Chapter 45
Cadi barely had time to knock before the door flew open.
"Oh my fucking GOD," Ana announced dramatically, arms thrown wide as if she were making a stage entrance. "Look who's here. The only person I actually give a shit about seeing."
Cadi grinned as Ana pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, smelling faintly of hospital antiseptic, strong coffee, and trouble. She looked like she had gone a couple of rounds with a tank. The tank had obviously won.
"You look alive," Cadi noted, pulling back slightly to study her. Ana looked the same as ever—long, black hair pushed back, glasses perched precariously on her head, piercing blue eyes full of mischief.
"Barely," Ana sniffed. "I spent a month and a half in the fucking hospital, which was like getting trapped in an episode of Casualty written by sadists." She flopped onto the couch dramatically. "They airlifted me to the nearest tertiary centre. A helicopter, Cadi. Like I'm some kind of VIP patient."
Cadi rolled her eyes. "You were a VIP patient."
Ana smirked. "Damn right I was. You should've seen me—strapped to a gurney, demanding someone let me tweet before I lost consciousness."
Cadi snorted. "And what exactly happened to you again?"
Ana waved a hand. "Ah, just a tiny incident involving a rebel stronghold, a poorly placed landmine, and my general lack of self-preservation."
Cadi's eyes narrowed. "Ana."
Ana sighed dramatically. "Fine. I got caught in crossfire during an op. I was covering an insurgency in God-Knows-Where and ended up catching a bullet in the leg." She scowled. "Not even a cool bullet wound. Just a dumb, painful, can't-walk-for-six-weeks bullet wound."
Cadi let out a breath. "Jesus, Ana."
Ana smirked. "What can I say? Some people collect stamps. I collect near-death experiences."
Cadi shook her head, still processing the fact that Ana had been so close to not making it back.
Cadi smirked. "And you already know all about my unexciting marriage crisis."
Ana flopped onto the couch, arms crossed, eyes glinting. "Oh yeah. The fucking saga."
Cadi sighed. She had already told Ana the whole dreary tale over the phone—the accusations, the doubts, Callum's revelation, Vanessa's mess, the slow, painful rebuilding. And because Ana was Ana, her reactions had included a strong desire for violence, a full ten minutes of creative swearing, and a brief suggestion of arson.
Now, Ana leaned back, adjusting her glasses. "I mean, honestly, Cadi. Why stop at talking things through? I have duct tape and a shovel in my boot."
Cadi sighed. "Ana."
Ana held up a hand. "Hear me out. First, we drop Callum into a shark-infested lagoon for being a useless twat. Then we pop by Gray's, give him a little friendly encouragement—you know, a gentle reminder that if he ever pulls this shit again, he'll end up in the same lagoon."
Cadi rolled her eyes. "Right. Because threats of murder always mend marriages."
Ana shrugged, smirking. "It's worked before."
Cadi ignored her. Instead, she noticed Ana's untouched glass of tonic water.
Ana followed her gaze and sighed. "Before you ask—no, I'm not drinking."
Cadi raised a brow. "Voluntary? Or medical orders?"
Ana smirked. "A bit of both. Turns out, I prefer my thrills sober. And, y'know... growing up with a raging alcoholic for a dad leaves its mark."
Cadi nodded slowly, because what could she say to that? Ana had never talked about it much, but Cadi had seen enough growing up.
Ana clapped her hands together. "Anyway! Enough about me. Let's talk about that absolute gobshite you married."
Cadi sighed. "Ana."
Ana leaned forward, grinning viciously. "What? Is he still breathing?"
"Yes."
"Shame."
Cadi snorted. "He's actually been doing... better."
Ana arched a perfectly sceptical brow. "Better? What, did he finally realize what a catastrophic fuck-up he is?"
Cadi sighed. "He's working on it."
Ana leaned back, folding her arms. "So let me get this straight. He accuses you of cheating, goes on a self-destructive spiral, makes your life a living hell, and you're telling me he's 'working on it'?"
Cadi gave her a look. "Ana."
Ana waved a hand. "Fine, fine. I'll be civil." She paused. "I mean, not to him. But to you."
Cadi rolled her eyes. "That's why he's not here, you know. He was a bit terrified of what you'd say."
Ana grinned, delighted. "Good. He should be."
Cadi shook her head, laughing despite herself.
Then, suddenly, Ana muttered something under her breath, scowling into her drink.
Cadi raised a brow. "What was that?"
Ana muttered again, low and furious.
Cadi leaned closer. "Did you just say 'pigs who have herpes'?"
Ana scowled, gripping her glass tighter.
Cadi bit back a smile. "Ana..."
Ana sighed dramatically, taking off her glasses and rubbing her face. "I was talking about Byron."
Cadi tried very, very hard not to laugh. "Oh, I gathered."
Ana made a disgusted noise. "Now I think he should be dropped onto an episode of Love Island—but with only himself as a contestant and a bunch of seagulls trained to scream twat at him every five seconds."
Cadi snorted into her tea. "Creative."
Ana huffed, taking a sip. "He deserves nothing less."
Cadi tilted her head. "You used to like him."
Ana looked personally offended. "I was young and stupid."
Cadi smirked. "And now?"
Ana made a disgusted noise. "Now I think he should be launched into the sun."
Cadi grinned. "And yet, I bet if he walked in right now, you'd still argue with him for three hours straight."
Ana scoffed. "I would argue with a brick wall if it had a punchable face."
Cadi leaned back, amused. "And yet you say you don't care."
Ana threw a cushion at her. "Shut up."
Cadi laughed, dodging it easily.
Ana grumbled, shoving her glasses back into her hair. "Pigs with herpes," she muttered again, taking another long sip of her drink.
Then, as if that wasn't enough, she set her drink down, sighing dramatically.
"Honestly, Byron is the king of cunts."
Cadi burst out laughing.
Ana just crossed her arms. "What? I'm not wrong."
And Cadi couldn't help but think—it was good to have her back.