Love Reunion: Entwined Hearts Christmas Novella Read online

  I roll my eyes as he once again glances behind to catch my eye roll, and I giggle. So I play along and pretend that his quip is something I find humorous, just like the old me would have.

  The truth is something I’m too scared to admit to anyone.

  The truth is something that could alter the path of my life forever.

  My truth is my biggest fear.

  Eric claps his hands in front of my face. I didn’t realise I’d gone into a daze, and I blink to clear the confusion as he starts clicking his fingers at me. “Come on, girlie, get your keys out.”

  I nod automatically, then, like a robot in need of instruction, I open the door and shuffle inside. I can smell the softener from the freshly-laundered washing and the lingering scent of one of my Yankee candles, the new one that I lit this morning before I went shopping.

  “Ooo… I love the new carpet, it’s so spongy under my feet,” Eric chirps.

  “Oh yeah,” I say distractedly looking down. “Take off your shoes,” I tell him kicking my flip flops under the stairs.

  “Bossy boots.” Eric chuckles light-heartedly.

  I move into the kitchen and immediately notice a used mug, and the coffee pot is half filled. My stomach drops, and I clutch it without thinking.

  “What’s up, girlie?” Eric asks from behind me, noticing my movement. I close my eyes shut and mentally poke cocktail sticks into them. I’ve gotten used to having nobody around. Making faces or showing visible signs of being upset isn’t usually a problem, as there’s nobody to see them. My life has been empty for enough time that I’m now kind of a loner—it’s who I’ve become. Micro-managing my own movements feels alien to me, but I’m going to have to start doing it. Otherwise, everyone is going to see me. Really see me.

  “Tell me,” Eric demands. His voice firm.

  “You first,” I reply, knowing his lack of silence about Rich is completely out of character for him.

  His look is meant to cut as he catches me with the very corner of his eyes, but I just smirk. I know Eric, I know his looks, and he’s very much aware that he can’t get one over on me like he does with the pretty young models still gracing his stage.

  Huffing, he settles on one of my breakfast bar stools. “I think he’s leaving me.” Eric’s voice is almost a whisper and it’s completely out of character. I join him, sitting with my mouth agape, not sure what to say. I realise my head is shaking, telling him without the words that I don’t believe it, that it can’t be true.

  His eyes fill, and I reach out clasping his hand in my own. I can feel a gentle tremble from our joined hands, and I’m not sure if it’s him or me as I watch his tears spill over.

  “It’s not possible. Rich loves you Eric, and you know that.” I try to soothe him… or me. His words are causing my own nightmares to come alive. This could be Saul and me. This might be Saul and me. “Why?” I question, praying it’s something that can be fixed.

  He shakes his head pulling a tissue from his pocket, dabbing under his eyes and turning away from me slightly to blow his nose. Normally, his hatred of blowing his nose in front of people would be enough to make me burst into fits of giggles, but today has turned into a day that shouldn’t include giggles. Today has been a slippery slope in reality for me.

  Don’t get your hopes up. Something will always come down and piss on your sandcastle, that’s how my world has been for the last year. I should be used to it by now instead of still being momentarily gobsmacked every time my life takes another turn up shit street.

  “I don’t know, it’s just he made this new friend through work. Callum,” he spits the name like acid from his lips. “Rich has been spending a lot of time with him. And I know that little miss ‘I need someone to give me guidance on my sexual fluidity’ is just after my man.”

  “You’re sure?” I ask.

  “Missy, is Kylie’s arse cute enough to almost make me consider batting for the straight team?” he replies, and I just shrug my shoulders confused.

  “Yes!”

  “Why?”

  “Well, she has that little round tight bum… I mean, have you seen her in those hot pants? If you shaved her head or put a wig on and strapped up her lady boobs, then that’s an arse I’d like to—”

  “All right!” I cut him off. “What I meant was why do you think he’s after Rich?”

  A dark look crosses his face, and a scowl appears. “Little things he’s said. Done. The way he acts. It’s all there.”

  “Have you spoken to Rich about it?”

  Eric shakes his head. “Rich has always thought that I get jealous for no reason. If I started questioning him about this new kid, I’d push him away. I need to allow it time and hope that Rich sees it. I’m scared, though, I mean… what if he sees it, but chooses Camp Rock anyway?”

  “Camp Rock?”

  “He’s a kid, like twenty-two or something…” Eric shrugs like that explains the title. “I guess the idea of an experienced, forty-three-year-old gay man excites him. And let’s be honest, it doesn’t hurt that Rich is still damn hot for his age. In fact, I’m pretty sure Rich has gotten hotter as the years have slipped away from us.”

  I smile as I watch his eyes glaze over, lost in a happy cloud of memories. The smile quickly drops as I remember that things might not be okay. I never, not for even a minute, thought that Rich would cheat on Eric. I’d never consider that he would leave him for someone younger or hotter, and as I sit here deliberating what Eric has told me, I realise that he wouldn’t. Rich is like every other man… dense. He probably has no idea that this guy likes him.

  “Eric,” I call his name, and he blinks a couple of times before his focus comes back to me. “Something I learnt from pretty early on in my modelling career. There are generally two types of men… the ones that want every woman or man with a pulse. They’re the ones that think every person within a certain age range is a potential bed partner.” Eric arches his eyebrow and nods. “Then you have the other side of the coin. The ones who could have a person naked in front of them, offering up their body on a platter, and they’d still be none the wiser to what was happening. I’m completely sure that Rich is the latter. He probably doesn’t even know this guy is into him,” I offer my two pence.

  He sits silently for a moment. “You think?” he finally whispers.

  I smile and nod, encouraging him. This insecure trait of Eric’s is not a side he shows willingly or very often. I think I’ve seen him like this maybe three times in the many years we’ve been friends. It unsettles me, and I mentally take a note that I need to pencil in a phone conversation with Rich tonight.

  “So none of that actually explains where he is,” I remind him.

  He nods and bites his lip, the vulnerability that this little dipshit has caused makes me want to find him and jump down his throat with my Jimmy Choos on. “Hey,” I comfort, grabbing his hand again and giving it a light squeeze.

  Eric offers me a gloomy smile. “Apparently Callum needed him.” He shrugs.

  I’m surprised, and I school my features before he notices. I wouldn’t have thought Rich would put Callum’s needs before Eric’s. I shake out the thought, rubbing my temples as I try and think this through.

  “Eric, not meaning to be rude, but why are you here? I mean aren’t you supposed to be in LA for another few months still?” I ask.

  Suddenly his eyes widen, and he looks everywhere but at me. After the silence lasts for a minute, he adds in a few coughs.

  I cross my arms. “Eric, what the hell is going on?”

  “Nothing,” he hastily reassures me.

  “Eric, if you—”

  “Hey Eric…” I hear his voice from behind me. I can’t stop myself from closing my eyes, squeezing them shut as my heart picks up speed and my stomachs lurches, like I’ve just taken a dip on a rollercoaster. Quickly opening them again, Eric is staring directly at me, his eyes narrowed on mine.

  “Saul… oh praise be to my goddess Cher… you get hotter every time I see you!�
� Eric says turning his death glare away from me, instead looking over my shoulder and smiling at my husband. He flaps his arms enthusiastically, then walks around me, and I turn to watch as the two men hug. I avert my gaze from them before Saul catches my eye.

  I hide my reactions from him these days, it’s what I do.

  “I need to go shower and change.” I rush out the words as I hurry past both of them.

  “Girlie!” Eric snaps behind me, but I choose not to hear him.

  I also choose not to hear Saul reply with, “Let her go.”

  Then I choose to ignore the tears that aren’t really pooling in my eyes, knowing that one day soon, Saul might just let me go.

  “What was that?” Eric questions, and my gaze moves from following Soph’s retreating form to looking back at my friend. Someone I haven’t seen for eight long months, and someone who dropped everything to come back here the minute I called and said I needed him. Stepping forward, I grab Eric, slapping him on the back.

  I need them all.

  I can’t fight this battle on my own anymore. I’ve tried, and I’ve also failed. Soph is beyond my reach these days, she moves in different circles than me. That is, she moves in her own circles, completely on her own, keeping everyone at an arm’s length, even me. I’m not too proud to admit when I need some help, and I’ll do anything not to lose her, no matter what that might be. Besides, that’s what family is for. It’s something I’ve learnt over the years… we all have.

  I take one more glance back up the stairs, and as soon as I hear the sound of the shower coming to life, I gesture back to the breakfast bar, and both Eric and I take seats.

  “Everything fell apart when we lost the boys,” I tell him.

  Eric, unusual for him, remains quiet. He had copious phone calls with Soph during that time, and she also regularly spoke to Pea and Libby. They all knew how she’d fallen in love with our sons before they were ripped away from us.

  “She lost something that day, Eric. I don’t know how to explain it. She’s always been so strong. You know that as much as me.” I shake my head as I expel the frustration and sadness through grinding my teeth. “I’ve watched her change, and what’s worse is that I’ve been unable to do anything to stop it. Every day she’s pulled further and further away, building up walls that were never there before. And now I’m left with a hole in my life, one that was filled by Soph.” I catch my breath as pain slices through my heart. “Obviously it’s a hole that’s huge, and nothing can refill it. Only her.” I stop talking as I swallow down an unease that’s forming.

  “Let me have a few days with her, see if I can dig down and find out where her head is at,” he tells me.

  I nod my reply, then add, “That’s good. Thanks Eric. But just keep in mind that the others will arrive any day so I’m not sure how much alone time you’ll actually have.”

  “Fear not Saul-e-licious,” he says, lightening the tone by elongating my name with an endearment only Eric would offer and adding a grin. It should soothe me, or at the least make me smile. It does neither.

  “I have a photoshoot. You have four days before I’m back—”

  “She doesn’t go with you anymore?” he cut’s me off, a squeak of surprise in his voice.

  “She hasn’t for the past six months,” I reply.

  His eyes are wide, and his mouth hangs open. I should grin at the fact that Eric has no response. Normally I would, but lately I’m finding my emotional responses are lacking. Any emotion. I’m starting to feel cold, switched off, and hollow. His response isn’t unexpected. Eric knows that over the years Soph has accompanied me on every shoot, outside of the times she’s been poorly or had to work. Then, five years ago she gave up dancing and so we spent even more of our time together, and that’s when we made the push to adopt. For many years we fostered, it was a choice, the right one at the time, wanting to help children and their parents at times when they often couldn’t help themselves. Starting out the process of fostering, we, like many, went into it with the idea that all children were abused. Bad parents created bad environments and homes that children couldn’t live in.

  We were wrong.

  Sometimes you have to look beneath the surface to really understand the big wide world, and more than that, you have to question yourself, remove all judgement and most importantly, have empathy.

  We met children of all ages, newborn babies right through to young adults. Each one had a different story, and they weren’t always horrific.

  We had one little girl, Alina, she was eight and a refugee. Her parents had come from a war-torn country, and they were seeking asylum. However, somewhere on their travels they had been separated, and while the authorities searched for Alina’s parents, she needed fostering.

  Another child, Fraser, was an orphan. His mum had been a single parent. Then, one day, while travelling to her job as a library assistant—which she worked at while Fraser was at school—she stepped off the bus and started to cross the street. She never saw the car going too fast on the other side of the road, or maybe she did, either way it didn’t change the outcome. That was it, no more parents for Fraser. We wondered for a while, whether we might be allowed to adopt him. But luckily for Fraser, his grandmother came forward—his mum’s mother. She had been visiting her sister in Cyprus for two weeks, and as soon as she was informed of the situation, she hopped on a plane and rushed back to the UK, back to her only grandchild so they could mourn together.

  Everyone has a story. Every story is different. Never judge a situation until you’ve taken the time to read the story.

  Of course, the day came that both Soph and I silently always knew would. One where fostering wasn’t enough anymore. Soph was also getting older, and although she was in no way old, dancing for her was starting to change. It was becoming an enjoyment, a hobby, rather than a job. The chances of beating out the younger women were dwindling and so, through her own decision, she sat with me one day and said she wanted to hang up her shoes—so to speak—but that she’d been thinking for a while about adoption.

  I had the biggest smile all week after our conversation. With age, you’re sometimes granted wisdom, and I know that good times aren’t ten a penny, they must be savoured, treated as though delicate and precious. Because sometimes, as you bask in the happiness, you forget that something could be waiting around the very next turn, waiting to turn your world upside down.

  We had no idea how hard adoption could be. We heard things about the arguments and hardships, emotion and devastation that couples go through when trying for a baby and not getting pregnant. Nobody really talked us through the pain you feel when chance after chance of being a parent is snatched away from you. It hardens you, builds your walls, your defences, and if you’re not careful, it will cause you to be devoid of emotion, bottling everything up because you’re too scared to feel anymore.

  I should have talked to her, explained that I felt this way, and tried to make her see we were in this together.

  I didn’t.

  I mourned silently.

  I worried silently.

  Then I accepted. Alone.

  I think that’s when she gave up.

  I turn my attention back to Eric and move from the kitchen to the living room, grabbing the bag I had ready.

  “Four days, Eric. I’ll be back Sunday morning. Stay with her, do what you can. I’ll text and let you know when the others are going to turn up.”

  Eric only nods, which concerns me even more. He isn’t a man of few words, so him not saying anything is setting my teeth on edge. I power through, giving him a chin lift before walking out. I should have said goodbye to Soph. I should have kissed her. Held her. Told her she’s still my whole world. There are a lot of things that I should have done over the last few months.

  Hindsight is a reckless bastard.

  I hear the door slam shut, and I feel bile rise up my throat. I didn’t want to be around him downstairs, but I’m still gutted that he’s gone. It’s like we’re ro
ommates these days, and not comfortable ones. I barely see him.

  Wiping the condensation from the mirror, I stare at myself. The shower did nothing to clear the indecision I see in my eyes every day. It’s like a grime that I can’t wash away, invisible to all but the bearer, which means it’s a constant reminder that I’m no longer brave, I’m just a failure now. I broke free of my mother, of Patrick, and for what? To be alone? To be sad for the rest of my days? That’s the way I’m headed, and yet although I know this, I can’t seem to stop getting in my own way.

  “He’s gone, you know.” I hear Eric’s snap of anger through the closed door.

  Leaning forward I allow my forehead to rest against the mirror, closing my eyes so I don’t have to look at myself anymore.

  “I know,” I reply, in a strained voice. Even to my own ears, I can hear the fear and confusion I feel in my gut.

  “You better have a good reason for all this shit, lady,” Eric tells me, the anger calmed but there’s agitation in his voice now.

  “I don’t,” I answer truthfully.

  “You don’t?” His reply is teamed with a rattle on the doorknob as he tries to come in. All the years I spent with Eric modelling, he knows I have no physical secrets from him. I grit my teeth, wrap my towel tighter and turn around, unlocking the door, permitting him to enter. He doesn’t come in. Instead, he stands in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “You care to explain this shit to me, missy?”

  I sink down onto the closed lid of the toilet. “What’s going on? Why are you here?” I question, picking at my nails so I don’t have to meet his eyes.

  “Nuh-uh, you first.”

  I slump, my shoulders caving in, but don’t reply.

  Eric sighs. “I’m here because your husband is a good man,” he snaps. “Because he loves you,” he says no less annoyed. Then he stops, seemingly to gather some kind of internal patience. Knowing Eric, he probably wants to bitch slap me. “Because he can’t reach you. And he’s hoping, if he can’t, then someone else can.” This last part is almost a whisper, I can even hear a thin layer of pain in his voice. I seem to be able to hurt everyone I love, just by being me. “Do you realise how hard it is for a man like Saul?” he questions quietly but still harshly.