Page 53 of Maybe
“Of course I do,” she sobbed.
“Not only have you fallen out with Isaac about the booze, but the old man’s dead now. Your life is your own, Janice; you’re still fairly young, loaded, and single. Sort yourself out and the world’s your oyster.”
“I know! But it’s not easy, is it? Giving up?”
“No,” I agreed, “it’s not. But then again, nothing worth having ever is, is it?” I indicated to the vodka, “Booze, drugs, whatever, feels like freedom, like it softens the edges of everything hard in the world. But, trust me, all it does is lead you into even deeper fog.”
I remembered that, when the days blurred together, when everything I’d dreamed of—art college, writing music—became dimmer and less vibrant. I was living through a haze of bad sex and weed and hating myself. I nearly lost Jonty. Carly was goingto stop me seeing him, her dad had already given me more than a few clips round the ear, and so I… reclaimed the life I was meant to live.
“Try, Janice,” I pleaded. In the room next door, Mrs Potts was winding up, and Jonty would be wondering what had happened to his promised sandwich. “Try for Isaac and Saffy and Ed. And for yourself. Otherwise, the old bastard has won, hasn’t he?”
CHAPTER 20
ISAAC
My first shift of the seven-night set was weirdly quiet. At around four a.m, I even squeezed in an hour of revision. I had no idea if any of it would stick, but I’d signed up to re-sit the exam at the next opportunity, and that date was creeping closer. I still wasn’t sure how I’d proceed if I passed, but I sure as hell knew it wasn’t going to defeat me.
More and more, Ezra’s astute observations played on my mind. When I worked in ED, I didn’t miss the operating theatre one bit, whereas Alaric mooched about, lamenting the lack of scalpel in his hand. My father had always been at his best after a day spent saving lives in the operating theatre, too. Far more than the days he spent in his consulting rooms.
Maybe I was a jack of all trades. Maybe Ezra was right. I didn’t owe anyone anything. My career choices were mine to make, and only mine.
But I was still going to pass that fucker of an exam. If I walked away from a glittering career as a cardiac surgeon, it would be on my terms. I wanted to look the Mustard Michael’s of this world in the eye, not skulk about avoiding them.
When I dragged myself home in bright daylight, I found Ezra sitting on the steps leading to my flat, strumming his guitar. God, he was insufferably beautiful. And so poised, so at ease with himself, in a way I’d never managed. My first thought ran to Jonty. “Is there something wrong?”
“No.” Ezra’s dark head lifted at my approach. “Everything is tickety-boo.” He ran his fingers through his gleaming locks, pushing them away from his face. “Especially now you’re here, oh scrumptious, exhausted captain of my heart.”
Idiot.“Oh, okay. Then hello Ezra.”
As he leapt to his feet, the urge to kiss that dangerous smile from his lips was annoyingly strong. “A very good morning to you, dearest Isaac, my sun, my moon, my stars, and my sweet honeybee.” With a sweep of his arm, like a bloody medieval courtier, he gestured the route to the front door as if he’d laid down a red carpet. All two metres of it.
“That was a short week of nights.” I swung my rucksack from my shoulder to withdraw the key from the zipped side pocket. “I could have sworn I’ve only done one.”
“Goodness.” Ezra ignored me. “Let me take that heavy thing for you.” He held out his hand for the bag. “Take that load off your weary shoulders.”
“Last time I checked, empty Tupperware lunchboxes were pretty light. I think I can manage a few steps farther.”
He blocked my path. “That’s not the point, babe. Come on—hand it over.”
Chuntering, I did as he asked. I didn’t have the energy for an undignified doorstep struggle. “Seriously, though. Why are you here? I recall agreeing you were giving me some space.”
As I inserted the key in the lock, Ezra’s warm presence hovered right behind me, so close I could smell his shampoo. Cool breath caressed the back of my neck; sinking into him was way too tempting. I was doomed.
“Um…” For once, Ezra appeared a little sheepish. “I was rude to you. About giving us a lift home from the hospital. I could do better. Being tired and stressed was no excuse.”
“It’s the perfect excuse.” I tutted. If I didn’t know by now how Ezra’s mind worked, then I never would. Pride was written through him like a stick of rock. “Your child had just been in intensive care! And I shouldn’t have presumed.” I waved my hand. “Forget it. I’m chilled.”
Ezra beamed. “Great. In that case, then I’ll also admit to being here ‘cos I missed you.”
His mischievous smile did its thing. I was seconds away from plastering him against the doorframe then and there. But I’d made a promise to myself, and I was going to stick to it. Reining myself in, I headed upstairs. “I have a feeling your idea and my idea oflet’s take things slowaren’t on the same page.”
“Ah, but you didn’t define slow,” Ezra pointed out. “Where was the comparator? Did you mean slower than a tractor? Slower than treacle? As slow as a mid-range electric car?”
“Mine’s pretty fast actually.” I glared at him over my shoulder as he trundled after me up the stairs. “I was thinking more… um…” My sleep-deprived brain wrestled to come up with something terribly sedate, even as I questioned my ability to hold back from grabbing him then and there. “The speed of soil erosion. How about that?”
“Mmm,” Ezra hummed. “Sure, soil moves fairly slowly. But I suppose even that can be quite situational. You know, during a flood, for example. When there’s a landslide. Then it canters along.”
I groaned. My mental agility supplies had been depleted at around five a.m. after an elderly nursing home patient with a broken hip hauled me from my textbooks. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere? Aren’t you a single parent? With single parent responsibilities?”
