Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
B y the time Monday morning came again I was thoroughly exhausted. Between working on the school garden by day and being ravished by Alfie at night, my body was worn out.
As usual, I watched him dress, then he watched me dress, and he drove me to work.
We’d managed to avoid being seen so far.
Mark was still off work and Rosie was in her own world as ever.
At lunch, Keira called to ask if I could help her finish decorating and I agreed to come over that night.
I’d been in Alfie’s dick sand (as Keira put it) all week, so coming up for air would be good for me.
It was hard to remember that he was temporary, but it was a good excuse to ignore those red flags that were still waving at me. Why worry about the behaviour of a man who would be gone soon?
I sent Alfie a text telling him I wouldn’t be seeing him tonight. Taking the night off wouldn’t be a bad thing. I knew he was missing a lot of work to spend time with me.
The end of the day rolled around and as I hopped up into my van my phone started ringing. As always, my heart fluttered when I saw Alfie’s name on the screen. I answered immediately.
“I’m sending Elliot to collect you from your house. He’ll be there soon.”
“Hello to you too.” I rolled my eyes. This was becoming a habit. “I’m going to Keira’s tonight, Alfie. Didn’t you get my text?”
“Yes, I got it. I want you to cancel.” There wasn’t a hint of a joke in his voice.
“No.”
“You’re being difficult.”
“And you, on the other hand, are being the epitome of rational and reasonable.” I huffed out a breath as my van sputtered back to life. This was Saturday at the school garden all over again. “I’ve told you before, I don’t take orders.”
“You don’t want to see me?” he said, as if such a thing wasn’t possible. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I’ve seen you nearly every night this week, Alfie.
Tonight, I made plans with my friend. I don’t want to cancel.
If you want to see me, you can call me and ask.
I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up, not waiting for a response.
I guess controlling Alfie had only been gone this week because he’d been getting everything he wanted—me in his bed every night.
This very real side of him was why I needed to remind myself to be careful. To not get attached.
“This feels like a really bad idea.” I was standing at the bottom of a ladder in paint-splattered dungaree shorts and a white cut off t-shirt, holding a glass of wine in one hand and a tub of gloss paint in the other.
“You’ll be fine, we’re nearly finished,” Keira urged, nudging me towards the rickety ladder while she held the bottom steady.
“If you’re so certain I’ll be fine then why don’t you go up the ladder and I’ll hold it steady?”
“Because I’m afraid of heights, you know that.”
“It’s four feet in the air!”
“I get vertigo! Besides, if it’s only four feet in the air then you won’t have far to fall, now will you?
” She arched an eyebrow and jutted her hip.
I couldn’t argue with her logic so I shrugged and took another sip of nerve wine.
I was starting to think maybe drunk decorating wasn’t the best idea Keira had ever had.
I put my foot on the first step of the ladder and stumbled as the bloody thing snapped under my foot.
I looked down at the remnants of rotten wood, then back up at my friend. “Oops. How long did you say you’d had this ladder?”
“I don’t know, I found it at the back of my dad’s shed. Go on, the other steps look alright.” I didn’t know when she’d suddenly become an expert in ladders, but she took a sip from her glass with such confidence that I believed her.
I raised my foot, aiming for the second rung this time, and found it much more sturdy. After successfully climbing the rest of the ladder, I put my tub down on the top and jimmied the lid off.
“Paint brush.” I held out my hand, she looked at me confused. “Where’s the brush, Keira?”
“Hmmm.” She looked around herself, as if it might suddenly appear.
“Kitchen I think, hang on.” She trotted out of the room with her wine glass in hand, slipping slightly on the dust sheet with a giggled “Whoops!” She returned a moment later with a tiny paint brush, but as I reached for it, my weight shifted backwards, the ladder lost its stance, and suddenly everything was falling.
I hit the floor with a bang. Keira screamed, immediately scooping up the open tub of gloss paint before it started destroying the hard wood floor. She was hopping around swearing like a sailor and I burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny! Look at the state of the floor!”
I laughed harder, nearly hysterical now. My hip hurt where I’d landed, but I wasn’t injured, or maybe the alcohol had numbed me too much to notice. Keira’s stern face creased and she started to giggle too, which turned into hysterical can’t-breathe laughter.
I was light headed and a little dizzy but I reached for her wine glass and took a sip. Mine had bit it on the floor and was laying in shards.
“Is that your phone or mine?” she gasped around her laughter. I stopped and heard a phone buzzing. It was mine. I stumbled into a standing position, still gasping for breath, and answered the phone.
“Bonjour! Lola and Keira’s professional décor service, how may I help you?” Keira cackled on the floor, grabbing her side.
“O’Connell.”
“Mr Tell,” I replied politely and Keira’s eyebrows shot up.
“I need to see you.”
“Sorry, Mr Moneybags. I already told you I...oh damn...Keira, I’m standing in the paint tray!” I looked down and found my left foot was completely immersed in magnolia paint. Keira laughed harder than ever, tears pouring down her flushed face.
“Are you drunk?” he asked in a tone that would have made a sober me shut up immediately. Unfortunately, the nerve wine was doing the talking for me.
“What? No...or yes, a little.” There was a long pause.
“Just so you know, I won’t enjoy doing this.” He hung up and I stared at my phone. Won’t enjoy doing what? My wine-fuddled brain couldn’t figure it out. I looked at my friend, who had managed to stand up. Paint was smeared across the floor and the ladder lay in pieces.
“I think you need a new ladder,” I told her and we erupted into laughter again.
Half an hour later, we were sitting in the mess. Having given up on trying to get anything done, we’d polished off the bottle and were halfway through a second one. There was no denying it now; we were drunk.
My head was beginning to spin so I slumped onto the floor, the dust sheet barely cushioning my back. Keira lay next to me and slipped her hand into mine, her touch comforting and familiar.
“Will you miss your house?” I knew she was upset at having to sell her childhood home while her parents lived it up in Greece. She shrugged but I saw past it and leaned over, planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Thanks, Lo. I’ll miss it but honestly, I think I have more childhood memories in your house than mine.”
“You wanna move in with me? Sleepover style?”
Keira snorted. “I don’t think I’m compatible with living with an eight year old. Just promise you won’t sell your house and I’ll still feel like I have roots somewhere.”
I squeezed her hand. “Promise.”
We shrieked in unison as our tender moment was rudely interrupted by a loud banging.
“The fuck is that?” she grumbled, pulling herself to a sitting position. The banging came again. “Alright, alright!” she shouted as she stumbled out of the room and down the hallway. “I’m coming!”
I heard her open the door and a moment later, I heard his voice.
“Excuse me, Miss Larson.”
My stomach tightened. I knew that voice. Loud footsteps strode down the hall as I groaned and threw an arm over my face.
I let my arm drop and looked up to see a furious Alfie standing over me.
“Mr Tell, what on earth brings you here?”
“You’re wasted.” He sounded disgusted and I pulled myself up into a sitting position.
“Nope, just a little tipsy. So, what do you think?” I waved a clumsy hand around the room. “I think I’ve missed my calling.”
“It looks like you’ve trashed the place. What happened here?”
“That was all her fault.” Keira pointed at me, wobbled, then leaned against the wall for support.
“She fell off the ladder.” She pointed at the broken ladder lying a few feet from me and he followed her gaze.
I watched his jaw set, clenching and unclenching.
I suddenly felt very sober. He turned his gaze on me and I wilted under the fury of it.
“We’re leaving.” He bent and hoisted me over his shoulder, caveman style.
“Hey, dick-wipe! You aren’t taking her anywhere!” From my upside down position I could see Keira’s feet planted firmly in the doorway. She yanked me out of his arms. I swayed, the wine coupled with the headrush of being pulled around wasn’t doing me any good.
Alfie stopped but his body was humming with tension.
“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just called me a dick-wipe and instead, offer to hire a team of decorators for you if you let us leave.” Wait, what? There was no way she would agree to that.
Keira was still scowling at him. “Sure, I’m just going to trade my friend in for a new paint job.”
“I’m not going to hurt her, I promise.”
Keira glanced at me, uncertainty plain on her face. She didn’t know what to make of him anymore than I did.
“It’s fine. I’ll go with him.” I had no interest in putting Keira in the middle of my drama.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll even make sure you get a new ladder out of it.” I had time to kiss her briefly on the cheek before Alfie pulled me towards the door.
In his car, the world swayed a little as he pulled out into traffic.
“Why did you come here tonight?” I slurred and his grip tightened on the steering wheel.
He was pissed. Really pissed. “Fine, don’t answer me then.
” I turned my gaze out the window, intending to ignore him, but the outside world blurring past had me feeling nauseous so I shut my eyes tight.
When I opened them again I realised we were going in the exact opposite direction of my house.
“Hey, why aren’t you taking me home?”
“I’m taking you to my hotel.”
“I want you to take me home. My sister is expecting me. She’ll be wondering where I am.” That was a lie. I’d already texted her to say I was staying at Keira’s, but he didn’t need to know that. He ignored me and kept driving. “Take me home, Alfie,” I repeated but he continued to ignore me.
“Take me home!” I kicked the glove box of his stupid expensive car.
“Take me home!” With a snarl, he turned off the main road, taking us up a country lane.
I had no idea what his plan was but this wasn’t the way to anywhere.
Suddenly, with so much force I was thrown back in my seat, he swung the car off the road and into a field.
We came to a halt and only then, when he’d turned the engine off and undone his seat belt, did he turn his eyes on me.
“I was at my friend’s house,” I snapped before he could start lecturing me. “We had a couple of drinks, Alfie, that’s it. You have no right to treat me like this. I’m not a child! I want you to take me home right now.”
“No.”
“Natalie will be worried and I can’t call her because my phone is still at Keira’s since you didn’t give me time to grab it before you dragged me out of there like a caveman!” I yelled, my face flushed, my hands shaking with outrage.
“Your sister is expecting you home any minute?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” He cocked his head and gave me that look, the one that was about to call bullshit. “So you were going to drive home drunk?”
“What? No, I?—”
“So you were going to stay at Keira’s instead?”
“No,” I lied, trying to fight the feeling I was being backed into a corner.
“Well, which is it? You were either going to sleep it off at Keira’s and your sister knew you wouldn’t be home, or you were going to drive home drunk. Which one is it, Lola?” I blazed at him, spitting mad. He knew he had me.
“That’s what I thought,” he spat and, without another word, he started the car, reversed out of the field and had us speeding to The Carlton.
I wanted to throw myself out of the car and run away but I couldn’t because the arrogant fucker had slammed the child locks on as soon as we were on the road.
We sat in cold silence for the rest of the journey. I was way too drunk to deal with this. When we finally arrived at The Carlton, I didn’t wait for him to get my door for me. I launched myself out of the Aston Martin, slamming the door so hard he winced. Good.
I stalked into the hotel, ignoring the judgemental looks from the valet, the owl-faced receptionist, the bellboy, and many, many guests. I was wearing dungarees so short you could see my underwear if I bent over and one of my feet was still covered with dried magnolia paint. I was a mess.
When we reached his suite I stomped up the stairs away from him.
I stalked down the hallway, straight past his bedroom door, and tried the next door, finding an office.
I slammed the door behind me. There wasn’t a lock but I didn’t hear his footsteps so I figured he’d wisely chosen to give me some space.
The office was all dark wood and green leather, and there was an L-shaped couch by the window.
I flopped down onto it, my head still spinning.
Disappointment weighed heavy. Why did he do this?
My anger and humiliation sat in my stomach like a dead weight until eventually, sleep came for me and relieved me of the responsibility of dealing with it.