Chapter 4
Chapter four
Emily
“Get fucked. Jack Cartwright did not ask you for a drink,” Jess’ voice calls though my phone speaker.
“I promise he did,” I groan.
“That’s so weird because Grealish just asked to take me to dinner!” Jess grins.
It’s Friday, almost a week since the weirdly charged interaction with Jack, and I am propped up in bed following a set of night shifts.
The last week has gone in the same blur it always does when you are awake at different times to the rest of the world, and I haven’t had time to update the two most important people in my life on anything.
Which is why Dan, Jess and I are now on a three-way FaceTime.
“I’m telling you. He came to apologise for breaking my nose. Then, there was this weird tension between us... and he asked me out.”
“Okay, but, in the nicest way possible. Why would he ask you out?” Jess says, quickly adding, “Not that you aren’t gorgeous, but you’re just not Jack Cartwright standard of gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” I say flatly, curling into my pillows.
“Oh, come on, Em,” Dan says sadly. “You know she didn’t mean that.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I get it. I’m ugly and no one should fancy me. Anyone I do get with will just cheat on me and leave anyway so what’s the point.”
“Em,” Jess groans on the phone.
“I know, I’m winding you up.” I grin, trying to pretend what my best friend has just voiced isn’t exactly what I have been thinking since the interaction with Jack last week.
Because why would he have asked me to go for a drink with him?
I’m a random woman he met once, because he broke my face and now he wants to take me out?
It must be guilt. There is no other explanation.
‘A beautiful woman,’ he had called me. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember how his voice had gone deep and crackly when he said it. How his huge hand had gripped mine so gently and sent electricity shooting up my arm.
Dan’s voice breaks me out of my trace, “You spoke to your mum recently?” he asks, obviously trying to change the subject but just turning it in to something worse. I sigh. I’m really not in the mood to discuss Carol Ryan today.
“No. Not since I called her to tell her about Chris,” I offer quietly.
“I still can’t believe she told you to apologise to him,” Jess groans.
“Yeah well, she’s so terrified of being alone that she couldn’t even dream of the fact that some of us aren’t that bothered.
” I sigh again, remembering the conversation where I, utterly heartbroken and devastated, had to console my mother because she was also losing someone who had been like a son to her.
“We’re good at alone, though!” Jess replies.
“I’ve never had a problem with it. Being independent is the literal reason I wouldn’t let Chris put his name on the mortgage,” I confirm.
Jess agrees, nodding. “Yup. Gotta look after yourself.”
“Yeah, but it’s nice to have someone though, isn’t it?” Dan adds, making me and Jess roll our eyes. He is such a hopeless romantic, him and his wife are so in love I swear Jess mini-sicks every time she is in the same room as them.
Jess and I have more of a stand-offish approach to love.
Look after yourself and if someone else wants to be there at the same time, then cool.
But they don’t get the opportunity to break you.
I’m still pissed at myself that I let Chris in enough to leave me in such a mess after we broke up.
Thankfully, I had Jess and Dan to bring me back from that darkness.
Jess camped out at my house for two weeks straight after Chris left, much to my dismay at the time.
All I had wanted was to crawl under my duvet and hide from the world forever, but she wouldn’t let me.
Dan continuously forced me in to helping with the twins, claiming he couldn’t cope on his own, just so I had a reason to get out of bed some days.
Despite them being there and getting in the way of my process, I have managed to build back the wall around my heart.
The wall that was there before Chris had somehow built a door to worm his way in.
Not again, that bad boy is stronger than ever.
I’m going back to how I was when I first met Jess, all those years ago on our first day in university.
Men were for playing with and enjoying but never anything long term.
“You know what I have just thought!” I almost shout, delight filling me at my new idea.
“What?” They both ask together.
“Me and Jess are single at the same time! For the first time in years!” I yell, sitting up on my knees. Jess grins through the screen as Dan rolls his eyes. “I have someone to get over and if I remember rightly, Jess used to pull everyone for us,” I say. “Do you still have game?”
“I like to think so!” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, making us all laugh.
“I feel like this needs to be a girls’ night. But enjoy!” Dan grins.
“Let get Em laid!!” Jess squeals.
I burst out laughing at Dans disgusted expression at the thought of me having sex with a random guy. We spend the rest of the conversation planning the night out, and I forget all about Jack Cartwright.
***
Jack
I fucking hate today.
“So, Jack, we’ll do a few recorded questions for the online videos, then we’ll just chat, and I’ll pick stuff up for the article. Sound good?” I nod at the producer in front of me, not really seeing them, as a mic is strapped to my shirt.
Beth, the interviewer, is sat to my right.
She has dressed up today in a dark suit and her hair and makeup have been done professionally, all for the camera staring at us.
I have interviewed with Beth a few times and the normal casual appearance and demeanour of the woman somewhere in her fifties has always made me feel comfortable.
Today, however, is less casual. It is one of the days they are filming for their new app, and due to my relationship with the magazine, I have been asked to come and help it launch.
It is essentially a gossip magazine, turning app, that is well known for writing utter lies about people; it has about me in the past. My manager set up a deal with them where I keep them sweet by doing a few interviews and giving them first dibs on anything going on in my life, and in return they don’t make things up about me.
Seems unfair but it has worked; over the past few years, this particular magazine has only published nice things about me.
It doesn’t stop the other arseholes from spouting rubbish, though. But it’s nice to have some good press.
The stage lights turn on in front of me and I have to blink away the temporary blindness they cause.
It takes a few more minutes of people faffing with myself and Beth, making sure there are no shadows or that my forehead isn’t too shiny—thank you powdered make-up thing—then Beth kicks off the interview.
“I’m joined here today by heartthrob, Jack Cartwright.
You have been sending us your questions over the past week and now, when you sign up to our app, you will get all your answers.
” I can’t help but roll my eyes at the obvious plug.
“So, Jack, this one is from Kirsty; she wants to know if you’re still single.”
A nice easy one to start with, I put on my most flirtatious grin to the camera as I answer, “Yes, I am.” The questions continue with a few of ‘is it true I went on a date with this model’ and ‘ is it true that a specific socialite’s dad kicked me off their yacht last year’.
The answers are both yes, but I don’t confirm either of the rumours because they’re not just my stories to tell.
I am hit with a round of quick fire one answer questions, favourite hair colour on a woman: Brunette.
Eye colour: Green. Boobs or bum: Both. It doesn’t pass my attention that I am basically describing a certain brunette, green-eyed, curves in the right places, first aider that blew me off last week.
“So, it’s the four-year anniversary of your accident. How have you found adapting to a new team and a new level of playing?”
My breath catches as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the room.
My chest tightens and my heart simultaneously stops and races.
“I…” my voice catches and I have to clear my throat to try again.
I clench my fists tightly then open them up again, slowly to try and stop the tremors.
I feel a bead of sweat tickle its way down my spine until it soaks into the band of my underwear.
Why has she brought this up? I need to talk to my manager about the pre-approved subjects for my interviews. This is absolutely not on that list. Especially not today.
With a shaking hand, I open the top button of my shirt to relieve the sudden pressure of it strangling me. I clear my throat again as my eyes dance around the room, every eye is on me. Staring. Waiting for my answer.
I can’t. Fucking. Breathe.
When did it get so hot in here? These fucking lights are torching me. I raise an arm to block the glare from my eyes. “Jack…” Beth prompts and my gaze shoot to her concerned face. I need to get out of here.
“I need a minute.” I manage as I dive out of the chair and rip my microphone off, throwing it on the floor as I dash to my changing room. My heart is pounding out of my chest as I collapse on the small sofa. I manage to wrestle my phone out of my pocket and hit speed dial to Aimee.
“Hey, I thought you were doing interviews all day?” comes her voice from the other side.
“I. I. Can’t,” I say, trying to gulp down breaths between each word.
“Hey, Jack, it’s okay. Just breathe,” Aimee coaches on the other side of the line, knowing exactly what my panic attacks sound like, having witnessed plenty over the past few years.
I haven’t had one for months. I am normally so much better at centring myself when I feel them coming on.
The past three years with my therapist have taught me how to regulate my feelings or how to remove myself from the situation before it escalates to this. But that question came out of nowhere.
It’s the day. It has to be.
We sit on the phone for the next few minutes—me unable to catch my breath, Aimee saying words of encouragement to calm me down. Finally, I feel my chest start to open and I am able to gulp in full breaths.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Aimee says again. “When you’re ready, do you want to talk about what triggered it?”
I heave in another lifesaving breath feeling my lugs finally expanding to their full potential as more fog lifts out of my mind. My heart still pounds, loud in my ears, but it is slowing to a normal rhythm.
“They asked about the accident.” It’s barley a whisper but acknowledging it makes my shoulders drop and more of the tension leave my body.
“Are you fucking kidding me!” I move my phone away from my ear as Aimee’s voice almost bursts my ear drum. “Every single one of those fuckers know not to ask you about it. You’ll speak when you’re ready.”
“It’s cause of the date, Aims.” I sigh, “I get it.”
“Well, I don’t. Why would they ask about it today of all days?”
“They just wanted to know how I have found getting on with the new team.” I say, sticking up for the interviewer. Aimee’s protectiveness is one of the best things about her, she would fight for anyone she loves, especially if she sees them hurting.
“Oh.” All the fight has left Aimee’s voice, “Do you think maybe it triggered you because it’s the anniversary?”
I run a hand through my hair as I answer, “Well yeah, it’s a fucking big day.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice much flatter now.
“Why are you working today anyway? Don’t you usually spend it with Andrea and Charlie?
” I flinch at the names of my best friend’s parents as guilt fills me up.
I haven’t seen them since last year, have barley spoken to them really.
Not since a few months ago when they called to say they would be on holiday this week having decided to enjoy their time together instead of staying here and wallowing in grief.
I can’t blame them. They deserve to be happy. I just can’t help feeling left behind.
“They’re in the Dominican. I thought being busy today would keep my mind off things.” I huff out a deflated laugh at how well that went.
“Sounds like it helped,” Aimee deadpans and I can practically hear her eye roll.
“You going back out there or do you want me to fake an emergency so you can come home?” I smile knowing my sister would absolutely start screaming bloody murder right now if I needed her to. “Nah, I best go back out there.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, gotta keep them sweet, don’t I? God forbid I get on their bad side and they start trashing me again, they’re the only ones on my side.
” I stand and smooth out my wrinkled shirt, feeling much lighter after having spoken to my sister.
Even if it was just to acknowledge how I am feeling.
I know it’s not fair to burden her all the time, but she is the only one that gets it. They were her friends too.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she says. I run my hands through my hair and sip some water from one of the many complementary bottles that are in the dressing room. The cold liquid centres my body even more.
“I am.” I put on one of my well-practiced grins even though she can’t see me. “Love you.”
“Love you.”