Chapter 35: Taming Mr. Walker: Chapter 35

Charlie

If I thought I was in pain before, then I was kidding myself. Now I am drowning in pain.

I’ve never felt so low. It’s like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. Even Dad leaving us pales in comparison to this.

For the last seven days since I found out about the baby, I’ve been having this recurring nightmare where I’m in London, and Jackie and Danny are there with their kid. Then I wake up in a cold sweat, and for seconds I relax, realising it was a nightmare only to be jolted back into the crushing reality that it’s all true.

Sometimes it starts as a happy dream. I’m the one pregnant with his baby, then the baby morphs into a sack of air.

Sometimes, I wake up sobbing. Huge body-shaking sobs that keep coming in unstoppable waves.

During the day, it’s no better. I don’t let the tears fall, but the dark cloud follows me no matter what I do.

In work, my designs are going from strength to strength. The project has moved into the alpha stage, and development teams are being selected to start working on the new software in the next few weeks. I have the choice of relocating to New York if I want to. I should be happy. Except the feeling of pleasure has been sucked out of everything. Now I’m just going through the motions of life.

I’ll never get to kiss him again. Or touch him again.

I’ll never get to call him mine.

I’ll never get to carry his baby.

It should have been me.

A yellow taxicab pulls up outside the flat, and a tall agitated blonde girl steps out with two suitcases.

I smile and bounce down the steps. “Julie.”

She does a low whistle. “Fuck me, girl, this is a nice building.”

“Of course, it is, it’s his.” I pull her in for a massive hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” She grimaces. “He must have a guilty conscience if he’s putting you up here. Can we vandalise it when we leave?”

“No.” I roll my eyes, lugging a suitcase up the steps. What the hell does she have in here? “I still work in his company for now, remember? How was your flight?” I ask, pushing open the revolving door.

“You have a bellboy?” she says too loudly as Tom, our doorman, greets me.

“I don’t think bellboy is the right term.” I frown. “Isn’t that someone who does errands?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs. “I thought bellboy was an American butler.”

“Tom’s not a butler either, Julie.” I snort as we get into the elevator. “This place is so amazing.” I laugh. “You haven’t even seen the apartment yet.”

“Apartment is it now, what’s wrong with flat?” she complains as we reach my floor. I turn the key and push the door open.

“Holy crap!” she screeches, dumping her luggage in the middle of the floor and running circles around the open plan room. “This place would cost a bomb to rent. Like thousands a month!”

She runs so fast towards the window I worry she’s going to burst through it. “Holy fucking shit, this view!”

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” I agree. “Except now it’s tainted because it reminds me of him.”

Her lips draw into a thin lip. “We need wine. Wine is your medicine.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried that. I’m at risk of becoming an addict,” I say, lifting a bottle of red from the wine rack. “All I do is drown myself in work and drink away my sorrows. Everything I use in this apartment, every mod-con in this kitchen, the bed, the bath.”

I laugh dryly. “I’m thinking about how Jackie will be using it when the three of them come here to play happy families. In my mind, there is a family of three sitting beside the fire in matching Christmas jumpers with easy listening jazz in the background. He likes jazz. Then they return to their beautiful mansion overlooking the Thames, and occasionally they’ll vacation in the Shetlands.”

“You have their lives all figured out.” She stares at me, concerned. “Charlie, you need to stop torturing yourself.”

I hand her the glass of red and pour my own generous portion. “It’s good to have you here.” I clink my glass with hers.

“I’m glad to be here,” she says. “We are so worried about you at home. Your messages … you just seem sad all the time.”

I muster a small smile and look away. “It’ll get easier.”

She takes a sip. “Nice wine. How was he? When you saw him last week?”

I pause. “He just seemed so unaffected. So normal. He was keeping to his schedule so he wouldn’t be late for his next meeting with some senator. Meanwhile, I was a pathetic wreck.” I fight back the tears. “I craved his approval, wanting him to say my ideas were good. He just sat there, deadpan. Then afterwards he casually told me he is having a baby.”

I let out a half snort, half cry. “He didn’t even notice the moment when he tore my heart into a million tiny little pieces. He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world.” I sniffle. “Like, hey, they made my coffee wrong, but I kind of like it.”

“Oh, Charlie.” She sets down the wine and pulls me for a hug. “I know it’s awful. But don’t leave London because of that asshole.”

“Sorry,” I sob, wiping my tear-stained cheeks. “You visit me in New York, and I just sit here blubbering. Hardly the holiday you wanted. I’m so goddamn sick of crying.”

“I hope you haven’t spent every night blubbering over Danny Walker.”

“Of course not,” I lie, looking away. “I’ve seen a lot of New York. It’s magical. Honestly, Julie, it’s amazing here.”

“How long do you have left?”

“Just one week,” I calculate. “I’ve been here seven weeks. Then I’ll have to return to reality.”

I don’t want to think about my return to London, to the city of Danny, Jackie, and her unborn baby.

“Let’s get dressed up and get something to eat, OK?” I brighten up.

She nods. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. You need feeding. I mean, you look fantastic, but you are skinny. If you don’t start eating, you’ll have pimples for tits.”

I let out a short laugh. “With all the despair gnawing at my guts, they’ve stopped working. Food is just a chore now.”

“Enough sorrow.” She slaps her hand on the table. “Let me see this contract that DreamWorks has sent. One hundred thousand pounds. Is this for real?”

I grin and pull open my laptop. “I’m hoping my hotshot lawyer friend can help me figure that out. It’s likely a scam, so I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“Does he know?”

“Danny? Of course not.” I shrug. “He’s got no reason to know. We don’t talk now.”

She cocks a brow. “He would be impressed.”

“It’s irrelevant.” I shake my head. “It’s pointless trying to impress him. What good would come of it? A child is … irreversible.”

“Here.” I turn the laptop to her, and nerves flutter in my stomach. The moment of truth.

She puts on her glasses and starts reading.

“There must be a catch?” I ask tentatively, watching her. It read too good to be true. DreamWorks want to buy the rights to use one of my songs in a movie.

She keeps reading, and I wait with bated breath.

The silence breaks with a half-laugh, half-screech. “No catch. Charlie, this is fucking legit.”

We stare at each other for a moment then the silence is broken with hysterics.

“My song? My song?” I shout as we dance around the kitchen like idiots.

“Fuck Walker!” Julie shouts, splashing wine all over his expensive floor.

“Charlie, after this movie comes out, you’ll be dating movie stars.”

I grin back. Danny Walker can go to hell. I don’t need him. All he ever brought me was pain.

***

Christmas time in New York is magical. It’s five days before Christmas, and I know I’m going to be getting on that return flight home kicking and screaming.

Julie flew home this morning, and we’ve done everything from visiting the winter villages, skating around the Rockefeller, watching Broadway shows, to sitting on sexy Santa’s knee at a late-night club in Greenwich, telling him to forgive us for being naughty girls this year.

I could write a best-selling guide on what to do in New York if you are a heartbroken tourist. Most of it involves hard liquor.

Tonight is my leaving party from the New York branch. I’m heading back to London for the Christmas break to mull over whether I want to relocate here. I’m conflicted, to say the least.

We’re making real traction now, development has started, and we think we will have the first version out for beta testing with a few selected clients in six months’ time. This is the most excited I’ve ever felt about a work project, and for the first time, I feel valued. Laura is a fantastic boss; she’s the type of woman that builds you up and encourages you to be brave about your ideas. I can’t believe I tolerated working under dickface Mike for so many years.

I haven’t seen or heard from Danny since, except for the all-staff conference calls.

The pain is slowly but surely fading; I guess what they say about time healing everything is true. I’m finding more things to distract me and replace the sorrow with some happiness.

I’ve even been on a few dates, but I’m too raw to do anything more than mildly flirt. If I tried to have sex, I think I’d start sobbing my head off. Any sight of a rogue dick, and my body would physically reject it. God damn Danny Walker for giving me the best orgasms of my life. I might as well be celibate from now on in.

The Dead Rabbit is heaving. It seems like every office in New York decided to have a Christmas party here tonight. We are crammed in like drunken, sweaty sardines.

There are people I don’t know, friends of friends, and those who wanted to jump on the free drinks’ bandwagon.

I’m doing shots with Laura, Joe, and some of the developers. The shot size is so much larger in New York than in London, and I’m ramming them down my throat as fast as oxygen.

It’s a good thing I’ve booked a few days’ holiday. I’m flying back in two days, so I should have recovered from my hangover by then.

“Are you going to stay with us, Charlie?” Laura shouts, trying to be louder than the entire bar singing along to Fairytale of New York by The Pogues.

“I’m definitely considering it.” I grin at her.

“Good.” She hands me a green shot.

I smell it and grimace.

“Because you fit in so well here. You’re sailing towards a promotion. I don’t want to influence your decision, but I’d love it if you stayed in New York.”

“Jesus.” Karl leans in behind me, sniffing the tray of green shots.

“Karl!” I swing my arm around his neck, a little too drunk.

“Easy, girl.” He laughs. “If you vomit that green stuff over my shoes, I’m not allowing you back in the country.”

“You two knew each other before, didn’t you?” Laura looks between us curiously.

“That’s right,” I shout over the music. “He’s my brother’s friend.”

“Danny and Tristan, Charlie’s brother, are closer. They’ve been close friends for twenty years ….” Karl’s voice trails off into nothingness as he realises what he’s saying.

Are they still close friends? I managed to ruin that.

I swallow the green shot and shiver as the liquid hits my stomach. The mention of Danny still makes me react physically. At least here, I can hide it with shots.

“What have you told the team, Charlie?” Karl turns to me as Joe starts a conversation with Laura. It’s too loud to have a conversation in a group.

I chew my lip. “I’m deciding over Christmas. It’s so difficult because I can do the role from London or New York. I love both cities. New York would be a fresh start.”

He nods, his eyebrows knitting together. “So it really is over between you and Danny, huh?” He shakes his head. “I thought you would go the distance.”

I stare at him in disbelief as I double-check his words in my head. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” He shrugs. “You seemed good together. He was so happy when he was with you. You could have worked through the news article. I guess you’re just not interested?”

My eyes pop like saucers. Is he for real? Is he actually asking me this?

“I can work through a news article for sure. I can’t work through a baby.” I roll my eyes at him like he’s a moron. “What?”

He gives me a quizzical look. “Why would the baby change things?”

“Why would Danny having a baby change things?” My voice goes up an octave. “Karl, are you trying to be funny?”

He looks at me for at least a minute. “Charlie, are you serious?”

This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had. Is it these green drinks? Do they have some sort of hallucinogenic drug in them? Is my brain misfiring this conversation?

“Fuck me.” He slaps a hand over his mouth. “You’re not joking. Why do you think it’s Danny’s baby?”

“What? How drunk are you?” I shoot him a look. “He told me, Karl.”

“Are you sure about that? What were the exact words he said to you?”

“I don’t remember,” I grumble. Why does it matter how he told me?

“You’re being very weird, Karl. Look, I saw Jackie at his house.” I feel stupid now admitting it, in case he tells Danny.

“When?” A deep line forms on his forehead.

“After the news article. I wanted to apologise in person, so I went to his house and rang the doorbell,” I say, flustered. “But then … I heard a female voice and legged it behind the gate. Jackie came out wearing his T-shirt. I disappeared when I heard his voice.”

Karl stands very still, staring at me like I’m an alien. “When you heard my voice Charlie, you heard my voice.”

I open my mouth to speak, but the muscles in my mouth are paralysed. Is he trying to be funny?

“I’m the one having the baby.” He gives me an incredulous stare. “That’s why I’ve been in London so much these past few weeks. Jackie and I had a one-night stand. I’m not proud of it … but I’ll look after the baby. It’s mine. I took her back to Danny’s that night. He was bloody furious with me for it.”

Now all my muscles are paralysed. The baby is Karl’s? Danny is not with Jackie. Danny is not having a baby. He didn’t move on like I thought … at least not with Jackie.

My head spins as my brain tries to compute this new information.

Oh shit.

“Excuse me!” I rush out of the bar, shoving drunken people out of the way, and hit the fresh air just in time for the green projectile vomit to hit the pavement.

Karl is close behind me. “Sorry,” I say, sheepishly wiping green dribble from my chin.

I plant myself down on a step beside an open discarded kebab.

He tentatively follows suit. “I’m fine, Karl. You don’t need to sit. I don’t want you to ruin your outfit. I just need a minute.”

“Bit late for that,” he chuckles, nodding to his vomit-stained shoes.

“Oh.” I flinch. “Sorry about that.” I pause trying to take in the news. “He said he was excited about the baby.” I stare blankly across the street.

I try to remember our exact conversation. How did I get this so wrong?

“He is. We both are now we’ve got over the shock and come to terms with it.”

“He’s not going to be a dad.”

“No.”

“All this time, I thought he had moved on.” I pause. “It’s too late, isn’t it? I ask in a small voice. “He was so cold and detached at the presentation. He doesn’t care if I return to London. He pretty much said so himself.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” Karl pauses, and I turn to face him. “After the news article and Tristan’s reaction, he wanted to give you time and space so that you could decide what you wanted. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s too late. Once you told him you are dating and staying in New York … he seems to have closed the door on it.”

“Charlie.” Joe runs out of the bar as people yell at him. “They’re playing an ad for the movie on the big screen. They’re playing your fucking song. Get your ass in here!”

“Huh?” Karl looks at me, confused.

My mouth twists into a stupefied grin. “DreamWorks have bought the rights to one of my songs for their movie.”