“Is he ready?”
“In here, dude,” I call back to Max, and a few seconds later, he appears in the doorway of my bedroom. He leans up against the frame as Chelsea barges past him and points her finger in my face.
“Why is it okay to shag me senseless for hours, then the next morning, tell me it’s over? What changed overnight, huh?”
It wasn’t my smartest move and I don’t have an answer for her. The frustration on her red face is evident when I don’t reply, so she turns to my friend.
“Let’s see what Max thinks, shall we?”
“Chelsea,” I warn.
“No, Tommy. We should hear what your so-called ‘brother’s’ opinion is, on you leaving me at the airport weeks ago, hardly keeping in touch while you were away, then turning up out of the blue?—”
I stop her there. “I can turn up at my own apartment when I want, babe.”
“That’s not the point,” she answers, dropping to the bed and turning her attention to my friend. “Now, what could have happened in England to make Tommy change his mind about us? Any ideas, Max?”
Max holds up his hands in defence. “Hey, this is none of my business, Chelsea.”
Ignoring him, she replies, “I can give you a clue if you like. His ex-girlfriend is there?—”
“Enough, Chelsea.” She’s really testing my temper now by insinuating that something is going on between me and Angie just a couple of weeks after losing her husband. She has a sick mind.
“Then tell me I’m wrong,” she says while watching me pack in silence. When I carry on with what I’m doing and ignore her some more, her hand slams across mine. “You're not going anywhere until you give me answers.” Her wide-eyed glare doesn’t bother me at all.
“Really?” she roars. “You have nothing more to say?”
Max clears his throat. “I'll wait in the hall.” He shuts the door behind him, leaving Chelsea to let rip.
“There has to be more to your sudden change of heart. Ever since Ash and his mate had that damn accident, you’ve been a different person towards me. You hardly call or text, and when you do, it’s like you can't wait to end the conversation.”
She’s right. I have changed. I've realised this isn’t what I want. “It might seem out of the blue to you, but breaking uphas been on my mind for a while. There’s no good way to say it, except that I’m sorry I led you on. That wasn’t the way I wanted this to go.”
Just two words leave her lips as she stares into space. “You bastard.”
She will be okay. I don’t have to worry about hurting her when the only thing she wants to protect is not her heart, but her lifestyle. Perhaps my offer will sweeten the deal. “You can stay here for as long as you want or go back to your own apartment. It’s up to you.”
I open the drawer by my bed, grab my passport, and peck her cheek before leaving. “Take care, Chelsea.” She looks away as I toss my bag over my shoulder. “Let's go, Max.”
While we wait for the lift on the landing, something hard hits the back of my apartment door and the shattering sound of glass rings in my ears. I guess Chelsea is taking out her anger on my décor. Whatever. I’ve made the right decision.
We’re three hours into this never-ending flight. I shouldn’t complain. We travel First-Class everywhere so it could be worse, but this time around, I’m impatient to get home.
The drink started flowing as soon as we hit the lounge and continued onto the flight. I was hoping to sleep most of the way, but it’s not working. I try watching a film, but nothing catches my attention long enough and I end up turning it off. Finally, I’ve given in to my thoughts while Max snores like a bear. This isn't a night flight, yet he’s sparko. Bastard.
My head drops back against the headrest. As I reflect on the last few hours, relief washes over me. At least now I’m free. All these plans for the future form in my head like buying a house in Braebeach with enough land to build astudio and ideas for new songs. Finally, we can record the new album. It was always on the cards before Ash’s accident, and it could be the perfect distraction for him. Once the funeral is over, we can slowly start working and try to put Ash back together again.
Shit. The funeral. Whatever we do, there are hurdles to jump, and it affects so many more than just our band. Somehow, we need to help Angie rebuild her life. She has a lot to cope with, but also so much to look forward to, if she could just see it.
Fuck, if only I knew what to say to help. I try, but I’m constantly watching every word that comes from my mouth in case it’s the wrong thing. Once upon a time, me and Angie got on like a house on fire and everything between us was easy. I wish we could find a way back to that. Maybe one day we will.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANGIE
“It’s beensix weeks since you left me,” I say out loud, but he’s not here to listen. Consoling myself, I snuggle against the pillow I brought from home. Scott’s pillow.
I lay silent and take in the sky-blue walls and white woodwork. There’s so much light in this room and this bed is much nicer than the one I have at home. It’s huge and covered with a beautiful plump duvet and a comforter at the bottom. The number of cushions on top when the bed is fully made is outrageous. Scott would have a fit if he saw them.
