Page 26 of Everything After (Everything Trilogy)

LILY

Rick and Lennie’s visit had to rank as two of the most uncomfortable hours of my life. My heart had been in my mouth from the moment I’d known Alfie was coming back. Once he’d shown up, he’d struggled to keep his irritable temper in check.

The atmosphere in the room shifted the second I met his gaze. At first, I barely reacted when he’d come into view. It was as if my brain suddenly froze, but aware that our guests were watching, I did manage a weak smile.

I wasn’t prepared for what happened next, when Alfie had taken my face in his hands and pressed a long kiss to my forehead.

The feel of his lips on my skin made flames of desire course through every pore.

Whether we had discord or not, when I’d heard him breathe me in, his intimate reaction to being near me made my heart leap excitedly, setting my betraying body alight.

I never thought I’d ever feel relieved to see Alfie leave me again. But by the time he’d left to take the boys back to the mainland, I was almost a nervous wreck.

Once he’d gone, my relief quickly turned to anguish again, thinking he might change his mind once he’d flown them back, and would decide to stay there.

Comforted by the immediate counterargument that went on in my head, I believed that Alfie would never leave me out to dry like that.

A thought I internally debated again once I’d remembered the roller coaster of uncertainty I lived during my student days with him.

That had been a hideous time, full of insecurities about us that I’d hoped never to experience again.

However, for the past couple of weeks, Alfie had cast doubts between us which had made me ask myself whether the break he had insisted on taking was really a ruse for not wanting to be with me anymore.

Jack and Elle’s scathing revelations came as a stark warning that if Alfie had tired of me, I only had myself to blame.

Since Alfie had been gone, I’d had plenty of time to think.

And most of the time those thoughts instilled sensations of anguish, despair, panic and desperation that I might lose him.

But I’ll admit there were times when those emotions had been fueled by my frustration, confusion and ignorance about where and how I had gone so wrong.

Relief was immediately replaced with anticipation again when I heard the whirl of the rotors as Alfie’s helicopter landed. For a few seconds the ache in my chest eased but the pain inside returned when I took in his stride.

Gone was the self-assured, walk-with-purpose stride and pace Alfie usually demonstrated that he carried himself with.

Instead, his eyes were focused on his feet, his shoulders hunched, and his hands stuffed deep into his leather jacket pockets while he trudged slowly toward the house.

He looked like I felt, filled with dread about the discussion we were about to have.

Since his call, every nerve within me had been strung out, and my body felt tight from tension of what his talk might contain. And as I’d watched his slow, reluctant progress toward our home, I’d wondered if he had come to tell me we were over.

A wave of hysteria gripped me, the shock from that thought almost tore my heart in two as I stood at the window and blinked fast to stem back my tears. My crushed soul told me I loved him with everything in me, and that I couldn’t bear to be without him.

To hold my emotions together, I busied myself by making us hot drinks. The coffee was decaffeinated, not that I had gotten much sleep lately anyway.

Instead of coming into the kitchen, Alfie went downstairs to our music studio and came back up a few minutes later, with his old battered, acoustic guitar, the one he’d been playing on the day I’d first met him.

Pain on another level gripped my chest because seeing him hold his guitar told me he wouldn’t be staying, and when he went, he’d be taking his sentimental possession with him.

Instantly, I thought life was unfair. I was carrying a baby he longed for, one that wasn’t planned, a baby I didn’t feel ready for, and his guitar appeared more important than fixing us.

“Is that what you came back for?” I asked. My tone sounded irrational, but it was a reasonable question, knowing the guitar was a gift from his parents before they had died.

“No, it isn’t. But I’ve used this to write every song I’ve ever written. I’d prefer to have it with me… just in case.”

“Right… just in case you don’t come back, and you need it to write your breakup songs,” I muttered. I’d wanted to scream at him for his indifference but the look of contempt in his eyes helped me to keep my emotions in check. “So, you wanted to talk,” I remarked bluntly.

“I think we’ve both had some time to reflect on our lives, don’t you?” I nodded. “Want to tell me how you feel?” he asked.

“Lost,” I mumbled, placed his coffee cup on the countertop and sat down next to mine.

“Want to expand on that?” he suggested as he peeled off his leather jacket, wandered over and placed it neatly over a kitchen chair at the small table we used to have breakfast together at.

Turning to face me, he left a stool between us before he sat down. His eyes narrowed when I’d failed to reply. I gathered my scattered thoughts as he sat in silence and waited for me to speak.

I shrugged. “Have you ever been lost for words? Lost how to fix things, like I’ve lost my heart—my soulmate?

So…” I glanced up at him with an aching heart and swallowed back tears.

Hope entered my soul when I recognized love shining back at me in his beautiful hazel eyes, despite our situation. I shrugged again. “So… just… lost.”

He nodded in agreement. “That’s encouraging,” he muttered.

“Encouraging?” I repeated, that shard of hope fading the instant I heard that word. “I’m glad you’re pleased that I feel like this.”

“It’s better than feeling indifferent,” he muttered flatly.

“I have never been indifferent about you,” I snapped, the indignance of the accusation immediately wounding me. “Look at all that we’ve been through, and we’re still together,” I argued.

“Are we?” he probed, his eyes narrowing.

A jolt of electricity ran through me. The shockwave made my heart pound wildly, sending pins and needles coursing through me until I felt dizzy.

“Are you here to tell me we’re not?” I asked, fear gripping me until I felt sure I’d pass out if he told me he wasn’t coming back.

“Why haven’t you told your bandmates about us?” he asked without answering my question. I could have said because voicing that you’d left me would make our situation real, and I hadn’t wanted to face that you thought I’d failed us.

I shrugged again instead because I had no clue what he wanted to hear. From the dark look in his eyes and the deep frown creasing his brow, I doubted anything I said would have changed what he believed to be the reason.

“Don’t have an answer or don’t want to say?” he accused.

“I’ve been more focused on how to show you how much you mean to me.”

“Okay, show me,” he prompted sternly, his shoulders tensing like they had during Rick and Lennie’s visit.

“What do you want me to do? Leave the band?” I asked in desperation.

Alfie’s brow raised in interest. “Would you?”

“To keep you, of course,” I answered without hesitation. But if he continued to live his dream and I’d given up mine, I’d resent him for making me choose.

“I think you know me well enough not to pose that question, Lily. I’d never separate you from something that makes you whole.”

“Then I don’t know what else to do,” I answered in all honesty.

“I love you. But I’m not prepared to lose who I am or what I need anymore to keep you,” he replied.

“It sounds like you want me but want the freedom to do what you want at the same time.”

Alfie swiveled on his stool to face me, took my face in his hands, and the weight of pain in his eyes slayed me. A lump of sadness grew in my throat again as I stared into the loving eyes of the only man who had ever held my heart.

When I swallowed roughly, Alfie’s eyes dropped briefly to my mouth, and he drew my head toward him.

For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me.

Then, as if he changed his mind, he pressed his lips to my temple and whispered, “It doesn’t mean I want freedom, it means I need more.

I want the woman who’s with me to need me as much as I need her. ”

“I do need you,” I protested wholeheartedly, pulling back to look at him. “I miss you every day that we aren’t together.”

“That’s a lot of ‘missing each other’,” he argued.

“Do you know how many days we’ve spent together in the past eighteen months?

” I shook my head. “Sixty-six. Yeah, I counted. Do you know how many days there have been in the past eighteen months?” I shook my head again.

“Five hundred and forty-seven. Let me save you the math, we’ve spent twelve percent of those days together.

That other eighty-eight percent has slowly been killing me. ”

“It can’t be so few days,” I argued.

“Those days together might have been enough for you not to notice, Lily, but they’ve not been nearly enough for me.”