Page 39 of Charlie Sunshine (Close Proximity #2)

“But nothing. You’re more important than anyone. I want you feeling okay, and you never do after a turn. You can come to the reception later.”

“Not so important that you can think of a song,” I mutter and push the duvet back.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I grumble, unsure who the crosspatch is who’s inhabiting my body at the moment.

He steps back and holds up his hands. “Okay, grumpypants, I’m going to start the shower. We’ll shower together this morning if that’s okay. You still look a bit out of it.”

“How sexy,” I huff and take myself off to the bathroom, feeling my mood wobble a bit more when I see that he’s laid my medication out on the counter with another glass of water.

With other boyfriends, I’d have been charmed by this evidence of care, but now it’s Misha, and I just want to scream.

Confident, charming Misha who could have anyone and definitely a bloke who won’t have to take medication for the rest of his life.

I swallow down the confused rage and take the tablets, forcing a smile for him .

I make the smile stay there while we shower together, and he washes my hair tenderly as I lean against him.

I want to be Charlie Sunshine for him. I’ve done it for all my other boyfriends, and as I love him so much more than anyone, I need to do it better for him.

I want him to have fun with me, not be bogged down by everything.

So, I plaster a smile on and hug him as he rinses my hair.

My smile falters slightly when he fastens my epilepsy bracelet over my wrist and lifts my wrist, kissing the veins softly. I want to at once throw myself into his arms and also drag my hand away from his and lock myself in the bedroom until I can get my thoughts clear.

Unfortunately, there’s no chance of doing that as we have to leave for the wedding. This day does not have a good feel to it.

The wedding is beautiful. It’s held in a small South London church, and I watch with tears in my eyes as Misha leads his mum down the aisle towards her new husband.

Misha looks wonderful in his morning suit, the striped trousers clinging to the long muscles in his legs and the grey frock coat emphasising the width of his shoulders.

But it’s his expression that captures most of my attention.

Proud and calm and with a faint echo of piss-taking.

It’s in the tilt of his lips and those blue eyes.

Like he’s laughing inside at some joke that nobody else can hear.

He shoots me a sudden look as they walk past and drops me a wink, and I feel my spirits rise. Maybe I can hear the joke too.

The reception is being held at a small boutique hotel in Kensington, and the food is gorgeous, although I pick at mine.

I typically feel low-level nausea after a turn, and today is no exception.

My stomach roils, and admitting defeat on the dessert, I put my spoon and fork down.

Luckily, Misha is at the family top table and can’t see how little I’ve eaten, so I won’t get a lecture.

I look around the table where I’m seated.

It’s filled with three couples who I think are related to Jim, Jackie’s new husband.

After introductions were made, they’ve mostly occupied themselves by talking together.

I was supposed to be sitting with Aidan, as my dad is at a university function, but Aidan had an emergency come up at work and will be here later.

I don’t mind. I can’t find much conversation in me.

If I opened my mouth, I’d probably beg to lie down, so it’s best all-round that I don’t.

My attention is raised when one of the women says Misha’s name. I glance up to see two of my tablemates staring at the top table. “That’s Jackie’s son,” one of the women, a redhead, says. “He’s very handsome.”

The other woman shrugs, her dark hair starting to slip out of its updo. “Not surprising. Jackie’s pretty, and have you seen the girls?”

The redhead nods. “Their father must have been something,” she muses. “Judging by the son.” She laughs, a light tinkling sound that irritates me even though laughter usually makes me smile. “Adam’s mesmerised, anyway.”

I frown as I notice Misha is in deep conversation with the man who’s been sitting next to him for the meal.

He’s a good-looking man in his mid-twenties with longish dark hair and a light tan.

I think he’s some relation of Jim’s. Maybe a nephew.

Whoever he is, he’s obviously very interested in what Misha has to say, leaning forward far too close and laughing a lot.

I swallow. I know the look on Misha’s face. I’ve seen it many times in our past.

The dark-haired lady’s voice intrudes. “He’s a good speaker anyway. His speech was very funny.”

I smile because it had been a lovely speech. Very typical Misha. He’s entirely at ease about speaking in public, and, while toasting his mum and Jim, he’d been wry, yet still warm and affectionate.

The redhead chuckles. “Made me laugh, that bit about laying down his responsibilities now that Jim has entered the family. I expect it’s a relief for him after looking after his mum and sisters for so long.”

The other woman looks towards the table again. “Well, if Adam has anything to do with it, he won’t be alone tonight.” She shrugs. “Adam’s a good catch for Misha. He’s got a good job in the city. I think he just came back from Barcelona.”

My smile dies as I look up at the table where Misha is laughing at something this “good catch” has said. A waiter delivers two shots to them, and I watch wistfully as they grin and throw them down. He can’t do that with me. I’ll never be able to drink again .

His words from the speech ring in my ears—the ones about laying down responsibilities—and suddenly my dark mood from earlier descends, landing on my shoulders with a heavy weight.

What on earth is Misha doing with me? I could possibly be the biggest responsibility he’s ever had, and he’s jumping right in without a second thought.

I look at Adam again. He’s dressed expensively, and he wears the same look of effortless confidence that Misha does. He’s just back from Barcelona. The only place I’ve just got back from is Southwark Public Library.

I realise that I’ve got to my feet when the chair makes a squealing noise, and conversation at the table stops.

“Sorry,” I say, running my hand through my hair and feeling strands dislodge from my ponytail.

“Just nipping out for a second.” They smile nicely and go back to their conversations, and I scarper.

I’m making my way to the bathrooms off the reception area when I hear Misha call my name. For an instant, I actually consider bolting, but I make myself stand still and wait for him to catch up.

“You alright, Charlie?” he asks.

I nod quickly. “I’m fine. Why?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. You got up quickly, and I was concerned.”

I sigh. This is what I’m worried about right here. “Why were you concerned? Because of the epilepsy?”

He looks closely at me. “Of course. You had a turn earlier, and you’re not quite right today.”

“ Today ? I’m potentially not quite right any day of the week, Misha.”

My voice is too loud, and I flush as I see a few people in the lobby turn round. He must think the same, because he grabs my arm gently and steers me into a small room filled with comfy seating. It’s blessedly empty.

“Okay, what’s the matter?” He folds his arms over his chest. “And I know something is.”

I shrug and lean against a leather sofa. “Nothing’s wrong,” I say soothingly, desperately wanting him to go back to the reception so we don’t say words I already know we’re going to regret. By the irritated look on his face, I think it’s too late.

“Don’t bullshit me, Charlie.”

The words are sharp, and any thought of shutting up leaves me. “I liked your speech.”

He looks flabbergasted. “Erm, thank you.”

I nod. “I liked the talk of abdicating all responsibilities from now on. That was nice.”

He looks as if he’s walking through a field full of unexploded bombs. “And yet I’m sensing that you are somehow pissed off with that, Charlie.”

“Not pissed off,” I deny automatically. He shoots me an unimpressed look, and I raise my hands helplessly. “Just wondering why you can’t see it, that’s all.”

He straightens. “See what?”

“This. You and me,” I say. My lousy mood of earlier has managed to slip its lead, and now I’m full-on cross. “Look very clearly at us, Misha, because I don’t think you’re doing that at the moment.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me, Charlie, because you seem to have such a lot of things to say. Such a lot of suddenly loud things to say.”

I breathe in sharply. “You haven’t given up all your responsibilities.” He stares at me. “I mean, there’s still me.”

“ What ?”

The words pour out of me. “I’m one of those responsibilities. Probably the biggest one. I mean, just look at me. I’m still having seizures.”

“Turns.”

I laugh. “It doesn’t bloody matter. Call them tumble dryers if you want, Misha. They’re seizures, and I’m at the risk of having them every day for the rest of my life.”

“I know that,” he says softly.

“Do you? Really ? It’s a different knowledge from when we were just friends. Then you could walk away when you wanted. You could zip off and fuck your flavour of the evening. Now, you’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t ever say I’m stuck with you again,” he says furiously. “I won’t have you talk about yourself like that.”

“But you are,” I say passionately. “You are stuck with a man who has a lifelong condition that could get worse. And one day if the meds stop working, I could end up having surgery and then what? You know the risks attached to that. We looked at them together.”

“We did, and I seem to recall that the surgery has worked very well for people.”

“It has.” I nod wildly. “But in other people, it’s resulted in some personality changes.

Is that what you want, Misha? Do you want to end up with someone different from the original person you took on?

Do you want to be looking after me for the rest of your life putting out my tablets every day and fastening my medi bracelet? ”

He’s gone very white. “Why would you bother asking?” he says through thin lips. “When you’ve already decided what my feelings are on the matter.”

“You could have someone better, Misha.”

“ Who ?” The word is an explosion of sound. “Who is better than you?”

“Well, Adam, for a start.”

He looks confused. “Who?”

“Adam, the beautiful man sitting next to you at the table. He’s been practically in your lap over dessert. Surely you remember?”

His expression clears slightly, and he steps closer. “Charlie, are you jealous?”

“Fuck off.” I raise my finger at him, my hand shaking.

“Don’t make a joke out of this. The fact is that you can have someone else easily.

Someone who won’t have seizures, someone who can have a cocktail or a shot at a wedding reception.

Someone like him. He doesn’t have any problems. He’s all shiny hair and an expensive suit. ”

“Well, I’m so glad you can gauge that from just his clothes.

Such an under-appreciated talent you’ve got.

Like water divining, but with Hugo Boss instead.

” The words are light, but his voice is full of anger, and when I look closely, I can see the rage in his eyes.

He stops and takes a deep breath, and when he speaks next, his words are icy cold, and they make me flinch.

“Still, it’s nice that you’ve made up my mind for me, Charlie.

Because I’m such a fucking idiot lightweight, I’d better stick to my own kind.

God forbid that I should want more. You’ve actually made your real opinion of me very clear.

I’m obviously not mentally and emotionally capable of sustaining anything that’s even slightly complicated.

” He nods. “Thank you for telling me. You’ve saved me a lot of trouble in the long run. ”

His eyes are filled with hurt and anger and loss. I feel it all deep in my stomach. I’ve never seen Misha like this before, and I hate the fact that I’m the cause of it. All my rage suddenly dies away, leaving me tired and drained. I open my mouth to apologise, but before I can, he steps back.

“You should go home,” he says coldly.

“What?” I say, stunned.

“Go home. Get some rest. I’ll tell my mum that you’re not feeling good. They’re leaving in a few minutes anyway.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the room with the sick feeling that I’ve just destroyed something very precious. With no other choice, I turn and leave the hotel.