I slid the key into the lock and didn’t look at her as I replied, ‘It’s not like you gave me much time to explain.’
Her mouth opened as if she was going to snap back at me, but she grimaced and crossed her legs again.
‘Okay, at this point, I don’t care if you’re planning to kill me. At least it would give me some relief. Good lord, what is this pain?’
I opened the door and quickly ushered her into the bathroom located just off to the right.
The air in the open-plan room was humid due to the automatic sprinklers rigged up over the large array of plants scattered around. Rows upon rows of indoor and outdoor greenery greeted you the moment you stepped inside. A literal oasis. This place was my brother’s pride and joy. Hewould shit a brick if he knew that on the first day he’d given me a key, I’d let a stranger inside. To be fair, she didn’t seem the type to steal, but then again I’d been proven wrong before. However, I consoled myself with the fact that I was right here. She was hardly likely to do anything nefarious with me watching.
As I waited outside the bathroom, I flicked through my texts.
The usual from my PR manager—not one asking how I was—all of them explaining how I needed to get my head screwed on straight. I deleted them. My email inbox was full. Nearly every single one was from newspapers and TV stations asking me to comment on theincident. There were too many of them to delete in any satisfying way, so I comforted myself by deleting the email app from my phone. Tony would pitch a fit. Lately, I was beginning to find that I cared less and less about things that used to mean the world to me.
The one thing I’d worked my entire life for had been taken away from me overnight. It was fucking gone. Why should I care about anything else? It’s not like I was even good at anything else. Football was my whole life. It was my identity. And in the space of one night, it had all been stripped from me. Today was the first day in months I’d woken up before one o’clock in the afternoon, without a raging hangover.
The bathroom door opening pulled me from my sombre thoughts; a navy pantsuit and pink hair emerged, looking markedly happier than moments before.
‘You’re a lifesaver.’ She sighed, a sanguine smile playing on her lips as she readjusted her clothes for what felt like the millionth time.
I grunted. That was the last thing anyone would ever call me. I still wasn’t ready to let my guard down around thiswoman, so I started walking back towards the door, issuing a gruff, ‘Come on.’
Her heels clacked on the cement floor behind me.
‘Do you work here?’ Her soft voice called out from behind me.
I pushed open the door for her, letting the cold London air sweep in. ‘Sort of,’ I mumbled.
‘What does sort of mean? Oh, you didn’t actually break in, didn’t you? Am I an accessory to a crime?’ Her jaw went slack as she stepped out into the alley.
I rolled my eyes at her dramatics, locking the door behind me. ‘No, butImight be if you don’t shut up.’ My North Yorkshire accent thickened as I spoke. It usually sat back as a soft lilt to certain words, but this woman had lifted the lid, and now, apparently, I reverted to ten years old—with hardened vowels and mumbled sentences.
‘I thought you weren’t planning on murdering me?’ She raised an eyebrow. Now she wasn’t huddled over in pain; I took her in fully. The pantsuit accentuated her waist and flared hips, her breasts heaving under the material. They were entirely too big to be squashed inside the suit. And based on her constant fidgeting, she was less than comfortable.
We made our way out of the alley and onto the street. I went to pull my cap over my eyes but when I reached up to adjust it my fingers only grasped strands of my short hair.Shit.I must have left it at home. I turned my face away from passersby. Despite my irritation of having my morning disrupted, my curiosity got the better of me.
‘Where are you off to, dressed like that anyway?’ For some unfathomable reason, she fascinated me. I’m not sure whether it was the pastel pink hair that was so at odds with her professional attire or that she still hadn’t circled theconversation around to football yet. Remarkably, her eyes held no glimmer of recognition.
‘Dressed like what?’ She looked down at herself, expecting a large stain or imperfection.
‘Like an underpaid receptionist.’
Her mouth dropped open in indignation. A flash of anger sparked behind her brown eyes; her spine stiffened. ‘I’ll have you know I’m headed for a job interview. Which I’m now late for. I appreciate your assistance in helping me… with…well, you know. I’m Fallon, by the way.’ She stuck out her hand.
Fallon.
The name suited her.
I stared at her hand with disinterest—my own back to being buried deep in my pockets.
She jerked it up and down. ‘It’s a hand. You shake it, and if you’re feeling so inclined, you supply your name.’
I tore my gaze from her hand to her face, making no move to accept the gesture. ‘Good luck with your interview,’ I said, giving her one more casual glance before I turned around and started walking away.
‘What, not even a name?’ she called after me.
I waved a hand in the air.Like shit she didn’t already know my name.
3
