Winter Blues (26 page)

Epilogue

Darlene

Walking in these damn heels is hard enough without the jelly legs that come with nerves. I don’t get nervous. Apparently
though, I do when it comes to him. This will be the first time I have seen him in months. He contacted me out of the blue and despite working so hard to distance myself from him I found myself agreeing to dinner. I don’t know why. Suppose I’m just glutton for punishment.

He’s gone all out choosing this restaurant to meet up and that’s only adding to my nerves.
As I travel up the forty floors my stomach feels weightless, rising to push the air from my lungs. I’m a little giddy, but excited. I’ve missed him.

A suited gentlema
n dirtily looks over my little black dress, chosen to exude confidence that I don’t completely feel. With a sharp cough from myself he escorts me to our table, which he informs me my date is already seated at. So he is. Rising in my presence he allows me a look at his sharp suit. He’s dressed in head-to-toe grey with an open collared black shirt. It’s slim fitting, showing off how in shape he is. His smile blows me away and his eyes look darker than ever. They don’t move from my face.

“Darlene,” he breathes,
my name from his lips provoking many memories. I push them back, wanting to focus on here and now.

“Reid.
”

The suited not-so-gentleman leaves with a tight smile as Reid rounds the table. Stepping close enough that I can smell his glorious aftershave, he kisses me on the cheek. I respond a little awkwardly, thrown by the heat that comes with his nearness.

As he helps me into my seat I can feel the burn of his focus on my exposed back. “You look beautiful, Darl. Better than ever.”

“I could say the same for you. You shaved,” I say, pointing to his smooth jaw. He looks great.

“New me.” He shrugs.

I take a sip from my water as Reid sits opposite, his eyes continuing their exam
ination as if I am to be marveled. A waiter interrupts the silent staring with a wine list offered to Reid. He gestures for it to be given to me and I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Umm, I won’t be drinking any wine, but you’re more than welcome to.”

Reid narrows his eyes curiously before dismissing the waiter with a request for more water. “You’re not drinking?”

“I don’t drink anymore. I’m kind of on a health kick.”

His smile is telling. “Are you still running?”

“Every day.” I can’t help return his smile. I’m pretty proud of myself.

“I’m impressed.”

“It’s not for you,” I reply, a little defensively.

“That’s why I’m impressed.”

We order food and converse about the restaurant, the weather and his grandparents, before working on the important subjects. He’s shocked to hear that I stayed in Chicago. He just assumed that I would find my way back to LA or perhaps to see my mama, wherever she may be. No, I wanted to teach and a great position had been offered to me and I took it. It’s early days, but I really love it.

In return
, I’m delighted that Reid has taken over James’ job, freeing up some time, bumping his paycheck and allowing him the freedom he wanted to work closely with authors. The pride I feel is unnerving. I care way too much for someone I’ve been trying to detach myself from.

“Are you still at the apartment?” I ask, finally managing to eat something. We have been far too busy talking to remember the food.

“It’s on the market.”

“Oh?” A trace of upset pools in my stomach.
The apartment was in his name and he was the only one who ever paid toward it, but still. I miss that place.

“Too many memories, ya
’ know. I’m hoping to get a house down by the water.”

“My apartment overlooks the water, it’s beautiful.”

With no hesitation or shame he asks, “Do you share it with anyone?” I almost choke on my food.

“No, Reid.”

“It’s just that I noticed you don’t wear your wedding ring.” He eyes my hand with obvious hurt. I reach to my neck and toy with the delicate chain, pulling out the white gold ring and the songbird pendant from my bracelet. “I got sick of answering questions about my husband and his whereabouts.”

“Right,” he sighs. “The songbird?”

“The chain broke. I cried for days.”

“It looks nice at your neck.” His eyes travel over my jaw, my neck, my chest, but unlike the attention received by the suited pervert, I welcome this. I respond to it with warmed cheeks and a throbbing pulse.

Reid fills up my glass and I allow myself a glance at his hand. Happiness swarms me when I see his ring, where it always has been.

“I saw you performing.”

“What?” I ask, thrown off guard.

“At the little country bar up from the park. I was walking past and heard your voice. I thought I’d imagined it. Thought my grieving f
or you had turned me insane and I was hallucinating.” He chuckles weakly, staring down at his food. “Then I stepped inside and there you were, blowing everyone away with your Faith Hill.”

“You should have said something.”

“I wanted to, but I was a mess. My beard was out of control and I hadn’t worked out in weeks. I’d lived off pizza and had to take time off work. But you...you looked amazing. I decided at that moment to get my shit together, for you.”

“Reid...”

“I know, I know. I don’t expect you to agree to be my wife again, in mind, not just on paper. I’m not trying to force the happy ever after anymore. I am, however, asking you to consider, maybe one day in the not so distant future...coming on a date with me.”

I’ve never seen him look so nervous, not even on our wedding day. I can see a bead of sweat forming on his forehead and he’s now worrying his bottom lip between his perfect teeth.

I smile at both his honesty and his stupidity. “A date? And what do you call this?”

A light laugh leaves his lips, rel
ieving a little tension. He gifts me that precious, longed for, lopsided smile. “This, this was to test the waters. I didn’t even think you’d show.”

Toying with the food on my plate
, I fight the warmth that is spreading over my entire body under his scrutiny. “I couldn’t not.”

After our main course we order dessert an
d coffee. Neither of us finishes any of it but I guess we both want to prolong the evening. Conversation has flowed effortlessly and the chemistry that has crossed the table has been so strong that I’m struggling to remember why we are no longer together. I’m delighted with how tonight has gone and intrigued to where it leaves us.

Reid and I share the elevator down, the tension neve
r leaving us as we walk to our cars. I can’t help the regret that comes with the close of this evening. I could live forever in this moment.

“Nice ride,” he says, eyeing the silver Porsche.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

“It’s not mine.” My cheeks blush and so I try to cover them. Reid catches my hands before they can hide my embarrassment. Narrowing his eyes he wordlessly tells me to explain. “I wanted you to think I’d done well for myself, and I have, but I thought this car, this dress, the fact that I have spent the entire day in the salon, would hide how I have been in hell without you. I told you that time heals, and it has. I have been shown what my life can be without you and it’s not the life I want. I’m proud of my job, my home, but I can’t enjoy any of it without you at my side.”

I watch him watching me with an unreadable expression and feel like I am going to burst from his silence. “And if you don’t say something soon I’m just going to die of embarrassment and
then I won’t be able to give this Porsche back to my boss.”

He exhales heavily.
“I’ve never seen you blush so much. You’re never this nervous. You don’t have to be nervous with me.”

“Well, telling the love of your life how you made the world’s biggest mistake in leaving is pretty mortifying.”

Cupping my face in his hands, he smiles another lopsided smile. I can see his eyes sparkle as they sweep over my features and fall on my lips. “No, it’s not. Not when I felt it all too. But we’re here now, it doesn’t matter how we got here.”

We are so close that either one of us would only have to angle our lips to be kissing, but for some bizarre reason this feels even more
intimate. I can feel his breath. I can smell the coffee that coats his tongue and the aftershave that I brought him for his last birthday. The memories are there but there’s something so fresh about the connection between us. I could explore that connection with a simple lift of my lips.

B
ut I don’t.

I don’t want to rush anything. I want the nerves that
will build until our next date. I want to miss him and be eager to be with him. I want to treasure us how I failed to treasure us before.

I want a fresh start.

Reid assists as I lower myself into the car. He makes no effort to move as we say a regretful goodbye. I start the engine and offer a wide smile through the closed window. Mimicking a phone at my ear, I mouth the words ‘
you’ll call?’

W
ith that precious lopsided smile, he gently presses his palm to the glass and mouths back, ‘
I promise
.’

Acknowledgements

A lot has happened since I first began to write. Many friendships have been made and my existing relationships strengthened. I’m incredibly lucky to have such wonderful people in my life, however big or small a part they play.

Huge thanks go to
my partner, Nath. You know why I’m grateful for you. That you have allowed me to pursue my dream instead of insisting I get a ‘real’ job makes me love you even more. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Fact.

My children. You are too young to ever understand this, and b
y the time you are old enough I will forbid you to read this anyway. But you know I love you, more every day. Mummy promises to come out of her writing cave every once in a while to draw numbers and play cats.

My parents. Thank you for bailing me out more times than I can remember. “When I’m rich and famous.”

Monica Martinez and your seriously creative mind. Thank you for dressing my baby. I love it so much.

My beta-readers;
Alexandra González, Theresa Loechner, Sara Fuller, Stephanie Cobbs, Anjuli Rivera, Kiomara Gonzalez, Diego Velasco, Faith Flores, Mia Kayla, Danielle Perkins, Christine Leota-Schwalger, and Angelica Alaniz. If I’ve forgotten you it’s because of my Dory-like memory, and nothing to do with you!

I’d love to thank each of my book bitches individually but seriously,
there are so bloody many of you and you’re all fantastic! Your support has been immense! Everyone from SMI Book Club especially.

Special thanks need to go to the blogs. I never realized just how important bloggers were until writing Winter Blues and your support and love has been beyond anything I could have expected. You ladies go a long way to helping indie authors and I just hope you are thanked enough!

And last, but not least. Amy Miller AKA my SAL. Your friendship is so incredibly important to me. I thank you for putting up with my ranting, book related and otherwise. I thank you for being my ultimate book bestie and my screenshot slut. I thank you for the sprouts and the Shakespeare. Live you to the stars. And happy birthday Tim! (hehe!).

Please read on for a look at an unedited chapter of Life Of Fine, due for release Spring 2014

Life Of Fine

Him

Today is going to be a bad day.

I step out of the glass dome of Canary Wharf Station and into harsh morning light that singes my eyes and highlights my hangover. I negated to wear my sunglasses this morning for fear of looking like a grade A tosser, and while I’d have been right – it’s January and classically so – I now wish I’d taken the risk.

It’s typical of this early hour, the streets already teaming with life. Through silver buildings, tall and proud, busy commuters rush to work, shoppers race to shop, and cars fight through thick traffic. It’s a comfort despite how crap I feel. I’ve lived here for almost two years now after moving from Ireland with just me, myself and I for support and I love it. I fit in fast and won more friends than I can count. Not real friends, but drinking friends, partying friends. Weekend friends, I guess. Which is fine by me. I couldn’t cope with this feeling through the working week.

As I walk towards work each step is a conscious effort and the very action is an ongoing punishment. However, I can only blame myself. A weekend on the town was my idea. Consider this hangover the cruellest form of karma.

Desperate for a cure, I find myself in my usual Starbucks. I come here almost every day having been brainwashed into believing that I need caffeine to survive, along with the rest of London. Sarah’s face lights up behind the counter as I walk in and I watch with a little too much ego as she straightens out her hair. She’s cute. No, she’s adorable. And she’s made it no secret that she wants me. If she was a few years older and a little less breakable then I’d be coming here for more than just coffee. Until then...

“Morning, gorgeous,” I say, laying my Irish accent on thick because she’s told me so often how much she likes it.

She beams in response. “Alright.”

“Good weekend?”

“Yeah, it was okay. You?”

“Too good. I’m dying here,” I admit, running a hand over my crazy hair.

“You still look good,” Sarah says with a soft blush.

I
tap my heart with my fist as if her words have deeply touched me. “Stop it, you tease.”

There’s an exaggerated huff beside me, someone with too little time and far too much attitude. I turn, expecting to see your standard busy business man, but I’m proven wrong.

And happily so.

The culprit is a pint-sized blonde with dark, dark eyes. Unfortunately, she permits me only a split second to look before sighing and cruelly turning away. I don’t know what it is that bothers me so much about her dismissal but I find myself unusually apologetic.

“Sorry,” I mutter and turn back to Sarah. “I’ll take a...”

“Venti latte, two pumps of vanilla with extra foam to go.”

I smile, impressed, although my order hasn’t changed in the two years I’ve been coming here so I shouldn’t be. “Thanks. Maybe an extra espresso shot today, yeah?” I turn to my new best friend and mouth ‘rough night’ by way of explanation. She raises her eyebrows and smiles a tight-lipped, fake smile.

If that’s her fake smile I bet her real one is killer.

Sarah silently takes my money before moving her attention to Huffer.

“Two grande chamomile teas and a signature hot chocolate, please. Oh, and a blueberry muffin. To go.” Her voice is soft, local. Nice. 

Sarah bites, “Name?”

She’s shuffling around in her purse for shrapnel when she answers, “Maggie.”

Maggie
.

Even in my head her name is spoken as a sigh. As she pays I look up and down her petite body, probably no more than five-three, five-four tops. She’s wrapped up for predictably cold weather, wearing a long coat and a thick red scarf. Beneath her coat is what is clearly a nurse’s uniform and you can imagine, as a guy, that’s pretty bloody hot.

Together we shift over to the side to wait for our drinks as Sarah continues to serve the sudden line of people. “You know, that’s my favourite name,” I blurt, still checking out the uniform, which just so happens to finish at her knees.

I quickly shift my gaze when I hear her snap, “Excuse me?”

I think back to what I said.
Shit
. “I mean song, that’s my favourite song. M-Maggie May is my favourite song.”

Get a grip, dickhead.

“Oh right. Hmm, never heard of it.”

“Seriously?”
Seriously?

Before my better judgement has kicked in I start singing. Like, actually singing. She is not the only customer watching me with equal measures of embarrassment and amusement, but I’m unable to stop. Not until she physically touches me on the shoulder and nudges me from my ridiculousness. 

“Stop! I was kidding!” She’s fighting a smile. She’s amused. That’s something at least. “Kudos on the vocals though,” she adds, moving past me to grab a couple of napkins.

“Ha!”
Check. Yourself. Man
. “Thanks. You know, I actually...”

“Drinks up.”

Sarah pushes our drinks to the very edge of the counter with a little more force than necessary. I offer her a wink but she gives nothing in return.

Maggie cups her drinks together in the holder and balances the muffin on the top before smiling weakly and turning to walk away. I all but race ahead of her so that I can open the door like a true gent. I bow gallantly...ridiculously, but she chuckles in response and I vow to push this. 

“So, you’re local?” I ask when she immediately turns to walk in the opposite direction I need to go. I follow, naturally. I’m drawn to her and I can’t place why. She’s nothing like my usual type. Not that I have a type, per se, unless ‘easy’ is a type. But she’s not interested, clearly, and that is normally enough to disinterest me. Something keeps me going though. Maybe the fact that I’m suddenly awake, suddenly hangover-free, suddenly wishing I didn’t look like a tramp.

“Mmm hmm,” she replies half-heartedly. Whether purposely blasé or forced, I don’t know.

“A nurse?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I match her stride and bump shoulders with her. “A conversationalist?”

She hides a smile. If she isn’t interested she really shouldn’t tease me like this. I won’t be happy until I see her true smile. And get her phone number.

We’re walking towards the pedestrian crossing and I’m probably already late for work. I need to wrap this up. “Maybe we could converse more over a coffee tomorrow? Same place, same time? Or dinner, if you want? Drinks, perhaps?”

I promise, I’m normally so much cooler than this.

“No, I’m sorry. No.”

“Really?” The disappointment in my voice is a tad embarrassing.

I’m crossing the road with her. I can’t turn back.

“Really. I can’t.”

“You can, you just want me to serenade you again,” I kid.

She smiles. Fully.
Finally
.

It’s breathtaking. I stop walking, cemented by wonderment.

When she turns to see where I’m at her eyes widen to my right and I follow her gaze to see a car speeding towards me. As if on fast forward it reaches me before I can even attempt to react and I’m struck hard and tossed over the bonnet like litter. Pain consumes me but I’m still aware that I’m falling with gravity-defying heaviness towards the hard floor. My head hits the ground and sends me into immediate blackness.

The last thing I hear is Maggie’s haunting scream.