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It solidified something that I already knew.
I was so in love with him.
Not even just a little bit, but the whole way, in over my head, smiley-giddy-stupid love.
And I didn’t care who knew or what anyone else thought.
I noticed my neighbour, old prudy Mrs Caddel, on her balcony in her expensive robe givin’ me a scowl of disdain. Oh yes, how dare I stand on my own balcony in boxer shorts? She was lucky I was wearing anything at all.
I lifted my coffee in her direction. “Morning!”
She gave a curt nod and disappeared inside, and I snorted. I hoped she could see the scrape along my ribs to my nipple, the half hickey, half toothmark, where Jeremiah had latched onto me as he came.
A battle wound of the very best kind.
Aaaand my mind was back to everything he’d done to me last night.
Christ.
I downed my coffee and took a long, very handsy shower, wishin’ it was Jeremiah—imagining it was his hand and not mine—and went to work in a very good mood.
Not even Ellis’ shit-stirring digs at my smile could ruin this day.
Not even Rowan and Zoe’s curious disdain.
I took my coffee and decided to answer emails and return some calls before spendin’ the afternoon boarding up windows. That was the plan. I’d have to probably call into the supermarket at some point, I realised.
I probably should have done that before now.
I checked my watch. It was just on half eight. Hmm, maybe Ellis needed to go too. I picked up my desk phone and buzzed his office, but as I waited for him to pick up, my mobile phone rang.
It was Ellis, and I laughed as I answered, thinkin’ he must be stuck on hold with some pain-in-the-arse customer on his desk phone. But before I could speak, he said, “Cafeteria, now.”
There was no joke, no smart-arse comment. Clipped and serious.
I jumped to my feet and dashed for the cafeteria where several people—including my parents and siblings—were watchin’ the TV on the wall. It was only ever on some morning show bullshit that I never had time for, but what I saw stopped me cold.
“It’s all over the news,” Ellis said.
It was Jeremiah’s interview from yesterday. Half the screen was his face frozen, his blue eyes unmistakable. Then the other half of the screen played the very familiar footage of his mother on Collins Street, the tramline being struck by lightning, her doing that macabre dance, his stroller rolling away. Then it showed a policeman carrying a crying toddler, a small boy with dark hair and very, very blue eyes.
The screen froze, Jeremiah’s face on both sides of the screen. From yesterday and from all those years ago.
Jesus fucking Christ.
What he’d said last night came back to me.
I never said my full name because you know what comes next.
He was exactly right. He knew. Heknewthis would happen.
“Those motherfuckers,” I said, feeling a rage explode within me. An anger like I’d never known.
“Is that really him?” Ellis asked. “Was that his mother?”
I managed to look at him, at all the faces now watching me. And despite how angry I was, I was hurt for Jeremiah so much more. This was going to kill him. “Yes, that’s him. I need to go.”
I turned and ran, only stopping to grab my keys and phone from my desk, and I raced to my car.
