‘I am useless, now, I can’t do this . . . Mike deserves a real woman . . . and my business. Jesus, how can I run that?’
She wiped her face and cleared her throat. ‘I’m going to sell up everything and let the Lanigans take over completely. My dad was wrong. I just don’t have it in me.’
As Eric pulled her close, she allowed his arms to wrap around her.
‘Now, now,’ he whispered, ‘I’ll go with you tomorrow to meet Shamus, and we’ll take it from there. Your father wasn’t wrong, Zara. You are a strong woman, with a good head on your shoulders. You’ve been through a big ordeal, and you ain’t alone, babe. I’m here. I’ll help. Besides, Mike has his own business to take care of. He doesn’t really need me.’
Registering what he’d said, Zara, pulled away. ‘What? You mean you’re not back on their firm?’ Her eyes narrowed in confusion.
He shook his head. ‘No. Mike has Staffie, Lou, and Willie. Apparently, they’ve some other business they need to take care of. That’s why they were released early, but I guess you knew that. Mike must tell you everything.’
A dark thought ripped through her mind. Mike hadn’t told her why he was released early. In fact, he’d not discussed it with her at all. And she’d been too intent on making wedding plans and getting herself better even to ask. What was puzzling her though was why he hadn’t mentioned anything to her, when, clearly, Eric was better informed.
‘Er . . . do you know what this business is?’
He gave her another compassionate look. ‘Nope. See, that’s how I know he doesn’t want me working with him in the firm or he would have said. Still, that don’t matter. I’m just thrilled that he’s out now and that you are too.’
How strange, she thought. Mike would have told his family, surely, and herself, come to that, wouldn’t he? ‘Are you sure you haven’t any idea what this business is about?’
Eric smiled. He really didn’t know himself; he’d only overheard snippets from a conversation between Staffie and Willie while they were drunk at the homecoming. They had quickly shut up shop when they saw him hovering around. ‘Well, all I know is he was asked to do something, in return for his liberty. He didn’t elaborate, so I left it at that . . . Now, then, don’t you worry about Mike. Let’s just sort out your affairs. Like I said, I’ll help you, babe. You get some rest, and tomorrow, I’ll drive you to your meeting.’
He kissed the top of her head and made a move to leave the room.
‘Er . . . Eric, have you got a cigarette?’
Eric sat back down on the bed and looked directly into Zara’s desolate eyes.
‘Babe, don’t smoke. You don’t need to.’
Their gaze locked for a few seconds, and as Eric slowly blinked, he gently stroked her cheek. She felt the soft touch and unexpectedly craved more. She leaned into his hand, keeping it against her face, and closed her eyes. She could feel Eric’s warm breath caress her skin and his lips softly brush over hers. Whether it was the familiar aftershave, or, in that moment, experiencing a sense of being wanted, it didn’t matter. He pulled her closer, and his kiss that was harder, and more meaningful, suddenly snapped her out of the embrace. Subtly, she pulled away. ‘I’m sorry, Eric, it’s been a long day. I feel so tired.’
He didn’t force the connection but simply stroked her hair once more. ‘Of course, darling, you get some sleep,’ he replied, with such an empathetic look that it almost brought her to tears again.
Once he was gone, Zara felt as though she was experiencing a terrible dream, her mind now back on Mike. She was getting bad vibes but needed to trust her instincts. What was her relationship with Mike? Had she imagined this tight bond between them? Christ, what if she’d got him all wrong? For a moment, she almost wished Eric was back beside her on the bed. He’d made her feel special and she’d missed that so much.
***
Zara was woken by the vibration of her phone squashed against her chest. She’d fallen asleep fully clothed, and the phone was still in her top pocket. Through blurry eyes, she noticed the missed calls from Shamus. She suddenly bolted upright, her hand shaking. Oh my God! Neil! she thought. With a gruff, croaky voice, she said, ‘How is he, Shamus?’
There was a pause. ‘He’s pulled through, Zara. He’s gonna make it. I need to meet you this morning. Is nine o’clock okay?’
She glanced across at the bedside clock: it showed 6.45 a.m. Christ, have I been asleep that long? she thought. She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, of course. You know where my father’s house is. Meet me there.’
Shamus paused. ‘Your father’s?’
‘Yes, Shamus, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s still my house and I’m not worried. In fact, I’ll feel right at home there.’
Dragging herself away from the soft duvet, she got to her feet and crept to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror was a stark reminder that she was ageing fast, her hair lank and her eyes puffy. Her mind went back to the vision of Jennifer in that fitted red skirt and legs up to her armpits and then that fleeting moment with Eric. Taking a deep breath, she decided she wasn’t going to cry again. The thought of jacking it all in was instantly pushed from her mind. She wasn’t going to let her father down or Neil for that matter. Suddenly gripped by a gut-wrenching feeling, she hurried back to her room and the empty bed. Where was Mike, and, more to the point, who was Mike with?
Hesitantly, Zara crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. As she reached the door to the lounge, she held her breath, afraid of what she might see. She sighed and shook her head. ‘Pull yourself together. This is ridiculous, Zara,’ she muttered to herself.
Yet when she pushed open the door, she gasped and shook from head to toe. Her eyes couldn’t look away, too intent on absorbing the sight. A scream wanted to leave her mouth, but she fought to hold it back. There, on one sofa, was Mike, wearing nothing but his trousers. On another sofa was Jennifer, with her skintight skirt up over her arse and just her thong showing. Her hair was a mess, and her lipstick was smeared across her face.
Zara’s world had just caved in but her instincts hours before had been proved correct. All her hopes and dreams were pouring bit by bit into a vast sinkhole. Their relationship was over before it had even begun. Mike’s proposal must have been an irrational spur-of-the-moment promise – now just a throwaway comment. As if losing her hand wasn’t bad enough, losing her man was worse. Feeling like a peeping Tom, she scurried away back to her room. After throwing a few things into a bag, she left, quietly closing the door behind her. Once she was on the street, she pulled out her smartphone from her bag and used the Uber app to call for a taxi to take her home.
The drive back to the sizeable gloomy house was spent with her teeth chattering in shock, her one true love having dismissed her at the sight of a pretty woman. Perhaps she’d never really known Mike at all. It was apparent he didn’t feel the same way about her. All she wanted was to be in his arms and make up for all the time apart; and yet it was clear he was happy to flirt and obviously sleep with a tart right under her fucking nose.
The driver put the radio on and out blared ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams.
What? Is this a joke? ‘Turn that fucking shit off, please, and if I want music while I’m paying for my ride, then I’ll fucking ask for it.’
