Chapter 14
14
JONAH
It’s been one long night, then one long day of hell.
I tip the last dregs of whisky from the bottle into my tumbler and knock it back, no longer feeling the burn of the alcohol.
What the hell was I thinking? Allowing myself to get tangled up in feelings for another woman when it went so badly the last time I let myself go there.
Fucking idiot.
Inevitably, I seem to be right back where I started after Tessa left, only this time it feels different. Worse.
I really fell for her. Hard.
I’d thought I was in love with Tessa, but this thing with Dee – no, Bea , for fuck’s sake – has shown me that was nothing compared to how I feel now.
Wrecked.
Humiliated.
Sad .
Despite feeling all kinds of anger towards her, I still want her. I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to see her and talk to her. But I know that would be a terrible idea.
I can’t trust her.
I need answers though to calm the swirling thoughts in my head so I can sleep again. And the only other person who can help me with that is the real Dee. Delilah.
Perhaps I should go and confront her about this whole sorry mess, since it sounds like she was just as much to blame for making such a fucking fool out of me.
And I’ll get the satisfaction of telling her that she’s fired to her face.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do.
I won’t go in; I’ll just do it on the doorstep. Cold and clean.
I stand up, my head swimming a little from the effect of all the alcohol I’ve consumed, though I don’t feel drunk any more. I’m suddenly clear headed. Purposeful. Affirmative action will help and I can feel my blood pumping through my veins at the thought of getting some sort of closure here.
I head over to my office in the main house and look up Dee’s address from the CV she gave me and which I never read properly. If I had, would I have been fooled by this crazy sister swap thing they had going?
I scan down it, distracted for a moment as I look for clues. I’m not sure what I’m searching for, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m aware I’m trying to find something to make me feel better about being taken for such a ride.
The CV’s actually a bit of a mess, with a lot of inconsistencies. There’s a strange mix of her having a Business degree but also arts-based work experience and outside interests. Now I look at it, I can pick out the mixture of the two sisters – one using the other’s qualifications to land the job in the first place, I suspect.
Well, that’s probably fraud or something right there. I’m not entirely sure, but it’s definitely dodgy. Dee’s been lying about her suitability for the job. A solid case of gross misconduct, so she’ll not be able to come back at me for unfair dismissal.
I look at the personal details section. There it is. Her address: a flat in Bath. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I book a taxi on the app and go outside to wait for it to turn up, pacing back and forth until it does, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as I count down the minutes till I can confront the perpetrator of my latest humiliation.
The taxi pulls up to a row of Georgian terraced houses and I thank the driver and get out, feeling a bit more sober now.
I’ve spent the whole journey trying and failing to stop myself from playing out what happened with Bea at the lake yesterday over and over in my head and I feel like I’m going nuts with it.
The way she kissed me. It blew my mind.
I wanted it to happen so much and when it did, my body went into overdrive.
There’s a heaviness in my chest now though, weighing me down. A deep, grinding sadness making my head throb.
To go from elation to shocked disbelief was a sucker punch to the gut and I’m still reeling from it.
How could I have not seen it? The total change in attitude and competence should have been a huge red flag, but I was so attracted to the ‘new’ her, I let it blind me.
And how could she have told those lies right to my face? Mostly lies of omission, sure, but they were still dishonest. I remember with a sting of humiliation how she let me tell her all those personal things about myself. Not just about Tessa, but how I felt about my relationship with my dad.
Shit! I can’t believe I told Bea so much about that.
But I thought, at the time, that she cared. Cared about me.
Taking a breath, I walk up to the front door of the town house where Dee’s flat is and look for the panel of buzzers.
I need to stay calm now. Be assertive. Do what needs to be done, get some closure and then go home and start all over again.
The mere thought of that makes my heart sink.
I’d got so excited about the idea of developing the hotel with Bea, but that’s never going to happen now. I can’t be around someone I can’t trust.
Her face flashes into my mind and all the air leaves my lungs, as if someone’s just elbowed me in the ribs.
I get now why Bea stopped me kissing her after we performed together – the memory of that night now takes on a very different significance in my mind – but why did she then kiss me at the lake? And why go to the trouble of going with me to the rival boutique hotel? What did she have to gain from that?
My thoughts are a mess.
The paranoia is back in full force and I jab angrily at the buzzer for her top floor flat.
The thing is, it doesn’t matter now. I don’t care any more.
I’m done with her and her games.
Her and her bloody sister.
The door buzzes and clicks open and I step inside and quickly climb all the stairs to the real Dee’s flat, taking them two at a time. Now I’m here, I just want to get this over with.
It’s right at the top though and I’m out of breath by the time I get there so I take a moment before knocking on the door, waiting for my heart rate to slow so I don’t just pant at her when she opens up.
Steeling myself, I raise my fist and bang three times, feeling the flimsy wood shake under my knuckles.
Then I wait impatiently for her to come to the door, my foot tapping a rhythm on the worn carpet.
I have a sudden moment of panic. What am I actually going to say to her? She already knows she’s fired, I’m sure. Bea must have told her by now. But I need to stay completely professional about this. I can’t give her any reason to come back at me legally.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be doing this after drinking.
But it’s too late; the door is already swinging open.
I stare at the woman standing in front of me. Her eyes are wide with surprise, as if she’s totally floored to see me. She’s clearly not brushed her hair today because it’s sticking up in messy waves around her head. There’s no make-up on her face either and there are dark rings under her eyes, as if she’s not slept.
Her brows knit together and she opens her mouth, then closes it again, seemingly lost for words.
I just stand there and gaze at her. Despite her dishevelled state – or perhaps because of it – she’s never looked more beautiful and the whole of my insides seem to heat with a fiery need that I’ve become accustomed to feeling whenever I’m around her.
Her familiar sweet scent hits my senses and instinctively, I draw it in through my nose, pulling it down deep into my lungs.
‘Hi Bea,’ I say. Because I know without a doubt – without a single ounce of uncertainty – that this isn’t Delilah. There’s something deep down in my bones that tells me that. The chemistry between us is totally different.
I’ve always been aware that Dee’s attractive, but I never felt the way I did when I was around Bea. Something in me just knew they were different people.
I guess I’ve been aware of that in the back of my mind, but I’ve not wanted to fully admit it to myself.
And that my life changed course the day Bea walked into it.
‘Hi,’ she says, in a rough-sounding voice, as if she’s been crying all night.
Has she?
I push away the thump of concern. It shouldn’t matter to me whether she’s upset or not. It’s not my problem.
‘I came to see Delilah,’ I say, keeping my voice as unemotional as I can in the face of this setback.
‘She’s not here. We swapped apartments because of her ankle.’
‘I see.’
We just stare at each other for a moment, the unspoken angst reverberating in the air between us.
‘Do you want to come in?’ she asks.
The hope in her eyes nearly breaks me.
But I can’t let it.
She made a fool out of me and I shouldn’t trust another word she says.
She’s bad news.
Really bad.
But despite all this, I can’t bring myself to leave.
‘Okay,’ I say, and as she backs away from the door, I step into the flat and follow her inside.