round the corner, hope there’s not a queue out the door, and smile that there’s no line.
But my smile is wiped from my face as I see who’s leaving the shop.
I stutter to a stop as I drink him in.
Everything about him is the same, and the vision of him spears me through my heart.