16. April
Chapter 16
April
I buzz Gemma’s flat and impatiently wait for her to let me in. With my hands occupied fluffing my hair, I bounce slightly to keep warm, surprisingly cheerful to be here. After weeks spent wallowing in my sorrows, a fun girls’ night out seems the perfect thing to distract me from the current shitstorm that is my personal life.
A buzz sounds before Gemma’s voice spills through the intercom.
“The hot girl evening has officially commenced. I made margaritas!”
I swear that woman is a walking cocktail.
I chuckle under my breath and step inside. Anna flings the door of Gemma’s flat open, and her eyes slide over me from head to toe, a low, appreciative whistle escaping her lips.
“Bloody hell. You ought to be careful tonight,” she says.
“What? Why?” I ask, looking down to inspect my outfit.
“I’m a straight married woman, and even I’m tempted to shag you.”
I’m drawn instantly to her stunning rose gold wedding ring adorning her finger. The pear shaped diamond sparkles under the hallway lights, and a fleeting pang of envy washes over me, serving as a blunt reminder of what I lost. I dismiss the thought before it drenches me with misery.
I give her a playful twirl, showcasing my new Sophia Webster winged butterfly shoes and leather miniskirt, which I’ve paired with a baby pink cropped silk shirt, fully embracing the Taylor Swift “Lover” aesthetic. My straightened hair flows down, reaching my waist. To complete the look, I’ve added thick gold hoop earrings and cherry-red lips.
I must admit, retail therapy has become a favourite pastime since the break-up. The loud colours and luxurious fabrics I’ve added to my wardrobe have brought a semblance of joy and happiness back into my home. I love running my fingers over the soft material because I find that, when everything else feels sad and gloomy, my clothes brighten my day.
“Knowing my abysmal luck with the male species, I might just take you up on that offer,” I joke, sharing a laugh with Anna. Inside, music fills the kitchen and Gemma stands, armed with margaritas.
“This is 98 percent alcohol,” she states, passing me a glass.
My brows pinch. “What’s the other 2 percent?”
“Lime.”
“At least it’s fruit,” Anna replies, shrugging while she accepts her own glass and takes a healthy swig.
Gemma studies me for a moment, and I give her an insecure look. “What?”
“You look like you stepped out of a YouTube channel made for toddlers.”
Anna chokes on her margarita, pounding her fist against her chest to stifle the coughing.
I look down to inspect my outfit, unable to keep from laughing. “Uh, rude! I figured if I dress in happy colours, it will make me feel happy.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love the bright colours. They’re much more your style, but I got so used to seeing you in black. I’m just surprised, that’s all. It’s like the first time you see your favourite Disney child actor all grown up at thirty,” Gemma says with a chuckle.
Anna chimes in, “She was in mourning, Gemma.”
“I wore black way before I found out my fiancé was an online predator,” I reply.
Anna nods. “That was your subconscious speaking. It knew he was a shady subspecies.”
I shake my head and bring the drink to my lips, delighting in the tangy flavours as they dance across my tongue. Lowering my drink, I check out my best friends in appreciation.
Anna is stunning in a tight, short-sleeved, black midi dress with nude heels, and Gemma is confidently rocking her signature ensemble: a sleek black leather skirt paired with a black see-through top, her maroon lacy bodysuit on display underneath.
It dawns on me that this is the first time in months I’ve gone out for drinks with my girlfriends without Lucas by my side. And now, I’m single. I’ve never been one to relish attention from men, or anyone, for that matter. In the past, I never had to worry about it because I always had an arm draped over my shoulders and a ring on my finger. But now, it’s not just the absence of that anchor that hits me; it’s the awareness that I’ve never really experienced being single. I met Lucas less than a year after breaking up with my ex, who I had been with since I was twenty-one. I wasn’t really interested in partying during that time, let alone entertaining the idea of a one-night stand because the wounds from losing my parents were still healing. I was low for a long time.
I take a long pull from my glass, hoping the alcohol will provide the courage I don’t possess.
“You good?” Gemma checks in.
I exhale deeply. “Yeah, just a little nervous. I’ve never really gone out as a single woman before.”
Gemma smirks and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “You’re gonna love it.”
Anna joins in. “Tonight is all about us. Girl time. There’s no pressure to do anything except have a few drinks, a bit of a dance, and let go. You need and deserve this. Tonight isn’t attached to any expectations … and if Gemma does happen to leave with someone, well, I’ll be next to you, cheering her on.”
“This is why you’re my best friends,” Gemma says, clinking her glass with ours.
“That was oddly insightful, thanks,” I say, surprised.
“Plus, I hear the live music on Saturday nights is amazing,” Anna says.
For the next hour, we continue to blend and enjoy fresh margaritas, sing along to the music, and chat about our days before leaving for the bar.
Mayfair gleams under the city lights, pulsating with energy. Saturday nights out on the town have always been my favourite. The atmosphere is electric as the city comes to life. This is truly living.
I love nothing more than dressing up and indulging in beautiful food and delicious drinks. I can’t imagine ever leaving London; I’m in love with this place.
The Uber stops outside the Mayfair Lounge, and we tumble out of the car as elegantly as we can in our tight skirts. Given our scant clothing, high heels, and alcohol, the tube wasn’t an option this evening.
The streets bustle with people dressed up for all occasions, and music and voices fill the cool air.
The Mayfair Lounge is situated in a tall, three-storey building on Regent Street. The ground floor features the main club, the second floor is exclusively for VIP members, and the third level, with its own entrance, hosts an exclusive sex club. Although I haven’t experienced the atmosphere of the sex club first hand, I’ve heard it’s luxurious and sensual. My confidence in this information stems from my trusted source, Gemma.
The last time I was here was to celebrate Lucas’s thirty-third birthday with our closest friends. I’m amazed at how much can change in the span of twelve months. In an effort to avoid those thoughts dampening my mood, I push them aside and concentrate on having a fun evening out with my two best friends.
I link arms with Anna as we step inside. Despite the bar’s spaciousness, it’s teeming with people dancing, toasting with clinking glasses, mingling in the booths, and ordering drinks at the bar. Exposed beams span the length of the ceiling, and the cocktail bar extends across the entire back wall. Shelves, illuminated by vibrant LED lights, are filled with every imaginable spirit, lining the wall from top to bottom. Professional bartenders are busy shaking, mixing, and pouring drinks while patrons bark out orders. Black leather booths stretch along the right side of the club, while a dance floor sits beside the stage on the left, where live bands perform every Saturday.
We push through the throng of people to the bar. As I survey my surroundings, I wonder which band will take the stage tonight. I love live music—the pulsating beat of the bass and drums echoes through my body, sparking it to life.
As we reach the front of the bar, Gemma waves down a bartender and orders a round of tequila shots. We each sprinkle a line of salt on the back of our hands before licking it off, then downing the shot and chasing it with a wedge of lime.
“Another!” Anna exclaims, slamming her empty shot glass on the bar like a Viking.
“If I want to walk out of here tonight, I think it’s best we don’t go balls-to-the-wall on tequila,” I say.
“I’ll be pissed as a fart,” Gemma agrees.
“You need to work on your fitness,” Anna retorts.
“What does my fitness have to do with drinking?” I ask.
“Not exercise fitness, you tit. I mean, being piss-fit. A woman who can hold her alcohol,” Anna says, turning towards the bartender. “Fine, three espresso martinis, please.”
“Oh God,” Gemma says.
Anna waves her hand dismissively. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”
The bartender gets to work shaking up our cocktails. We each take a glass and head to the booths, scooting in. Just as we settle, the music cuts, and we look over to the stage in anticipation of who will be playing tonight. Bright lights illuminate the performing area, and cheers ring through the room as the band makes their way out. The dance floor is packed tonight, forcing us to bob our heads to catch a glimpse.
“Oh, shit,” Gemma says, turning to me with a concerned look.
“What?” I ask.
Then I see what she’s talking about.
A tall man occupies the front, adjusting the height of the microphone. He runs his hand through his long, black hair and wets his lips before his gravelly voice filters through the room.
“How are we all doing tonight?” he asks.
I immediately recognise him.
His muscular arms are inked with tattoos, covering his golden skin. His nails are painted black, and he wears two large silver rings on his index and middle fingers. A charcoal T-shirt reading “Comfortably uncomfortable” stretches across his broad chest.
Anna winces, looking at me. “Is that?—”
“Tom.”
“Then where’s …” Anna’s voice trails off as three other men step onto the stage. My attention focuses on a tall, blond man in a leather jacket, who is casually slinging a guitar strap over his shoulder and retrieving a pick from his front pocket. I take him in as he tunes his guitar. I watch his biceps flex, how the bright lights accentuate his high cheekbones and sharp jaw, dusted in stubble. He’s wearing dark jeans and his usual black combat boots. Jesus Christ, he looks good . His large hands grasp the neck of the guitar as he begins picking the strings.
“James,” I whisper before taking a large pull from my cocktail. At that moment, as if he heard me, James lifts his eyes, immediately finding me, and pauses his movements. I freeze. His brows furrow before he quickly looks away, dragging a hand over his stubble.
“Are you okay?” Gemma questions, placing her hand over mine.
“Yeah … Yeah, I’m fine.” I wave her off, feigning indifference.
Fine. A simple but damaging word. The use of which completely contradicts its meaning.
But inside, my heart catapults into my throat. Why didn’t he wave?
Why did he look away so quickly?
I’m trying to compose myself, I rub my forehead and down the rest of my cocktail. I feel panicky seeing him here after months of no contact. The thought of running into him didn’t even cross my mind. Well, that’s not entirely true—I still think about James.
It’s hard not to.
But I didn’t expect to run into him tonight.
“We’re Atlas Veil! I’m Tom, holding down the bass we’ve got James, my man Oliver’s tearing it up on the drums, and Will’s shredding on guitar! Hopefully you’ll recognise some of these songs.”
The room is alive with excitement as the first few chords float through the air, and my head snaps in James’s direction. I watch as he immerses himself in the song, his fingers gliding over the strings, eyes closed, tapping his foot to the beat.
“We can go if you aren’t comfortable,” Anna says.
“It’s okay, really. Plus, I love this song.” I smile, and it seems to put them at ease.
We settle into light-hearted conversation as the band plays their set and Gemma fetches another round of espresso martinis. Anna was right; she is loving them.
As the evening progresses, I forget the brooding man on-stage and focus on my girls. After our second martini, we switch to water and head to the dance floor.
I smile and throw my hands in the air, singing along to the music as a soft sheen of sweat coats my body. Without thought, I glance towards the stage and instantly lock eyes with James. He almost looks … angry?
I snap out of my trance as two hands land on my hips, and a firm chest presses against my back. I whirl around and find myself face-to-face with a tall, dark, and handsome stranger, whose friend seems quite taken with Gemma. Glancing to my left, I catch Anna waving her ring finger in another guy’s face. Poor bloke, he doesn’t stand a chance.
Leaning in, the stranger says, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you ladies looked like you were having so much fun, we had to join in.”
I swivel my head to find James still staring at me, his nostrils flared and jaw tense, still not missing a single note as he watches this exchange. Looking back at the stranger, I shout over the loud music, “We’re having a girls’ night.”
He raises his eyebrows and says, “Your mate over there looks rather happy making a new friend.” I flick my gaze to assess Gemma and his friend. He’s right; she’s already dancing, giggling, and batting her lashes at her new companion.
“Yes, well, Gemma’s single,” I clip.
“And you are not?”
I’m not prepared for this. I can’t flirt or make small talk. Honestly, I’m terrible at it. Before Lucas, the last man who attempted to flirt with me was mortified when my “small talk” included asking for his star sign and deepest mother wound.
Surface-level conversations are boring. Knowing someone’s job or where they went to university doesn’t define who they are. It doesn’t reveal why they think the way they do, or what genuinely makes them happy.
I crave deeper connections and conversations that uncover what drives a person, their passions, fears, and the moments that shaped them. I want to understand what brings them joy and what keeps them up at night.
At least with Lucas, our introduction was organic. There was a build-up of angst and anticipation before he asked me out on our first date. Perhaps his being an academic and poet made it seem easier; they generally explore deeper meanings instead of the usual “ How are you? ” and “ What do you do for work? ” Then again, all Lucas wanted to explore was other women’s bodies.
I press my lips into a line as he regards me patiently, waiting.
“I am.” I nod, and he smirks, like the cat who got the cream.
“I’m George,” he replies, extending his hand. I take it for a shake.
“April.”
“It’s a bit crowded here, don’t you think? Can I get you a drink?”
I’d rather shit in my hands and clap, thanks, George.
I look down at my empty glass and sigh in defeat as Anna sidles up to me, leaning into my ear. “Gemma’s made a new friend,” she says. George smiles and turns to shuffle to the bar, Anna and I in tow.
I can’t help but chance another look at James, only to find him still watching me.
I’m so confused. Why is he staring?
George interrupts my thoughts, handing me a vodka, lime, and soda. I don’t want to make a spectacle, so I accept the drink.
“Thanks,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
Lifting the glass to my lips, I take a tentative sip. The mixture of bubbles and lime coats my mouth, cooling me down. I exhale. “Look, I appreciate the drink, but I’ve just got out of a long-term relationship, and I’m really not looking for anything. I just came here tonight to have a good time with my friends.”
“That’s perfectly fine, April. I only wanted to buy a beautiful woman a drink. There are no expectations attached to the vodka soda,” he says with a warm smile, and I’m taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. Perhaps he’s not as boring as I thought he might be.
“So, April, what do you do for work?” he asks.
Oh God. Kill me now.
After George realised he wasn’t getting anywhere with me and his mate didn’t have a chance with Anna, they left. The band has finished their set, and a DJ has taken over. I scan the room, unable to spot James. He must have left. Gemma is happily dancing with her new friend, so Anna and I have left her to take a seat in a booth. Anna is filling me in on her latest work drama while we sip mojitos. I’ve almost had enough alcohol to make texting Lucas seem like a great idea, but I also know I’ll regret it tomorrow morning, so I push the impulse aside and try to focus on listening to Anna.
“Honestly, she’s so difficult to work with. She challenges every suggestion Daniel and I make. It makes planning the rest of term so difficult,” Anna vents.
Anna is a primary school teacher who works tirelessly. She’s incredibly devoted to her students and loves what she does; they are the luckiest kids to have her as their teacher. Anna has a heart of gold.
I continue to listen and provide as much support and advice as I can before her eyes suddenly bulge. I follow her line of sight to where it lands on Lucas.
At the bar.
With a woman.
My stomach does a nauseating flip, and I work harder for air.
“Shit. April, are you okay?” she asks, her face etched with concern as she lowers her voice.
I sit frozen in shock, my mind a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts. Like someone tipped over a Scrabble board, scattering the pieces, and I can’t seem to find my words.
My attention is immediately captured by the woman beside him. Her dainty, pink-tipped fingers rest on his forearm as he leans in to whisper something. A coy smile graces her lips as she looks down, bashful. She’s wearing a short, flowing sage-green dress, accentuating her ample cleavage and showcasing her tan, toned legs. Dark, curly locks fall just below her shoulders, highlighting her petite frame. She’s undeniably stunning.
I don’t recognise her from any of his Instagram messages, so I figure she must be new, and the knowledge that he’s putting himself out there, already dating and exploring new women, sends an awful chill through me.
As I observe them, a pang of insecurity creeps in. I can’t help but compare myself. I feel inadequate with my pale complexion, tall stature, smaller chest and curves. It’s totally irrational, but I can’t help but notice that she embodies everything I am not. She is beautiful in ways that I can’t seem to match.
The questions pour through my mind, quick and fast.
Is that what he wanted?
Am I not pretty enough?
Am I too tall?
Was he not attracted to me anymore?
“April?” Anna questions, bringing her hand to rest atop mine.
“Sorry, I’m just … surprised,” I respond, my voice tinged with disbelief. “I just … He’s on a date.” I look at Anna with watery eyes. “I didn’t … I didn’t think he would move on so quickly.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “She’s so beautiful,” I whisper.
“He’s a moron. I know it’s tough to see beyond the hurt, but he won’t find happiness in what he’s doing. He won’t find it anywhere until he addresses his own issues. This happened because he was unwilling to confront his problems. All these women he’s finding are just feeding him the validation he craves until he moves on to the next. He’ll likely repeat the same pattern with her and the next woman after that unless he sorts himself out. So don’t feel jealous of her and don’t feel sad. Feel sorry for both of them. He has to carry that heavy burden around with him forever. Can you imagine how unhappy he must be?”
This is why she makes such a wonderful teacher. As hilarious and fun as she is, she also has a knack for seeing things logically when it’s hard to do so yourself.
I know she’s right, but it’s hard not to wonder if there’s something wrong with me.
“You have to stop holding on to who he pretended to be, April.” She gives my hand a squeeze, and I return a small smile.
“I really loved him.”
“I know you did, hon.” She takes a sip of her drink before squaring her shoulders. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but now that you aren’t together and I’ve seen him, I’m furious. I feel like it needs to be said.”
“What?” I brace myself, preparing for the worst.
“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” she starts.
“Oh, for God’s sake, just spit it out already.”
“Lucas is a fug.”
I blink. “Sorry,” as I shake my head, trying to understand.
“What?”
“I said he’s a fug. A fuggo. Fugly. He’s fucking ugly?—”
I raise my hand to stop her. “No, I got that part. I mean, why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“It was too late by the time he wooed you with his ‘amazing personality.’” She air-quotes amazing personality .
“What do you mean? He is handsome, and he’s so charming!” I say.
“Please,” Anna scoffs. “I’ve met urinal cakes with better personalities and more charm than that man. Lucky for James, he got all the looks in that family.”
I sit frozen, stunned.
“I hope that makes you feel better,” she finishes, shooting me an empathetic smile.
“Actually, I think that just made it worse.” I release her hand and bring my drink to my lips.
“Fine,” she says. “But I’m just being honest. For the record, you’re absolutely gorgeous and way too good for him. I think he was batting well above his average with you, and it inflated his already giant, ugly head. He’ll get a rude awakening when he realises what he fumbled. Just you wait,” she says, lifting her glass to knock it against mine in cheers.
As I lower my glass, Lucas sees me. It feels as though time slows to a crawl as my heartbeat pounds behind my ribcage. I feel my chest flush with nervousness, and my hands begin to shake. I suck in a breath and allow myself three more seconds to look before turning away.
“I think I’d like to go home now,” I say to Anna, shifting to peek at Lucas once again, who has returned to his date, acting as though he never saw me.
How is it that you can get to know someone so intimately, and then act as if they never existed? To behave as though the person you once cared for so deeply no longer matters, as if you want nothing to do with them? It leaves a hole in my heart that begs to be filled.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Anna agrees, rising from her seat. “Wait here, I’ll just make sure Gemma is okay.”
I nod and wait for her to return, and when she does, it’s with a sly grin. “She’s going home with him. She’s turned on her location so I can check in,” she states, waggling her eyebrows. I manage a smile in return. The music fades as we step outside.
The evening air has cooled slightly as we wait at the kerb. I retrieve my phone from my handbag and open the Uber app.
“Do you want to come back to mine? You’re welcome to stay,” Anna offers, her tone sympathetic.
Before I can respond, a gruff voice interrupts.
“I’ll take her home,” James says, catching us both off guard. I turn to look at him, finding his eyes already trained on me.
“Hey, James,” I say softly.
“Hey, April,” he replies, his voice tinged with concern.
A car pulls up to the kerb.
We all stand in uncomfortable silence before Anna finally speaks up. “Okay. Well, this is me. Are you sure? April, you good?” she double-checks.
I look to James, “What about your stuff? Don’t you need your guitar?”
He shrugs, “Oliver can take it home for me.” His gaze is as penetrating as it is devastating.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He grunts.
Surprised by his offer, I swing to look at Anna and stammer, “Y-yeah. You go ahead.”
“Okay, I’ll come by tomorrow,” Anna replies before leaning in to kiss my cheek, shooting James a wary glance, and then hopping into her Uber.
As the car pulls away, I turn to James.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
“I want to.”
“Why?”
“I saw what happened in there, and you looked …” He trails off, and I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. He runs a hand through his hair. “You looked upset.”
This isn’t the place to discuss this topic, so I swiftly change the subject. “I couldn’t find you after your set.”
Now it’s his turn to raise an eyebrow. “You keeping tabs on me, April?”
“No … I just?—”
“I’m kidding.”
“Oh.”
“I saw my brother.”
I nod, saying nothing. The mere mention of Lucas sends my heart plummeting and my stomach churns. I don’t utter a word as I resume booking the Uber on my phone. James interrupts by reaching out, his hand gently covering mine.
“Let me get the Uber.”
“Okay,” I reply quietly, stealing a glance at him while he’s occupied with his phone. I take in his presence, realising just how different he is from his brother.
“You were really good out there tonight,” I say, offering a small smile.
“Thanks,” he replies, a faint twitch at the corner of his lip.
We lapse into silence once more before James hesitantly says, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I cast a brief look at him, feeling the pressure of tears welling up behind my eyes. I turn my head away, refusing to meet his sympathetic gaze. I know that if I say anything, I’ll break.
Luckily, the Uber pulls up to the kerb a moment later.