Chapter 7 #2
“Thank you.” It was time to go. I could sit here for days and ask him a million questions but none of them would change the outcome.
I pushed back my chair and stood. I didn’t miss him straining to hold himself back.
“Thank you for being decent tonight, Alfie. I know that you could have done this very differently but you need to let this go now. You need to move on.” I wanted that for him so badly.
No matter how much it hurt. I couldn’t go back to him, but I couldn’t bear to think of him suffering alone for the rest of his life.
I watched as he cleared his face, a look of resignation settling in his eyes, one that was so similar to the one he’d worn when he’d lied about Adam to make it easier for me to let go.
“I will. You don’t need to worry about me pining after you anymore. Your forgiveness is enough for me. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
I eyed him, wondering if he really thought I was that stupid.
His eyes tracked me as I crossed the room until I stood in front of him, my knees trembling with every step.
Alfie had become almost phantom-like to me over the last two years.
Now, having him so near…it was overwhelming.
He didn’t move a muscle. I felt the energy humming between us, electric like it always was.
I knelt, and a shiver ran through me as I gripped his leg and pulled it to me from under the table.
I pulled up the hem of his trousers, revealing what I knew I would find there.
A dark blue sock. Just like the one he’d worn the night we’d broken up.
My chest constricted at the sight of it.
I knew what that simple colour meant to him.
I knew that if I pushed up his sleeve, I’d find my blue ribbon still tied around his wrist.
I looked up to find his eyes blazing at me, furious that I had unveiled him so easily. I stood.
“Big. Faker.”
His chair screeched as he stood but I didn’t move. He’d said he wouldn’t touch me and I knew that on that, he would keep his word. “I’m not the only faker here. You say you’ve moved on, you’re doing just fine without me? How’ve you been sleeping, Lola?” he asked, his grey eyes glinting.
“Fine,” I answered, my tone cool. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile I’d seen a thousand times.
“Liar,” he whispered and I shivered, my mind flashing with deja vu–the memory of him saying that to me before in my kitchen almost three years ago when I’d told him I didn’t want him anymore.
“Your eyes are as tired as mine." He tilted his head. “See? Two years and we’re still playing the same games. I fake and you lie to yourself. We aren’t done, Lola. We never were. I’m going to do this differently, but I am going to do it.
You need to be prepared for that.” He took a step towards me and I took a step backwards, instantly regretting my show of weakness.
“Don’t look surprised, you know you came here for this.
You need me and you know it. Because you moved to a new city, got a new wardrobe and a whole new haircut but you still can’t sleep without me.
You still can’t get me out of your skin. ”
“So, what if that’s true?” I spat back, my mask well and truly slipping now.
“Do you really think I would give you another chance?
I could never trust you enough to give you another chance.
Look at what you're doing. A moment ago you said you would leave me alone until I said otherwise, now you're telling me I need to be prepared for whatever you're going to pull next.
You're as unstable now as you ever were.” My words were laced with venom.
His eyes flashed and I winced, knowing what kind of mind-fuckery came after a look like that.
“You don’t need to flinch, Lola. I said I wouldn’t touch you and I won't.”
“That isn’t as reassuring as you think. We both know that your words did more damage than your hands ever could.” My tone was cold and dripping with so much pain it poisoned my tongue.
“What do you know about the damage my hands can do?” His words sent an ice cold chill up my spine. Instant regret shone in his eyes. He took a step away, distancing himself. “Perhaps we should have had this conversation over the phone. Perhaps I haven’t changed as much as I thought.”
“Perhaps you need to get over yourself. This mysterious broody thing is so two years ago.”
A short laugh burst from him, cracked, pained, like beating the dust out of an old cushion.
“I’ve missed you, Lo.” He gazed down at me, the flashing excitement gone, replaced with warm familiarity.
I said nothing. “It’s alright, I know you can’t say it back.
I know that’s my fault.” He took a step, bringing himself a breath away from me.
His eyes roamed over me, soaking in every minute detail of my face and I couldn’t help but return the favour, no matter how much pain it caused me.
I’d missed the sharp cheekbones, his soft mouth, the jaw that could cut glass, the way he tipped his head as he studied me, the way his brows knit as he gnawed on a problem.
There was so much anger buried deep, so much fear and distrust, but two things I knew:
One. He had kept his word to me. Two years and four months and he hadn’t once tried to contact me.
And two. This man standing in front of me was not the same man I’d once known.
This man was trying painfully hard to do this differently.
He had messed up in places, but he was trying, and for that, my heart was breaking because I knew I couldn’t make it worth his while. I knew his efforts were wasted.
“Alfie…”
“Go.” He gave me that sad smile and stepped away from me, leaving me cold. “It’s alright, O’Connell. I understand. I’d be lying if I said I believed tonight would or could go any other way. Elliot is available to drive you home.”
“I’ll take the tube.” He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t the same man.
“Goodnight, Lo.”
Was I really about to walk away from him again?
Could I do this? I’d come here to give him closure and at that I’d done my best. I looked at the space between us at everything that filled that chasm.
The bridge connecting us was gone and for my part, I had no materials left to rebuild it. I gave him as warm a smile as I could.
“Goodnight, Alfie.” With that, I turned and walked away. My skin burning, a thousand invisible hooks trying to draw me back to him. But I didn’t stop.
Elliot was waiting for me outside the doors. He was silent as he escorted me out and said nothing when I left him without a word and headed for the tube station. I didn’t cry, I didn’t crumble. Despite the way I split down the middle, half of me screaming at me to go back.
Alfie…My Alfie…but he wasn’t mine. Not anymore.
The Alfie shaped shrapnel throbbed, but still I didn’t falter. I was stronger now. Chin up, shoulders back. I was Lola O’Connell and I was still a fucking showgirl.