The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3) (31 page)

The vibrancy and chaotic flailing of arms is evidence enough that the alcohol has continued to flow and the room feels fit to burst with happiness. It is timely and distracting and I quickly find myself jumping and shaking some dubious shapes to the belting sounds of Pink’s
True Love.
Pip and Fia throw their arms around me and we jump together singing at the top of our lungs ‘
I hate you, I really hate you, I want to wrap my hands around your neck.
. . .
So much I think it must be True Love
. . . ’ Glad the DJ has the music so loud our tuneless voices can’t be heard but it doesn’t take a whole lot of lip reading for Daniel to know what I am singing right at him. He pulls me away and holds me tight against his strong body resting his head on mine and slowing my moves to sway with his, ignoring the thumping beats the crowd is dancing to. The blend and mix of love songs begins to seep into my conscious despite the remix and up-beat tempos and when Ellie Goulding’s
Figure 8
lyrics filter in ‘
I need you more than I can take, you promised forever and a day and then you take it all away,
” I have to fight with all my strength to push from his hold. I break free, stumble back as my eyes blur and I turn and run for the door unable to breathe, pushing passed the guests, remaining family and waiting staff. So desperate for air I almost collapse as I cling to the pillar just outside the main doors.

I feel him before I hear his steady steps close in behind me and I shake my head and draw in a deep healing breath but it’s useless. I know I’m broken because I can’t stop the fucking tears from free falling. My breath stutters as I try to speak. “This is brutal.” I push out a sharp breath of utter desolation as I turn to face the man I broke and the man who chooses to break me. This is so fucked up. “I know we can’t all have the fairy tale ending but that doesn’t stop me wanting one wish.” He steps closer but doesn’t reach out to touch me even though I can see his fingers move with residual memory of that connection. I tilt my head to meet his beautiful eyes unashamed that mine are unable to contain their sadness a moment longer.

“What would you wish?” His voice is tentative; I have never heard it quite like that before now. I let out a sad laugh but I am surprised he asked given how ridged his body is, how uncomfortable I am making him right now.

“Groundhog Day.” My voice falters again but he nods in understanding but I still want to explain. “You know in the film Bill Murray spends all his time learning new stuff, playing the piano, learning to make ice sculptures, saving lives, that sort of thing.” I hiccup and suck back, muffling the sobs so I don’t sound as desperate as I feel. “I wish today was my Groundhog Day but I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single thing.” Silence falls for endless seconds before he breaks it.

“Thank you for today Bethany. I will cherish the memory.” His soft quiet words so filled with finality. I have to hold my mouth to stop the heart wrenching cry just waiting to escape and embarrass us both. But the sheer panic consumes me and my heart beats a deafening tattoo so loud that I think I will have to shout out to be heard.

“Daniel . . . I . . . I . . . I am so sorry. You must know . . . I’m so sorry.” I fail to keep the genuine fear from my voice.

“I am sorry too.” The quiet in his voice does nothing but send an eerie chill up my spine. His face is blank of any emotion. His lips are tight and I can see him start to pull away, I grab his hand and hold it in both of mine.

“Daniel, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry but its midnight so what’s actually changed, it’s still just you and me. You’re here with me . . . Can’t we? . . .” My mind is messed up, frantic for the right words. Any words that will make him change his mind. He has to change his mind, my question sounds like a pitiful plea. “What’s changed?” I don’t actually finish this question because he interrupts and rips my heart from my chest, throws it on the ground and drives his pristine dress shoes into the mass of lifeless muscle.

“Angel is pregnant.” His voice is hushed; his jaw ticks but there are no words left. I have no words and I have nothing left to stop my tears from drenching my face and drowning my soul. His voice so quiet I strain to hear. “I’m sorry you were wrong.” I can see his eyes through my haze and I believe he is sorry. Maybe he is sorry I was wrong, maybe he is sorry he was right but everything has changed. My knees buckle but just as Daniel steps to catch me he is pushed aside. Marco swoops and scoops me against his body, his older brother Anthony flanking him and his father just behind them.

“I think it’s time you left.” I have never heard that tone from Marco before and Daniel wisely holds his hands up in retreat and starts to step away from the carnage. Just before he turns I call out.

“Daniel!” My voice is raw; the pain expressed is reflected in his face, for once an open book of absolute ruin. “I hope I continue to be wrong because you don’t deserve that life if I’m right.”

“You can’t help yourself can you?” He shakes his head in frustration or maybe its resignation.

“Not when it comes to you.” He has already walked away so I don’t think he hears my whispered words but Marco does and he huffs with indignation. But he stops his judgemental tirade when he sees my face because you would have to a callous arsehole to kick me now and he’s not an arsehole, he’s my friend.

I HAVEN’T SLEPT.
I didn’t want to dream. I have lay naked in my bed going over every moment of the day in every possible detail. Closing my eyes tightly to hold the memory a little longer, each glance, each touch and each heartbeat I shared with him. It’s been a long, painful, wonderful perfect night of pure hell. I can feel him on my skin, under my skin and every part of me
feels
because of him. But from this moment I have to start the unbearable process of letting go and endure, as each vibrant nerve ignited by him fizzles and dies. I know it will take more than the day I am allowing myself to wallow in self-pity, I know it will take longer than forever. Even though he wasn’t my first love he was my true love and I know I will never get over that. I knew I would never survive Daniel Stone but I fell all the same. Today, I feel battered, bruised but alive and alive I feel too much. Too much pain, too much sorrow, just too much. I yearn for the welcome return of the inevitable numbness.

I know it’s gross but as I drag my sorry arse out of bed and gaze at my puffy face and red swollen eyes I still can’t bring myself to wash my skin of his scent. I do rinse the dried sting of tears with a splash of ice cold water and pat my face with a soft towel. I look, at least, a little more human even if I feel nothing. I notice Marco’s rucksack is all packed and leaning stuffed to bursting against the hall table and as I wander in a trance like state into the kitchen I think that I should start my own packing. I have an open ended train ticket to cover most of Europe and some ideas but nothing fixed about exploring further afield because I would really prefer having a little company for that part of my travels. I pour myself a herbal ginger tea and just as I am thinking about calling Ethan to talk through my plans my phone starts to vibrate on the counter. My heart jumps and a rush of nerves tingle and flare. My hope still in denial of my reality, but it dies just as quickly as it was raised when I don’t recognise the number the text message is from. Ethan has lost his phone and is using a crappy pay as you go, could I meet him at his flat to catch up. I can’t quite manage a smile but I do feel better now I actually have a plan for today and after seeing Ethan I should a sufficient ‘to do list’ to keep me busy and or at least distracted, until I leave.

Ethan’s apartment is just back from the river Thames. A modern development of around fifty flats and from speaking to Tom I understand that I have one of the flats just waiting for me to move into but I can’t think about that now. Maybe when the baby is born and Marco has had enough of sleepless nights, maybe then but that’s what I will use my time away to think through properly. I walk over the Chelsea bridge and realise I must have walked passed Ethan’s building every day on my way to work during my brief period as an intern. I just didn’t know it at the time. Its late morning and the main revolving doors are open and I walk into a light open white marble foyer, with gleaming chrome and white leather sofas, full glass walls to the front and a small unmanned concierge desk. My soft flat ballet pumps are the only noise to disturb the quite as I squeak my way to the elevators. I press the button below the light displaying Ethan’s name and start to unpick my ear phones. Only then as the door opens, do I wish I’d done that sooner because then as I step back from the vision before me I might’ve heard the footsteps of the large body pressed against my back and tightly gripping the tops of my arms.

“Kit?” I question myself because I know it’s her but I am not wrong to question her appearance here of all places. Daniel had said she was in Paris but why is she in Ethan’s apartment? Does he know her? Does he know she’s my sister? I stand transfixed as question after unanswered question clogs my brain. She looks different too, her clothes are classy and understated. Her hair a soft golden brown falling in long loose curls around her lightly made up face but her eyes are just as clinical, just as cold and the lifeless smile and sneer that spreads across her face is unmistakably the Kit I remember.

“Hello Bethany, always a pleasure but I’d rather not do this in the hallway and we don’t have long before sweet Ethan returns.” She steps back and waves her hand for me to enter. No fucking way am I going in there, even if I do want some answers. I try to shuffle back but find my feet skid for a moment before I am lifted from my feet and walked into the apartment. “Thank you Clive.” I twist to see the no neck ugly scowl and dark features of Clive. His dark dead eyes cause my body to shake uncontrollably as I remember with crystal clarity him trying to force himself inside me, a violent attack I managed to escape. I try to swallow my nerves because I need to remember what Patrick had taught me, I’m not defenceless and I am getting out of here. The instant I feel the pressure ease from Clive’s ape like grip I turn but before I can evade, I feel the hammer impact of his fist slam into the side of my skull and see the flash of white flooring before the blackness, before I hit the floor and I pass out.

The humming in my head is mind numbingly intrusive, pounding through my skull leaving no chance of peace. I try to open my eyes but the pain that shoots through my head causes me to still even this small movement. Everything is screaming in agony and I feel like I have been dragged feet first, down forty flights of stairs with my head cracking each tread. The silence of my surroundings is eerie and it forces me to push through the pain and open my eyes. I know I am lying on a platform, maybe not a bed but certainly not the hard unforgiving surface of the floor I hit before I blacked out. The room ceiling is dark grey and a single old style bulb hangs in the centre giving off a harsh bright light. My right hand is pulled above my head and I look to see the cuff clipped tight around my wrist and the small chain attached to the cuff is fixed at the other end to a metal box where the chain disappears. The box is fixed to the bar on the wall effectively securing me to this spot. I shuffle up the platform and notice the sheet covering the platform is clean and there is a blanket folded neatly over the end, it may not be comfortable but this is definitely supposed to be a bed, my bed.