Page 64 of Hearts Colliding
“What gives you the right to say that to me? You have no idea, no fucking idea.”
“I didn’t mean it like—”
“No. I don’t want to see you or hear from you again. Do you understand? Take your delusions, Ryan, and get out. Now.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
Alex stared into the gloom. He didn't know how long he'd been hunched up on the sofa, sitting amidst the wreckage. When Ryan had left, with devastation in his eyes, the sun had been shining.
A whining noise, which sounded too much like crying, caught his attention.
"Henry. I'm sorry, boy. I haven't been looking after you very well, have I?” Henry pawed at the sofa and Alex scooped him up. "You're trembling. Are you cold?"
The room, that had always been the warmest and sunniest in the house, was chilly. He hadn’t noticed the temperature drop, just as he hadn’t noticed that the sun was sinking low, making way for the coming darkness. He glanced out of the window, towards the sea. Heavy grey clouds sat on the horizon. Autumn was coming, chasing summer away.
He carried Henry out to the kitchen, but the feed he put down held no interest for the dog. Nor did the treat, earning barely a sniff, as Henry clamoured to be picked up again.
"Can't do this for too long, boy.” With Henry whimpering in his arms, he made his way back to the drawing room. “Look at this mess. I’ve still got bags and boxes to pack. We're going home, and the sooner the better.”
Home. Alex slumped down onto the sofa just as Ryan had earlier. His heart squeezed. The purple and red bruising and the puffy skin hadn't been enough to disguise the piercing blue of Ryan’s eyes. Alex rubbed his face against Henry’s fur, breathing him in deep, seeking out a hint of Ryan's scent on the dog.
He'd ached to pull Ryan into him to try, somehow, to heal the hurt. But he hadn't. He hadn't done anything, because he'd been too angry, too humiliated, too paralysed by the fear he'd been made a fool of. So he’d done what he’d done for so many years and taken the easy option of hiding behind a wall of icy indifference. His stomach turned, and he hugged Henry harder. Ryan had never made him feel stupid, or humiliated. He'd only ever made him feel wanted and desired. His breath caught in his throat. Oh, Christ, Ryan had made him feel—
His mobile phone, buried deep in his pocket, rang. Alex’s heart jolted. A rising hope he didn’t, absolutely didn’t want to feel, made him fumble as he pulled it out. His heart fell. Not Ryan, but Brendan, his senior architect.
“Brendan.”
“Alex, we've got it.” Excitement vibrated through the architect’s voice. “We've got the planning permission.”
"What? Already?” Alex sat up straight. “The application's not being considered until September.”
"They added in another meeting. They’ve not even demanded any amendments, which is a first. I’ve only just got off the phone from them. Official confirmation’s in the post, as they say. But we’re free to get going with converting the New House and the outbuildings, on all the new housing and the retail units. We’re free to do it all, we can…”
Brendan's voice disappeared in a storm of static. The decision had been made in his favour, just as he knew it would be. He’d got everything he'd come back for. Everything had played out just how he'd wanted it to. Alex rubbed his temple, at the hard, throbbing ache.
"What about the objections?" Silence replaced the static.
"What? Why does it matter? All their arguments opposing the scheme were deemed insufficient. I mean, this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? And now you have it. You've won, Alex. You've won.”
* * *
Dusk had given way to night. The packing, along with the rush to escape the house and all the twisted, confused emotions that’d tied him in knots from the moment he'd come back, it was all forgotten as Brendan's words resounded through him.You’ve won, Alex. You've won…
Then why didn't it feel like that? Why did it feel like he’d damn well lost?
His mobile rang, but he cut the call; he didn’t want to speak to Brendan again, to hear the excitement in his architect’s voice, so eager to get everything moving. Alex's lips twisted in a humourless smile. First the bonus to get the plans drawn up and submitted in double quick time, and another for getting the project moving once the green light was given. The go light was well and truly flashing, so what was he waiting for? After all, he'd got what he'd wanted. Just as Brendan had said, he’d won.
He got up and switched on the lights. The room looked like it'd been ransacked. But, it wasn't the half packed boxes, or his clothes in a pile on a chair, ready to put in the suitcase that held his attention. It was the rug, in front of the fire, where he and Ryan had so often made a makeshift bed. Kissing, touching, talking. Making love. Just the two of them, the world and all its problems and stresses, left outside, the door locked against them.
Alex and Ryan. Ryan and Alex. Nobody else, nothing else, had mattered. But they'd been deluding themselves, because the world outside the door did matter, whatever they'd persuaded themselves to believe. He shook his head. Hadn’t he had this argument with Ryan, about the make believe they’d wound around themselves? Whatever they’d been, it was over and time to step back into the real world.
He’d finish the packing and phone his PA to contact the removal company to come and collect it all. By tomorrow afternoon he’d be home, his time in the house and Love's Harbour over for good. Everything he’d come back for had been achieved. The New House would be consigned to history, and the official go-ahead would make sure it happened.
"Ready to go home tomorrow, Henry?" His dog stared at him dolefully from his cushion in the corner of the room, before burying his snout between his front paws.
Just think about getting sorted…He picked up a pile of bedding, but it was the stacked up photographs, on the shelf and ready to be boxed up, which snagged his attention. He chewed down on his lower lip. They were a kind of comfort blanket, something that was always there, but when was the last time he’d really looked at them?
Abandoning the bedding, he picked them up, each one separated from the next by a thin piece of velvet. All thoughts of finishing the packing melted away as he took them back to the sofa.
