Before Dawn: A Free Falling Novella Page 4

  Like what? With my mouth hanging open?

  “Not looking at all, sweetie. Why are you saying that?”

  She shrugs and returns to the window, giggling with what almost seems a glint of mischief.

  Shame on you! Your grandad is dead, lying in a casket, and you’re goggling at an old boyfriend who looks so hot you need to gasp for breath!

  I look up, feeling a little embarrassed.

  Sorry, Artie. I’m an awful person, I know...

  In case you’re feeling confused right now, my name is Olivia and I am your granddaughter. You lived a remarkable life, one that truly inspired us all. Raising two children on your own mustn’t have been easy, but you were brave and did very well. We’re all very proud of you.

  You lived a life that was full of pride, joy, and happiness—and that’s why I’ll always miss you. I’ll miss your smile, your adventurous attitude, your passion for life.

  And I’ll miss your pranks and your thirst for a quick pint too.

  But I have to be honest: you were not a great judge of character. Yes, you kind of sucked at reading people. I suck too. I probably got it from you, so thanks for nothing.

  And since we’re at it, let me tell you: you were wrong. Not sure if Brian is the great lad you always proclaimed, and it’s settled, we’re not bound to end up together.

  You were right about Filipe, though. About him being a moron who’d surely break my heart. I should have listened to you.

  Then again, there are about seventy-five people, in my workplace solely, who think he’s an arse. So that was an easy one, it doesn’t count.

  “I’m so sorry he won’t be able to attend the funeral.” Sue interrupts my personal eulogy to Grandad when she enters the living room.

  “Excuse me, who?”

  “Brian. He’s on his way to the airport right now. It’s a big international joint-project with a New York firm and Dad really needs him there. I’m afraid he won’t be back in time...”

  “He won’t?” I murmur nonchalantly, though there’s a strange mix of relief and unexpected frustration swirling within me.

  “Come, let’s put Marianne to bed,” she says with a soft voice. Her child has just fallen asleep in my arms.

  “How is he, anyway?” I pull the seven-month-old girl closer and kiss the top of her head, the sweet baby smell and the soft rhythmic breathing against my chest so soothing.

  “Emma! What are you doing?”

  Her three-year-old toddler, who she’s just caught licking the window, peeks out of the curtain with a sassy smile on her face. “Nothing.”

  “Help me, God,” Sue rolls her eyes, a half-desperate look on her face. “Go find Josh, sweetie. Go play with him a little. Auntie Liv and I will be right back.”

  Little Emma nods and immediately does what mommy says. No tantrums. No negotiations needed.

  Sue’s jaw falls open before she narrows her eyes at me. “What have you done to my kids? This house has never, ever been this quiet! You should move in with us...” With a little chuckle, she leads me to the nursery. “Why don’t you ask him that yourself?”

  “Sorry?”

  “My brother. You should ask him yourself, how he’s doing.”

  My throat clenches. “Well, you just said he won’t be here and it’s not like I can call him out of the blue... He doesn’t want to talk to me, you know that. It was pretty obvious the last time I tried.”

  “That was ages ago, for crying out loud! It’s stupid, just plain stupid, that you keep avoiding each other.”

  “I don’t avoid him... The opportunity just never presented itself, I guess.”

  She tucks her baby into the crib and sits on the floor, head leant back against the wall, eyes closed. “He practically cut us all from his life. There are days I think he hates everything and almost everyone.”

  I know well what that is, self-imposed alienation. Feeling angry more often than not, resentful of everything and just wanting to be left alone—but I’d better keep it to myself. I’m not going to burden her with my own problems.

  Sue rests her head on my shoulder when I sit next to her. “I don’t know what else to do to help him snap out of it. He only cares about his work. Lately, almost obsessively.”

  “So, he isn’t seeing anyone?”

  “Mind you, I think he has a very busy dating life! Casual, meaningless romps with, God forbid, no strings attached. I hate to say this, he’s my brother and I love that bastard to bits, but right now he’s the kind of prick you should go out of your way to avoid.”

  “It’s been like what? Over a year since their breakup? And he’s still this bummed about it?”

  “Thing is, the ripple effects of the whole thing go far beyond their failed story. He’s not jaded because of her, because she cheated on him! Not that he opens himself up, but I think he’s kind of relieved they called the quits. They were so different. Worlds apart.

  “What really troubles him, whether he cares to admit it or not, is what Peter did. He can’t get past his betrayal, the fact a man he looked up to, who taught him so much, disappointed him like that.” Sue pauses for a moment, a bitter expression coming to her face. “And not just him. All of us, too... Remember our mum’s cottage?”

  “That lovely place in Bedfordshire?”

  She confirms with a quick nod, her eyes still closed. “What a rip-off! When our father terminated the partnership and offered to buy his shares, do you know what that greedy son of a bitch did? He wouldn’t settle for the independent valuation, he wanted much more. More than my father could pay unless he sold the property my mother got from her family.

  “Which he did. The place where they got married, where we all have so many childhood memories…” She looks at me with a sad smile. “And that’s why he hates that bastard now. Not because he shagged some woman who happened to be in his life at the time, but because he messed with his family.”

  “I’m so sorry. Those must really have been–”

  “Mommy!” Emma enters the room, sobbing. “Look what Josh did!” She holds up a handful of long blond strands and for a moment Sue seems suspended in a void, unable to react.

  “He cut your hair?” Taking a few calming breaths, she bends towards me. “I knew it wouldn’t last. The quiet. And you know what’s worse? I think I’m developing an anger problem: when those single, skinny bitches at the gym whine they’re tired? I always feel like hitting them hard in their clueless faces!”

  “Mommy!” Emma lets out an ear-splitting yell and the twins start mewling on their beds.

  I give Sue a reassuring nod. She can go, I’ll take care of these two.

  *

  Mathilda and Marianne have finally fallen back to sleep. I walk out of the nursery, closing the door gently behind me, and saunter down the corridor, looking at the different pictures displayed on the wall. All family framed memories, taken at different moments of their lives.

  One picture, in particular, catches my eye.

  Brian.

  A spontaneous close shot of him, staring off into the distance, his expression serious and reflective.

  Taking a closer look, I let my eyes skim over the masculine features, the well-defined line of his jaw, his eyes so steel-blue. So deep with intent, it almost steals my breath away.

  Maybe I’m overly emotional today, I don’t know, but it literally stops me in my tracks. Suddenly, I feel tugged back ten years in time and an uncomfortable, familiar sensation invades my chest.

  That’s the exact same expression I saw in him, that last night, when he sat alone by the shore, waiting for me. My core tightens all over again when I remember the moment I stood there frozen and numb. Observing him from the pier, holding back the tears, feeling too hurt and disappointed to listen to whatever explanations he had to give me.

  Fully aware I should have handled things differently, I try to smother those fragments of an older life, and let go. Water under the bridge. Unfortunately, I cannot now do anything to change how things happened.
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  I knock on the bathroom door and peek inside. “Sue? I should be going now.”

  “Wait, let us have a tea. We’re almost done here, and hair fashion designer over there is also jumping out of the tub right now!” she says as she dries up Emma’s hair with a towel, the last bit coming out as a command.

  Josh, who’s absolutely entertained by splashing water, opens the curtain to throw me a cute, evil sideways glance.

  “Just called for a taxi. Maybe I can drop by tomorrow?”

  “Yes, do that, darling. That’d be lovely.”

  “Okay, I see you all tomorrow, then. Bye.”

  Both children wave and shout bye-bye at the tops of their voices, the sound of the phone ringing downstairs almost inaudible.

  Sue shushes them immediately. “Hey, the babies are sleeping! Mind taking that, Liv? That’s probably Mark on his way from Brighton.”

  I give a little nod in assent and rush downstairs.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me, I’m about to take off. Can you get Josh for me?”

  Oh God.

  A flutter of panic sweeps through me and I bring my hand to my mouth. Unable to control the storm of emotions swirling inside me, I don’t utter a single word. For a moment I just listen to the soft pattern of his breathing and my heart beating hard against my chest.

  Chapter Six ~ Brian

  “Hello? Anyone there?”

  No, apparently not.

  Odd.

  I wanted to tell Josh I found the jersey he asked for, here, in one of the airport’s duty-free stores, but there’s only silence on the other end of the line.

  Should I try again?

  No, forget about it.

  But after the shit I pulled earlier today, I’m certain it’d put a huge smile on his face.

  Sure. If that was the real reason why you’re calling. But it’s not. You want to ask him who was inside—but we already know that, don’t we?

  It’s been a while since we don’t talk, a decade maybe, but I do know it was her. Ten years or not, I’d recognise her in a heartbeat.

  And now it’s eating at you. Not knowing whether you’ll be back in time to see more than a fragment in the distance…

  Olivia Burke. Once the light of my life, the most amazing girl I’d ever met. Also, the girl who gave me up so easily, who hurt me like no one else ever has.

  Don’t be an idiot, and turn off the bloody phone!

  Which I do, and then tuck in my jacket pocket. Why am I even losing my time thinking about this?

  “Oh dear. He’s going to break the damn thing and we’ll be stuck in here for God-knows-how-long till they fix it,” the passenger sitting next to me mutters under her breath. “What a creep!” With an annoyed huff, she lets her head fall back against the seat headrest.

  Two rows behind us, a bulky bloke in an expensive suit is forcing his carry-on into the overhead, which quite obviously will never fit in there. One of the flight attendants is trying to reason with him but it looks like a nasty argument is about to break out.

  “They should throw them both into the aircraft hold. The bag and the idiot who owns it,” she adds dryly.

  I’m tempted to agree, but for once I don’t feel like making small talk with anyone. I do cast a sideways glance, though, and observe her for a moment.

  Her closed eyes are highlighted with long lashes and a generous amount of makeup. Smooth, brown skin and perfect oval face, framed by thick brown hair. Full sensuous lips, glistening with a nude gloss.

  I hear her take another deep breath, and I smile to myself. What are the odds, the woman I’m going to share an armrest with for the next eight hours is actually a beautiful, attractive woman?

  Preferring to enjoy my solitude, I put on my earbuds, the universal sign you’re in a no-talking mood. Mary’s antics and yesterday’s monumental slip, letting Josh down like that, my sister’s words this morning rumbling in my head—it’s all nagging at me, consuming me from the inside out. The only thing I want is to slam my seat back and shut down. A few hours of uninterrupted sleep, without phone calls or meetings, project descriptions or architectural plans. Or time to think about how messed up my life is...

  *

  “Dear passengers, this is your captain speaking. We have now reached our cruising altitude. Please feel free to move around the aircraft…”

  “But please stay inside until we land. Because it’s a bit chilly outside.” The words come with a gentle tap on my arm.

  I give my seat neighbour a polite social smile before I close my eyes and go back to being mad at the world.

  “Excuse me. May I?” She gestures to the lavatory.

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” I unbuckle and step into the aisle to let her past, making use of the opportunity to get my iPad out of the overhead bin. And to watch the sway of her hips as she heads down to the toilet, her tall, elegant figure, the dark skinny jeans that hug every curve of her long, shapely legs.

  Taking the moment to stretch my legs, I lean against the side of the seat and turn the device on while waiting for her to return.

  Two minutes later she’s back, an easy smile playing on her lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I follow the contour of her chin, the delicate neckline, her shoulders… until I force myself not to look any further down.

  What do we have here? A free spirit?

  No, there’s no bra under the loose-fitting top, only nipples poking through and all kinds of images rushing into my head. Despite my sour mood, I grin inwardly at her laidback, confident attitude.

  Go au naturel. Why not?

  “Thank you.” Big brown eyes meet mine, and she leans forward a little, lingering at my chest for an instant before slipping back into the middle seat, the sweet, spicy scent of her perfume staying behind with me.

  “You’re welcome.” I give her a curt nod.

  “What?” She asks out of nowhere moments later, peeking at the iPad screen.

  “Didn’t say anything.”

  “Are those your kids?”

  On the background image, a picture of Josh and Emma making silly faces.

  “Nephew and niece.” I swipe at the screen to unlock it, not elaborating any further.

  “Is it business or pleasure?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Are you travelling for work?”

  “Yes.” I turn the iPad toward her, on the screen some calculations on a spreadsheet. With any luck, she gets the hint I’m not up for self-serving friends, on-flight flirting or whatever she has in mind, and pops some sleeping pill, saving us both from more awkward silences.

  “Me too. Covering a fashion event. Photographer. How well do you know the city?”

  “Not that well, I’m afraid.” I lie. After four years studying at NYIT, I know it like the back of my hand.

  “Oh, I just love New York! You can actually travel the world without leaving Brooklyn, how amazing is that? It has this special vibe you don’t find anywhere else. And do you know where the best pizza in the world is? In Old Fulton Street. Best Beer? East Village,” she goes on, brimming with enthusiasm, gesturing her hands dramatically to emphasise her views. “And let’s not forget, Spider-Man and Jay-Z live in New York. So basically, before you can say ‘Bob’s your uncle’ you’re already hooked on it, trust me!”

  Hey, when we land, would you be up for a threesome? I almost ask her —usually there’s no quicker way to get walked out on—but in the end, I restrain myself. She does have a cute smile and a sparkle in her eyes I find both intriguing and entertaining.

  “What’s your name again?”

  “Josephine. Friends call me Jo.” She reaches out and clasps my hand in a firm handshake, her brown, curious eyes penetrating mine.

  “Brian. It’s an absolute pleasure.”

  I wake up at 2 a.m. to adjust my pillow. The armrest is up and Josephine is leaning up against me, her head on my shoulder. Smiling to myself, I set her straight and adjust the blanket around her neck.

  She’s an interesting gir
l indeed. She can babble profusely about anything for hours, but still be funny. She seems smart and exudes such positive energy. Or just plain craziness, hard to tell.

  Anyway, the brown-eyed beauty here has already asked me if I was up for a drink one of these nights, but I gave myself a severe mental shake and said no. Back in London, maybe.

  Sure, I probably hold the distinction of being the only stupid bloke who’d refuse such a generous offer, but I honestly prefer to sit alone with a bottle of red than see my career go up in flames as well.

  *

  One month later…

  Naked, she slips out of bed in the dark and strides towards the glass wall. Looking out in silence at the New York skyline, the reflection of her beautiful, perfectly shaped body is framed by a million specks of light coming from the surrounding office towers. The image is breath-taking.

  From among clothes scattered on the floor, I pick up her scarf and follow, circle her from behind and hold her tight against my chest, a familiar floral scent clinging to my nostrils, carrying me away.

  ‘I want you,’ I whisper against her face, one hand gliding along the curve of her waist, grazing the sides of her breasts.

  Heated eyes land on the reflected figures as black silk traces a line down her neck, over the collarbone. A caress over the hardened nipples and she leans her head back, gasping at the sensations, breathing out my name in a fading murmur. It makes me feel feverish.

  I cover her eyes with the soft fabric and tie it gently, taking only a moment to stare at us, at her body gathered into my arms, my skin pressed against her skin. At her chest, rising and falling in an uneven cadence. At the parted lips, demanding to be captured.

  She moves to turn, but I hold her in place. “Don’t!”

  Her breathing deepens in anticipation as my hand slides down her neck and serpentines around her full breasts, down her stomach, her inner thighs. Which I spread gently, cautious fingers delving into moist flesh, each steady movement making her body squirm against me.

  “Brian. I want you…” she trails off into a murmur.

  “To continue?” I search for an answer in the mirrored surface.