Anticipation (9 page)

Mostly, anyway.

Lena tossed the magazine she was reading onto the coffee table and stood, moving restlessly to the window. Outside, rain lashed at the windows, and the ocean was pewter-grey and vicious as it hammered against the beach below.

Blue watched her, noting the signs of tension in her friend’s neck and shoulders. It had taken her a day or two to realize it because Lena was good at covering, but her friend was working through something. Something big if her periodic silences and brooding, staring-at-the-view sessions were anything to go by.

“You never said why you’re home again so soon,” Blue said.

Since she’d moved to New York, Lena’s visits home had averaged about twice a year. So far this year, however, she’d made three visits, each only a month or so apart, and this time she was staying for six weeks.

“I was homesick.”

Blue wasn’t buying. The troubled look on Lena’s face wasn’t about craving the familiar.

“How much do you remember from your childhood?” Lena asked suddenly, glancing over her shoulder.

Blue was surprised by the weird segue, but she figured she’d go with it. At least Lena was talking, and maybe it would lead somewhere her friend needed to go.

“There are bits I remember very clearly. And there are bits I’m happy to forget,” Blue said.

Lena looked stricken. “Shit. Sorry, Blue. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” Blue didn’t talk about her parents a lot, but that was mostly because people didn’t ask. “After my mum and dad died, I made a point of remembering everything I could about them. I used to have this book I kept all my memories in.”

“That’s a cool idea. Do you still look at it?”

Blue thought about the woman who’d taken the book from her and burned it in front of Blue and the rest of the children who had been placed in her “care.”

“I lost it when I was fourteen. But I still remember. I don’t need the book.”

She’d never bothered writing down her memories again but they were still there, safely tucked away in her mind.

The softness of her mother’s velour dressing gown against her cheek.

The wet-wool smell of her father’s coat when he came home from work when it rained.

The warm strength of his hand around hers.

The sound of her parents laughing as they cooked together on Friday nights.

The way her mother used to let Blue rest her head on her lap and would stroke her hair while they watched TV at night.

For a while, the memory of her parents’ love — for each other, as well as for her — had been the only thing that kept Blue going. After they were gone, there had been so much loneliness and disconnection as she’d been buffeted from group home to foster parents and back again. Blue had watched other kids sink beneath the trials of the foster system. She’d seen them turn to drugs, or evolve into little monsters, aping the people who’d let them down or abused them. She’d seen kids break, losing the power to protect themselves. But she’d been loved once, and she’d held fast to that knowledge, to the truth of that, and it had kept her strong.

Her memories had saved her, in more ways than one.

Blue blinked, shaking her head as she realized she’d gotten lost for a moment. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You had the sweetest smile on your face just now,” Lena said wistfully.

Blue contemplated her friend. “Can you remember much from your childhood?”

Lena had asked the question, after all, and Blue’s gut told her it hadn’t been a random one.

“Sure. Big stuff, mostly. And a few silly little things.” She studied the back of her hands. “There was this time when I got lost at Kmart. Mum told me not to run off, but I needed to see if they had the new Barbie doll I wanted. So I snuck off, but I couldn’t find the toy department or my way back to Mum.”

Blue had gotten lost in a department store when she was a kid, too. She could remember the blind panic of it. How impossible it had seemed that she’d ever find her parents again.

“That’s one of my strongest memories,” Lena said, glancing up at Blue. “Being lost.”

Blue drew her good leg toward her chest and rested her chin on her knee, never taking her gaze from her friend’s face.

“If you want to talk about whatever it is…”

Lena shook her head and turned toward the window again. “It won’t help.”

“It might.”

Lena remained silent, resting her forehead against the glass, her gaze on the ocean.

Blue thought about the way her friend had been checking her phone regularly and made an educated guess.

“Let me get you started. You met a man,” she said.

Lena’s head whipped around. “How do you know that?”

“Lucky guess. Want to tell me about him?”

Lena’s gaze was haunted as she stared at Blue. “I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want him in my head…”

Blue sat up a little straighter, disturbed by her friend’s patent distress.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked carefully. Was that what this was about? Was Lena running away from some dominating, violent asshole?

Lena’s smile was rueful. “No. The opposite.”

Now Blue was really confused. “What, he made you feel good? And you don’t want that?”

“Not when it takes over. Not when it’s the only thing you can think about. Not when it
consumes
you.” Lena wrapped her arms around herself, hands gripping her elbows tightly.

Dressed in leggings and an oversize mohair sweater, she looked about sixteen — if you discounted the tattoos and the wholly adult lushness of her figure.

“Is it the same for him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you afraid to ask?”

“I’m afraid to be in the same room with him.”

“So don’t be.”

Lena laughed, the sound about as far from amused as it was possible to get. “Yep. It’s that easy. I’ve been fighting this for a long time, Blue. More than six months.”

“If this has been dogging you that long, maybe it’s time to stare it in the eye and deal with it. Grab the tiger by the tail, and hold on tight for the ride of your life,” Blue suggested.

“I’m not as brave as you, Blue. And I’m nowhere near as tough.”

Blue thought of the way she’d retreated from Eddie barely a week ago. “I’m not brave. I’m a pragmatist. If you can’t go around it, go under it. If you can’t go under it, go over it. And if that option is out, go through it. The only thing you can’t do is go backward or stand still. Life doesn’t work like that.”

Lena dropped her head forward, her hair flowing down to hide her expression. She seemed so scared and alone, Blue couldn’t bear it. Pushing herself to her feet, she hopped the two steps required to enable her to wrap Lena in her arms.

“You could always run away and join the circus,” she said.

Lena laughed, the sound of it vibrating through her slim body and into Blue’s.

“I already did that, remember?”

“Yeah, I guess you did.” Lena had left everything she knew and flown to America when she broke up with Rafel.

Lena squeezed her tightly before letting go and taking a step back. “You are so sneaky. I can’t get you to say a word about what went down with Eddie, but you just made me spill my guts.”

“Nothing went down with Eddie,” Blue said automatically.

“Yeah? Then why are you two sending photographs to each other instead of talking like normal human beings?”

“Because we’re not normal?”

“Did he hurt you?”

Blue wasn’t expecting to have the tables turned on her, and she answered before she could edit herself. “Not intentionally.”

Lena’s expression was grave. “Sometimes intentions don’t matter. You should tell him, give him a chance to make amends.”

“No.” There was nothing to be gained from
that
particular discussion.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not something I want to talk about. With anyone.”

Lena pursed her lips, and for a moment Blue thought she would argue the point.

“Okay. If that’s the way you want it.”

“It is.”

“But I’m going to give you the same advice you gave me. If you can’t go around it, go under it. If you can’t go under it…”

Blue stared at her. “That advice doesn’t work for this situation.”

“Why not?”

Because my love is immutable, and so is Eddie’s nature.

“Because some things you just have to endure.”

Lena frowned. “That sounds awful.”

Blue forced a smile. “It’s not really. Most of the time it’s fine.” She grabbed her crutches. “I’m making nachos. You want some?”

“You’re eating
again
? Lunch wasn’t even an hour ago.”

“I have a fast metabolism. Deal with it.” Blue headed for the kitchen.

“Extra sour cream on mine,” Lena called after her.

“That’s my girl.”

Blue came to a halt once she’d gained the privacy of the kitchen, blinking like crazy. It took her a full minute to suppress the urge to cry.

When she’d succeeded, she turned on the oven.

There were nachos to make, after all.

Chapter Seven

Eddie flipped down the visor in his car and checked his hair. It looked the same as it had when he’d left his place ten minutes ago, and he flipped the visor up again and admitted he was stalling.

He glanced out the window. He could see lights and movement inside Raf and Maggie’s apartment, which meant the party had well and truly started. No surprises there — he was a full hour late. Everyone else would be there, eating and drinking and catching up with the guest of honor.

No doubt Blue would be lapping up the attention, enjoying her moment in the spotlight as only she could. Meanwhile, he was sitting in his car, trying to pretend he wasn’t nervous about seeing his best friend for the first time in four weeks.

He’d almost gone nuts with missing her. He hadn’t realized how many corners of his life she filled until she wasn’t there to fill them anymore. Work felt wrong without her mouthy presence. When he wasn’t working, he sat around brooding over why she’d left and what an ass he’d been to take her for granted the way he had.

You realize you are the poster child for pussies right now, yeah?

He did. He totally did, but that didn’t change the fact that he had no clue what would happen when he and Blue were in the same room again. Which pretty much killed him.

He wanted things to be okay between them — and he really, really wanted the chance to prove to her through his actions that she mattered, that she could rely on him. That she was a priority in his life, not just a convenience. If she was hurting, if she was troubled, he wanted to be her first resort, not her last.

He climbed out of the Ferrari and didn’t bother hitting the bell when he reached the apartment entrance, punching in the code to unlock the door instead. Music hit him the moment he entered, along with the sound of conversation and laughter. He walked through the foyer, pausing on the threshold of the living space to get his bearings. The living areas of the apartment occupied an entire level of the warehouse conversion, the space being pretty equally divided into dining, TV and kitchen zones. A bunch of guys from the studio had commandeered the TV zone, duking it out onscreen in a game of
Grand Theft Auto
. More people clustered near the dining table and along the kitchen island counter. His gaze found Blue immediately, zeroing in on the electric blue of her hair.

She was holding court, sitting on the island counter, a bottle of beer in hand. She’d had her hair cut, the sides shaved to almost nothing, the top molded into a smooth, high curve reminiscent of rockabilly singers from the fifties. Her head was tilted back, and she was laughing at something someone was saying, her face bright with amusement.

Something made her look his way, and the laughter faded from her face as her gaze locked with his, only to be replaced by a slow, warm smile. She cocked a finger, encouraging him to join her, and he didn’t wait for a second invitation. He stopped only when he was in front of her, looking up slightly thanks to the height she’d gained from her position on the counter.

They’d talked four times since she’d walked out of his house, and texted dozens of photographs back and forth — and yet, suddenly he had no idea what to say or do.

She solved his dilemma by speaking first.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He could hear the influence of his accent in his voice, always a giveaway he was combatting strong emotion.

She cocked her head, her eyes warm with understanding. “Come here.”

She gestured him closer, and he stepped into her embrace. It was the first time he could remember hugging her with her face at the same level as his own — she was so much shorter than him, usually she wound up with her face pressed into his chest. Now, her cheek rested against his own, smooth and warm, as her arms tightened around him.

“I missed you.” She said it quietly, so only he could hear.