Page 70 of The Consequence of You
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ASHER
Christmas was quiet with both my parents and Aurelia away. I dismissed the staff on Christmas Eve and told them to stay off until after the new year when my parents were due to return. The staff deserved a decent break, and they probably hadn’t spent the festive period with their own families for years. They looked thrilled when I told them, but within a few hours, I was regretting it.
A quiet house was not unusual, but I’d never felt more alone. I ordered a meal from my favourite restaurant on Christmas Eve, and heated up the leftovers on Christmas day. Ate it in front of the television, wearing just my dressing gown, and then drank myself into oblivion.
When I woke, it was boxing day, and I reeked of sweat. It was disgusting, and if I had any chance of convincing Callie I was worth fighting for, I realised I needed to dobetter than that, so I had a stern word with myself and took a shower.
After that I went to the nursing home to volunteer for a few hours. They’d told us to take some time off after what happened with Carlo, but that day was beginning to seem like a lifetime ago. I’d called Callie several times this week and every single call had gone unanswered.
At least at the nursing home, there was the slimmest of chances I might see her. She said she wasn’t going back, but I hoped she’d change her mind. Over the next few days, I kept going back, but she never came, and maybe it was utterly misguided, but I told myself it was more about Carlo and Mrs Hughes than her avoiding me.
I threw myself into every activity Susan asked of me, but I mostly spent time with Mr Charles. His dementia was getting worse. The staff at the nursing home had warned me this might happen. Initially I’d only noticed episodes of memory loss and a few issues with mobility but they were becoming more frequent and, on several occasions now, he’d not known who I was when I stopped by.
It’d been eight days now, and every waking moment had been filled with thoughts of the dark-haired woman who was completely and utterly under my skin in a way no one else had ever been. I’d run through every interaction we’d had. Every time she’d avoided a question I’d asked. And the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became she was hiding more than just her feelings from me.
I’d woken up this morning knowing I needed to see her if I was going to understand what that was.
It’s New Year’s Eve and Dahlia and Grayson have invited Callie and me over to their apartment.
I dress and shower before shaving for the first time in days. Changing my outfit more times than a preteen girl going to her first disco, I eventually settle on a green shirt in a similar shade to my eyes.
I’m so fucked. I’ve never cared what a woman thought of my outfit before. Never wanted to impress someone, and yet here we are.
I needn’t have bothered.
Four hours later and I’m at Gray’s, stone-cold sober and disappointed as fuck. She didn’t turn up.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a good time. I always do with my best friend and his girl, but Callie’s absence is obvious. Dahlia confirms she invited her and was under the impression she was coming, but when she’d called her at the beginning of the evening, Callie hadn’t answered. Dahlia sent her a message but had no response. So, I’d third wheeled it all night, only truly losing hope she’d turn up in the last hour.
After the first beer, I switched to water, having consumed more than a healthy amount of alcohol alone in my house over Christmas.
Grayson and Dahlia curl up together on one of the sofas, and my chest physically aches at the sight. I’m happy for them, so fucking happy. I never thought I’d want anything like that, but looking at them now, it’s easy to imagine myself doing the same with Callie. Imagining her hot little body curling into mine. Her stretching her slim legs out, me massaging her smooth calves. Her nails painted in pretty pink or her signature black polish. Me leaning down to tuck her silky hair behind her ear, only for it to fall forward again seconds later. I picture her wide, dark eyes, like deep pools a man could drown in, if only she would let them.
I want it all with her. Why does she have to be so goddamn stubborn. A rueful smile tugs at my lips. She wouldn’t be the woman I love if she wasn’t so fucking strong willed.
My two friends are lost in each other as the TV presenter on the screen next to them begins the countdown to midnight. Stretching my legs, I stand and excuse myself to give my friends some privacy while they see in the New Year.
Sliding open the door of their small balcony, I head outside into the cold air. Leaning on the railing, I cast my eyes over the twinkling lights of the town below us, wondering where the woman I love is right now. I wonder what demons she’s fighting that are stopping her living the life she deserves.
At the stroke of midnight, fireworks begin to fill the sky, and I double down on my resolution to find out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CALLIE
Everywhere in town was busy, but eventually, I’d found a dive where I was sure I wouldn’t bump into anyone I knew. Sitting at the long bar, I throw back another shot of tequila. Slamming the glass down on the sticky surface, I barely register the burn as the cold, honeyed liquid hit my throat. I motion to the barman for another, but he points to the clock above the row of optics behind him. It’s nearly midnight, and as I glance around, I realise the room has emptied out, everyone heading outside to see in the New Year.
Reluctantly, I pull on my jacket and follow them out onto the street. The uneven paving stones glisten under the sparse streetlamps, light rain falling. Leaning against the wall, I unsuccessfully attempt to get some shelter from the overhanging roof.
Everyone shouts in unison,
“Five… Four…Three… Two… One… Happy New Year!”
A loud bang startles me, and I jump. Fireworks from the local park illuminate the sky, a kaleidoscope of bright colour and dazzling light.Each one is noisier and more extravagant than the one before, and before long, the metallic smoky scent of gunpowder fills the air, increasing with every crack and squeal of the rockets. Like a death knell, each thunderous boom punctuates my already shitty mood.
Moving away from the wall, I stumble as I’m jostled by the crowd from the bars hugging each other and shouting New Year greetings. A pretty blonde girl grabs my hand, smiling as she tries to pull me along with her. She’s joyfully singing ‘Auld Lang syne’ with her friends, but I pull my hands away, shoving them in my pockets. I stare after her, my eyes fixed on her hair, which is almost the same colour as Asher’s.
