I have it! I fucking have it! An idea bursts through my brain so spontaneously that my own shocking laughter reverberates round the suite like a mad man’s.
I’m going to need help.
I dial reception. The receptionist answers on the first ring.
‘Huxley Reception, how may I assist you?’ A chirpy voice sings down the phone.
‘Hi. It’s Ryan Cooper.’ I always feel like such a douche pulling the celebrity card but I need help. ‘Is it possible to speak to the manager?’
The receptionist clears her throat. ‘Certainly, Mr Cooper. I’m not exactly sure where she is at the moment, but I’ll page her and get her to call you back the second I locate her.’
‘Would it be possible to send her up to my suite? It’s a discreet matter I need to discuss.’
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘Thanks.’ I replace the receiver and throw back the curtains.
The winter sun’s barely beginning to rise, the sky a deep burnt rusty orange. Grabbing a sweater and my guitar, I head out to the terrace. The air is cold and crisp, yet somehow welcoming. I love it. I love it here. The prospect of leaving at the end of the month is already one that saddens me. I push it to the back of my brain for now.
My fingers instinctively strum the chords of one of my newest songs. It’s about Sasha. It’s always been about Sasha. I’m still amazed how it flew out of me. How after years of feeling nothing, I now feel everything.
Grief.
Loss.
Sorrow.
Longing.
Gratitude.
Hope.
I don’t know what I’m hoping for exactly. I don’t know how this will go. But when I’m near her, a spark of life ignites inside of me again and I’m going to cling onto it for dear life.
It’s why I’ve struggled to summon any real emotion. Why no other woman has managed to get close to me in the last ten years. My damn heart has been here in this estate the whole time. She had it.
Even when I thought I’d clawed it back, it was only an illusion. It was given so unreservedly the first time, there wasn’t a chance in hell of ever reclaiming it. Everybody has something in life they’ll never get over. Sasha Sexton is mine.
The door slides open behind me and for split second, I dare to hope it’s her. The woman I’m driving myself demented pining over.
Sadly, it isn’t.
Though it is her best friend.
‘So, Ryan-Runaway-Cooper finally returns…’ Megan Harper stands in the open doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms folded and a grin on her face. Her auburn spirals flap in the breeze, as unruly as they ever were.
‘Ryan-Runaway-Cooper?’ I snort, standing to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, but she punches my arm instead. She hasn’t changed a bit.
‘Believe me, you’ve been called much worse than that.’ She winks knowingly.
Only now do I register she’s wearing a version of the castle uniform: a black fitted suit, a crisp white shirt, and a name tag that says, “General Manager.”
‘I can’t believe she lets you run this place!’ Actually I can. It’s Sasha through and through. She keeps her friends close. Loyalty is one of her finest qualities.
‘Huh.’ It’s Megan’s turn to snort. ‘At least she knows I won’t disappear into the night.’
‘Ouch.’ My palm jokingly rests across my heart, but my tone is serious. ‘I had my reasons. Believe me, if I could have stayed I would.’
