Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“Is Helen okay?” I lift my hand to my chest, feeling my heart race. She was line-dancing three months ago. She was happy, she was excited about life. There’s no way she’s hurt herself. I can’t believe that she would have taken a turn like this. Alfie must be beside himself with worry.
“I’m not sure. Alfie got the call, and I could hear Caleb talking through the speaker, but I won’t lie to you, Alfie looked concerned. I’m not sure if he’s heading to the hospital now. He just left without saying anything.”
“Shit…okay. I’ll probably head home to see if he’s there.”
“Maybe wait a while. We’ll finish dinner, and you can help me buffer between Katie and Jonesy.”
That actually would be nicer than being home alone.
We descend the stairs quietly, and when we enter the room, Jonesy is holding Katie against his chest, dropping a kiss to the top of her fiery red hair.
Lottie coughs politely, and Katie jumps back, swiping at her cheeks as if she’s been crying.
Jonesy's soft, calm exterior has been replaced with a scowl reserved for Lottie.
Presumably, for breaking up their rare, vulnerable moment.
“It’s normal for a Dinner Club to actually eat dinner, people.” Lottie claps her hands together twice before gliding into the kitchen.
She brings back more wine, topping up everyone's glass.
“Now we’re talking,” Jonesy says, swigging a large gulp from his glass and holding it out to be topped up again.
Katie, by some miracle, cracks a smile at him, and the big bear of a man actually softens. They keep looking at each other, passing secret messages with their eyes, and Lottie rests her head on my shoulder.
“Shall we play a game whilst we wait?”
“I think I’m too tired for a game; what about a movie?” Katie suggests.
“Sounds good to me. I’m just going to try Alfie one more time,” I say.
The three of them share a look, which only further pisses me off. I click on his contact, but after a few rings it goes straight to voicemail. My heart sinks again. I’m worried about Helen, but also Alfie, who I know will take this as a personal failure.
Lottie’s phone rings, and she snaps it up quickly.
“Hello.”
Pause.
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Pause.
“This is different, and you know it.”
Pause.
What is she saying, and to who? She keeps darting her eyes between me and the others, and I get a suspicion that Alfie is on the phone with her. He wouldn’t speak to me, but he’ll speak to Lottie?
“I’m not doing that for you—"
The person obviously cuts her off as she clamps her mouth shut.
“You’re going to regret this for the rest of your life, and I’m not sure you’ll be able to fix it.”
Another agonizing pause, I can hear the voice getting louder, more frustrated. It’s Alfie, I know it is. Tears brim my eyes, threatening to fall down.
The shouting gets so much that eventually Lottie just hangs up.
“Telemarketers,” she jokes, rolling her eyes.
An awkward silence lingers in the air. Katie leans into Jonesy, who has his arm around the back of the couch, his fingers dipping down to stroke her shoulder.
“I’m going to go,” I say before the tears really start flowing.
“Wait, come with me. I had a gift for you. Well, I hope it’s a gift, anyway.”
She sweeps me into the kitchen, leaving Katie and Jonesy to conspire in the living room.
“It’s not really something I can wrap.” She leans across the kitchen island between us. “How would you feel about coming on as a clinical psychologist at my practice?”
What?
Working with the Dr. Charlotte Buckingham. People would kill to be in this position. I didn’t even know there was a position available.
“Why me? I mean…yes, obviously. I would love to work for you.”
“With me,” she corrects, and my grin doubles in size.
“With you,” I parrot. “But why me? There must be lots of other candidates that are more qualified or have better experience with the work you do.”
“I do similar work to Alfie. I just have a bigger profile.” She shrugs. “I would need you to start as soon as possible. Alfie gave the okay for you to start in a week, giving you a week off.”
I frown. I don’t have a week off. “Was this arranged before tonight?”
She hesitates momentarily. “Partly. The job was yours before you walked through the door.”
Then, it must be the timing that’s changed. Alfie doesn’t want me to work with him again. Fuck, how can I be so elated and so devastated simultaneously?
“It’s over, isn’t it?” I whisper.
“I don’t think so,” she says softly, reaching out for my hand. “I think he’ll need some time, and then he’ll pull his head out of his ass. But whether you want to wait for him is up to you.”
Why is she so wonderful? Alfie is her friend, not me.
“I want to say yes, but I think I should think about it first. I want to talk to him. I want to tell him that he can’t push me away like this.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for your call. I’m not going to hire anyone else in the meantime, so would you let me know?”
“Yeah, thank you, Lottie.”
She walks me to the door, and I wave goodbye to Katie and Jonesy, who seem to have melted into each other on the couch.
My Uber arrives a few minutes later, and I head toward Alfie’s house. I would go straight to mine, but most of my things are there now, so I at least need to pick them up.
◆◆◆
The light is on when I’m back, so I know he’s not at the hospital. I take a deep breath, pushing the door in and slipping down the hallway.
“Alfie?”
I hear a groan coming from the living room, and I make my way there. Alfie is slumped in the chair, a half-finished bottle of whiskey with the cap off in one hand, the other pushing back his hair from his face.
“Alfie?” I repeat, and his head lifts.
“I’m drunk.”
“I can see that,” I reply coarsely. I don’t mind people pushing their limits, but he’s gotten drunk alone, knowing we had things to discuss. He’s a psychologist, for God’s sake.
“Did you get the job?”
“Yeah, I got the job.”
“Congratulations, Dr. Sinclair. I’m so proud of you,” he mumbles, taking another swig of the amber liquid.
“I wish you hadn’t left.”
“Get used to it, Mia. That’s what this job is. You miss everything—birthdays, anniversaries, dinners. You don’t have time because the patient comes first. They always need to come first.”
“You’re allowed to come first too, you know. Not all the time, but sometimes. Your patients need you to be healthy too.”
“I was healthy before you.”
His words hit me like a sledgehammer. He thinks I make him sick?
He sees my face and scoffs at me, or himself, I don’t know.
“You’re a distraction, Mia. One that I can’t afford. My patients can’t afford it,” he slurs. I’ve never seen him so out of control.
“You’re not your father, Alfie. You can have a life and a career. You know this.”
He shakes his head. “Helen’s in the hospital because I’ve been playing house with you. I’ve been pretending that I can have it all. And I can’t. Neither can you. Do you think you’ll have time for me when you start working with Lottie? You won’t.”
“I make time for people I love,” I spit.
“I’m not risking the lives of my patients.” His voice, despite being slurred, has a certainty to it.
No, no, no.
This is not happening. The floor sways beneath my feet as my body fights against the flip-flop of my warring emotions. Happy, sad, devastated, confused, fucking furious.
“We can talk in the morning. We’re not making any decisions tonight,” I say weakly.
“We’re not talking in the morning. I have to see my patient. Aren’t you listening?” He sneers. “You’re going to ruin me.”
My heart wrenches. The pain is insurmountable.
In his drunken stupor I’ve learned he’s capable of being purposefully callous and cruel.
In his inebriated state, the truth really does come out.
At least I get closure. At least this time, I know where I stand, and I’m not waiting like an idiot for someone to come back to me.
“I’ll get my things. Goodbye, Alfie.”