All I Am: Drew's Story Page 11

  Half an hour later, Sam pulls up in his Porsche, roof down with Jesse in the passenger seat. Georgia races over to the car, beside herself with excitement. “Uncle Jesse! Uncle Sam! We’re going on an adventure to find Raya and tell her Daddy loves her!”

  That’s twice in two days I’ve blushed. “How exciting!” Sam jumps out and pulls the seat forward for Georgia to climb in.

  “Don’t take the piss,” I mutter, following her into the backseat and buckling her up.

  Sam’s back in the driver’s seat quickly and zooming out onto the main road.

  “This is exciting.” Jesse cranes his neck back, getting Georgia in his sights. “Daddy’s in love!”

  My intention to snarl at him is interrupted when Sam takes a corner fast, forcing me to grab his head rest. “Jesus, Sam, calm down. Georgia’s in the damn car.”

  “Faster!” she chants.

  “Yeah, faster!” Jesse laughs, arms up in the air. “Like this, Georgia!”

  Her laughter, a laughter that under normal circumstances would make my heart swell, just amplifies my anxiety. My heart isn’t able to swell, because it’s currently chained in my chest, and the only person who holds the key to free it, to let it pulse again for anything more than just Georgia, might have given up trying to unlock it. And that would be the end of me. Like the final nail in a coffin that’s kept me safe for so long. I don’t want to be safe anymore. I don’t want to be alone. I want Raya.

  “Dad.” Georgia smacks my knee, at the same time smacking me from my ever-increasing despondency. “Uncle Sam is talking to you.”

  I look up to the rearview mirror. “What?”

  “Where to?”

  “Where to?” I parrot, rummaging through my head for Raya’s address. “Belgravia.”

  “And what’s the plan?” Jesse turns back to face me.

  “The plan?”

  “Jesus, it’s worse than I thought.” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “What are you going to say to her? The poor woman thinks you’re shacked up with Coral and a kiddie.”

  “What’s shacked up?” Georgia asks as my palms land over her ears, protecting her from the adult conversation.

  I toss Jesse a dark look. “Please, I feel like I’m scarring her for life enough already.”

  He rolls his eyes. “So what are you going to say?”

  “I’m going to tell her not to leave.”

  “Yeah, she might need a little more than that.”

  “I’m going to tell her that I like her. A lot.”

  His hands motion in circles, like I should continue, except I don’t know where to go next. My powers of persuasion will be limited with Georgia around. I won’t be able to talk about our connection, our chemistry, or the amazing sex. How her hands are like pokers on my skin every time she touches me. How my mind is constantly on her, imaging her in every position, including in my bed every single night. How she lightens my life beyond Georgia. How she makes me a better man, how I just know she can wholeheartedly trust me. How she can depend on me. How I promise to take care of her forever. How she’s given me a new purpose.

  “Cry,” Sam says over his shoulder. “Chicks dig it when a man cries over them.”

  I balk, appalled by the suggestion. “That ain’t happening.”

  Jesse laughs, deep and rich. “Have you ever shed a tear?”

  “No.” I wriggle in my seat, uncomfortable with the tiny stabs of something at the back of my eyes.

  * * *

  I’m literally quaking when Sam rolls up outside Raya’s place. I still have no idea how to convince her to stay, convince her that I’m worth her trust and effort. Sam whistles as he gazes up at the impressive property, and Jesse lifts his shades to get a better look, while Georgia is standing on the back seat staring in awe. “Does she have more money than you, Dad?”

  “And cue the balls shrinking,” Sam breathes.

  “Balls shrinking?” Georgia asks, utterly confused. “Balls can’t shrink, Uncle Sam.” She starts chuckling. “Silly!”

  I give up, smacking the back of Sam’s head before swinging my body over the edge of the car. “Wait here.” I pace the street, my stare glued to the SOLD board displayed outside. I’ve never felt so vulnerable. So hopeful and hopeless. A huge part of my brain is trying to scare me off, yelling at me that I’m wasting my time, that she won’t even entertain my explanations. But I beat back the fear and worry, and cling to the fraction of hope, raising my hand to knock the door.

  I nearly fall through the damn thing when a man swings it open. “Who the hell are you?” I blurt before I can stop myself, aware of the aggression in my stance and tone. Never mind that this could well be Raya’s solicitor, or maybe even just a friend. I haven’t got the strength for patience.

  “That’s none of your damn business.” His expression is fierce, his chest puffy and threatened. His hostility tells me he is neither of those things.

  Wait. Please tell me this isn’t her scumbag ex. The fucker who crapped all over her? I look past him, seeing stacks of boxes in the hallway, pictures off the walls, garbage bags piled high. “Are you Dean?”

  Hands up, he reverses his steps. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want any trouble.” He’s changed his tune. Must be the sudden angry twitching of my body.

  “Where’s Raya?” I ask, dangerous and low, fighting to keep my hands by my sides to stop them from smashing his face in.

  “She’s gone.”

  I react on impulse, reaching forward and fisting his shirt in my hands, yanking him out of Raya’s house. “So what are you doing here?”

  “I needed to know where she’s going.”

  What? To try and win her back? Oh no. Patience completely gone, I lose the plot, shoving him away and swinging at him. My fist connects clean with his face, and he crashes to the ground on a pathetic wail, clenching his nose.

  “Daddy!” Georgia’s shout is better at clearing the fog than being dunked in ice water. I swing around and find her running toward me, Jesse and Sam chasing after her.

  “Raya’s already gone.” I swoop Georgia up and carry her back to the car, at the same time digging through my pocket for my phone. Raya’s voicemail clicks straight in. Those chains around my heart tighten further. “Raya, it’s Drew. I’m at your place. Wherever you are, please turn back. Please don’t go.”

  “He loves you!” Georgia shouts.

  “Shhhhh!” Jesus, wherever she is, she’ll probably be sprinting there now. “I need to talk to you. Explain. The woman at my place this morning is Georgia’s mother. There’s never been anything between us, I swear.”

  “They’re just friends!” Georgia backs me up, God love her. Friends? Hardly, but it fills me with happiness in my turmoil that my girl believes that.

  “You have to believe me, Raya. Please, just call me.” I hang up, lifting Georgia over the side of the car into the backseat as I call my last hope. Andrea answers within two rings. “I need the name and number for Raya Rivers’s solicitor. Now.”

  “I’ll text it to you.”

  I jump in and frame Georgia’s face with my palms. “I wish you hadn’t seen that.”

  “Why did you hit him, Dad?”

  “Because he was mean to Raya. It made Daddy mad.”

  She gasps, disgusted, and jumps to her feet on the back seat. “You can’t be mean to Raya! My daddy loves her!”

  “Georgia!” I pull her back down, my phone chiming. A quick tap on the message gives me the name and number Of Raya’s solicitor. I dial, and as soon as he picks up, I launch into a pile of bullshit. I tell him who I am—no lie. I tell him the buyer is threatening to pull out of the sale—big lie. I tell him that I need to speak to Raya urgently, but I can’t seem to get through to her—definitely no lie.

  “Well, you’re not likely to, Mr Davies. Her flight leaves for Singapore at two.”

  “Two?” My lungs shrink to nothing as my eyes rest on the glowing display of Sam’s dashboard. It’s already past noon.

 
I end the call, feeling numb. I’m too late. I’ve shat all over my one chance, ruined myself in the process, a sadist in the worst form.

  “What?” Sam asks, waiting for some direction, his hands flexing on the wheel.

  “She’s already gone.” I mumble, staring at the clock, another minute gone, the proverbial ticking time bomb. The countdown to my complete ruin. “The flight leaves at two.”

  “We can make it.” Jesse goes straight to his phone. “Which airport?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Airline?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Flight number?”

  I sigh, my head taking refuge in my hands. “Don’t know.”

  Within the time it takes Sam to zip out of the parking space, Jesse is declaring our destination. “Heathrow, Terminal Five. I’ll have the gate number in a sec.”

  I lean forward in my seat, grateful for their determination to help me fix my fuckup, but knowing we’re chasing our tails. “We’re in central London. If the traffic is kind, we might make it to Heathrow by one-thirty. She’ll have boarded and there’s no way I’m getting through security.”

  I startle when Jesse suddenly reaches back and grabs my T-shirt, yanking me forward until I’m virtually on his lap. “Do you think I’d be where I am now if I’d let such trivial issues get in my way?”

  Sam bursts into laughter. “Nothing about your issues was trivial, you twat.”

  “What’s a twat?” Georgia pipes up from behind me.

  Sam gives me a sorry glance.

  “Nothing, pidge.” I glare back at him.

  Jesse sighs, releasing me from his viselike hold. “Like three fucking men and a little lady.”

  “What’s—”

  “Nothing,” we all sing, and Sam puts his foot down, throwing me back in my seat.

  Chapter 13

  Trivial issue.

  The team of airport staff beyond the barriers that are currently between us and the security checking area are definitely not a trivial issue. Any hope I had fades to nothing. “There’s not a chance in hell we’re getting through there.” I look down at my phone, a race against the clock. And I’m losing. She’ll be on the plane by now.

  “You just need to be creative.” Sam produces two passports, a pair of boarding passes held in the pages.

  I balk at him, horrified. “Where the hell did you get them?”

  “I borrowed them.” He shrugs like he hasn’t just committed a crime, at the same time ruining the travel plans of two poor unsuspecting people. “Don’t worry; I’ll give them back.”

  “Sam, you can’t do that.” What kind of impression will I be giving Georgia? So far today, she’s watched me beat a man, been involved in a high-speed chase across London, heard all kinds of inappropriate words, and now she’s part of a theft. I’m going to Hell.

  “Bollocks.” Jesse swipes the passports out of Sam’s hand and thrusts them into my chest. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t use these for me and Sam.” He holds up two more passports.

  “Oh my God,” I breathe, quietly trying to reason. It’s for a good cause, I tell myself. And we’ll return them as soon as I’ve found Raya. Raya. My focus realigns in a moment. I take the documents and hold the barcodes to the barrier in turn, letting me and Georgia through. “I need you to act normal,” I tell her, taking her hand and heading for the security area. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m pulling her in on my crimes. “Actually, maybe you should stay with Uncle Jesse and Uncle Sam.”

  “No!” She stops where she is and stamps her little foot. “I want to come find Raya.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, sweeping the area nervously. “Just don’t shout.”

  We join the nearest line, my eyes constantly checking the time. A plastic tray is shoved in front of us, an order barked to fill it. I leave nothing to chance, ensuring anything that could trigger the alarm on the detector is gone from our bodies.

  As I walk through the arch, I’m holding my breath, praying the alarm doesn’t go off. And when Georgia passes through, she looks stiff, like moving as little as possible might make her less conspicuous. The second she’s past the guards, I seize her hand, grab our things and start running through the conveniently placed Duty Free store. “Look for gate fifty-eight, Georgia.”

  “There, I see it!” She points up to a sign that shines the way to Raya.

  “Good girl.”

  After another five minutes running, she starts whining and I’m forced to pick her up, her little legs not built for speed or distance just yet. Her body bounces in my arms as I run and we follow the signs, dodging people, her little fingers dug into my shoulders tightly.

  “Over there, Dad!”

  I follow her flung arm, my pace slowing until I come to a stop. The sign for gate fifty-eight is beaming, the only light in my suddenly pitch-black world. The area is empty, not a soul waiting to board, every seat free. And the door to the tunnel that leads down to the plane is closed. Grief is a knot in my throat, filling it, making each swallow rough and painful.

  “Are we too late?” Georgia slips down from my arms and runs to the stretch of glass adjacent to the door, her palms slapping the window as she peers out.

  “We’re too late.” I drop to the nearest seat and watch as the plane slowly reverses away from the gate, my game lost. My girl gone.

  Elbows on my knees, I slide my hands into my hair and stare at the floor. The drop of water that splashes between my feet is the first of many.

  Chapter 14

  I can’t bear to look Jesse and Sam in the eyes when we’ve made it back to them. The grief clogging my throat still won’t allow me to speak. The mild shake of my head tells them that our mission was a failure, though my dragging feet, slumped shoulders, and wretchedness all speak for themselves. I get a rub on the shoulder by each of them, a move of sympathy, when what I want them to do is knock me out. Not to just put me out of my misery, but to punish me for being such an idiot.

  The journey back into the city is painfully silent, not even Georgia breathing a word. She just humors my need for closeness, cuddling into my side. I don’t question when Jesse offers to take her back with him for some playtime with Maddie. She needs to be a kid while her dad basks in his gloom and comes to terms with the fact that he is an award-worthy arsehole. And my trophy is the shitty ache in my chest that will never stop hurting. A constant reminder of my mistake.

  Feet heavy, I trudge to the kitchen, snag a bottle of red and drag myself to my bedroom. Overcome with regret, remorse, and a ton of other crappy emotions, I fall to my back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Those chains squeezing my heart are tight, impenetrable, but that bastard thing called devastation still finds its way through the thick links and tears a hole in the muscle.

  For what point, I don’t know, but I call Raya. Maybe to give her an update of the events of which she is completely unaware. Or maybe just so she knows how gutted I am. It goes straight to voicemail again, which shouldn’t be a surprise since she’s mid-flight, but the reminder that she’s gone still hurts like hell.

  I switch my phone to speaker, dropping it to the bed beside me so I can unscrew the top of the wine while I leave her a message. “I went to the airport today.” I take a swig and do my best to savor the taste of something that will hopefully numb me by the time I get to the end of the bottle. “Georgia came with me.” I laugh a little, still not quite believing what I had my daughter involved in. “My mate stole some passports and boarding passes so we could make it through to the gates.” I smile, but it’s strained and sad. “My girl pulls off the best poker face. She’s seven, for fuck’s sake.” I laugh, taking another swing. “It was an adventure for her. An adventure to win a girl for her daddy.” I breathe out, rubbing at my forehead. “She was so excited.” Tipping the bottle to my lips, I glug down probably the equivalent to an entire glass in one go, gasping and wiping my mouth. “But we were too late.” Piece by piece, my hopes disappear. My happiness shredded.