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“What?” I asked, positive I heard him wrong.
“You said yourself you’re going to see her anyway. If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you myself. Right before Sally rips my balls off,” he said.
“I’m not going to hurt her, Luke.” I said quietly.
“I mean it, Jack. Belle’s been through some shit, but she’s a good kid.” I winced at the term. We didn’t see her the same way. I saw her as a mature, stunning young woman. To her family, all she would ever be is this struggling kid trying to get back on her feet.
***
I didn’t call Belle right away. Even though we had Luke’s silence, I felt like I needed space. Luke’s words had hit a nerve, more than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t planning on hurting her, but what if I did? How much could I really have changed? Things were great now, but who knew where we’d be six months down the track, or even a year? I had twenty-five years of being me running against me.
She was in love with me. And I was probably in love with her, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered to me was whether there was even the slightest risk that I would end up hurting her. If there was, then I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t turn this amazingly beautiful girl into the bitter, heartless person I had become.
Turning my phone off, I grabbed the bottle of scotch and went out onto the balcony. I unscrewed the lid and lifted the bottle to my lips, tilting it until the harsh liquid began seeping down my throat. I leaned against the balcony wall and looked out over the city. The sun was beginning to settle, winding down yet another Sunday afternoon in London.
As I took another mouthful, I laughed. Maybe I was looking at this all wrong. Maybe my brain was trying to stop me from making a big mistake. Maybe I just wasn’t wired to handle relationships. With each swig of scotch it became easier to convince myself that I couldn’t change who I was.
I stumbled inside, unsteady on my feet, the empty bottle in my hand falling to the ground. I fell onto the sofa facedown. I didn’t even have the energy to roll over.
***
“Jack!”
My eyes flew open. It took me a moment to realize were I was, the view of the living room unfamiliar from my position on the couch. The rapping on the door continued until I heaved myself up and over to the door. Swinging it open, I saw Belle standing there, looking concerned.
“I’ve been calling and texting,” she said, walking in. “I was worried. Did you not go to work today?”
“Work?” I repeated, confused.
“Did you drink all of that?” Belle demanded, pointing to the empty bottle beside the sofa. I shrugged. What business of it was hers?
“Jack!”
“Look, I’m sorry. Forgive me if I wasn’t feeling all that great tonight.” I muttered. My head was screaming at me. I wandered into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. Belle handed me two painkillers. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
“Its six o’clock Monday evening.?
??
My head shot up so quickly I think I caused whiplash. “What? No, I…” My voice trailed off as Belle nodded. I walked over to the sofa. Sitting down, I turned my phone on. Twenty-one missed calls, eight from Belle, ten from Carly, and three from my father.
Shit. Shit fucking shit.
“How long were you out?” she asked softly.
I shrugged. “About twenty-four hours,” I muttered. I called Carly.
“Where the hell have you been? Your father is ready to murder you,” Carly screeched when she answered.
“Sorry, I was sick,” I lied, ignoring Belle’s eye roll. “I’ll call Dad now.” I hung up and dialed Dad’s number. I nearly cheered when it went to his answering service.
“Hi, sorry I was sick today. Didn’t even wake up until half an hour ago. I’ll call you later.” I threw the phone over to the coffee table. Belle stood awkwardly in front of me.
“Are you okay, Jack? I thought Luke spoke to you. He said he’s not going to say anything about us.” She sat down next to me, her hand creeping under mine.
“He spoke to me,” I said quietly. “I just don’t know. I don’t want to end up hurting you, and I’m afraid that I’m going to,” I said, surprised by my own honesty.
“Why would you think that?” She moved herself onto my lap and began gently stroking my hair. My hands moved up her thighs, gently resting on her ass. As she leaned down to kiss me, I didn’t protest. I let her take control.
