Modern Heart: City Love 3 Read online

  Where are you? Maddy rang me. She’s worried about you.

  Shit.

  I typed a reply: A pub. I’m fine. Promise I’ll get a cab home.

  I threw the phone back into my bag and half a glass later it was forgotten.

  *

  “Jesus, Scarlett.”

  I glared at John. Or at least I thought it was a glare. I was finding it hard to focus. The alcohol combined with jet lag was making me sleepy. I’d figured out if I kept my head propped up using one hand I could still drink with the other while watching the flat screen television on the far side of the room.

  “You know her?” The bartender looked between John and me.

  Aww, how nice. He was watching out for me and making sure I wasn’t going to be accosted by any strange males.

  “Yeah. Unfortunately,” John answered.

  The bartender nodded in sympathy and walked away. So much for caring.

  “How did you know where to find me?” I demanded.

  “It’s the closest pub to the hospital. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. My head dropped forward and I was forced to sit up properly, which was a lot harder than I’d anticipated. “Hey!” I protested.

  “Come on,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s get you home.” But he didn’t move. Instead, he paused and sniffed. “You’ve been smoking. I thought you quit?”

  “Leave me alone,” I mumbled, hating the disappointment in his voice.

  He frowned at me. “Believe me, I’d like to.”

  I mirrored his frown. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Protecting you from yourself.” He hauled me off the bar stool.

  “Mmm. You smell good.”

  “Unlike you,” I heard him mutter.

  I rested my head against his chest anyway. That chest that I was one day going to paint if I had anything to do with it. “How do you always smell so damn good?” I wondered aloud.

  John raised a dark eyebrow. “Wow. You are drunk.”

  “Meaning?”

  “That’s the closest you’ve ever come to throwing yourself at me.”

  I didn’t have an answer for that because I was too busy trying to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other and not fall over. Outside, he led me around the corner to where his black Jeep was parked. He opened the passenger door and hoisted me onto the seat. I slumped against it. He reached in and pulled the belt across, clicking it in.

  I couldn’t help myself. I brushed my hand across the dark stubble on his jaw.

  His eyes widened and he jolted away from my touch. He looked at me for a long moment before slamming the door.

  We set off in silence. After about five minutes I needed something to distract me from the way the world was spinning so I reached over and turned on the stereo.

  “Garbage,” I muttered, and tried another station. “Crap. Just sad. Tragic—”

  “Scarlett.”

  John caught my hand and pushed it back onto my lap. He flicked the radio off.

  I scowled and stared out the window for the rest of the journey.

  On my street, John found a park just up from my building, then came around to get me out of the car. It took me three tries to punch in my code so we could enter the building. After that, I let him haul me upstairs.

  Inside my apartment, John dragged me to the sofa and sat me down gently. I watched as he went to the kitchen, found a glass and filled it up with water. He turned and set the glass on the coffee table in front of me.

  “Drink it,” he ordered. “Then go sleep it off.”

  He scooped up his keys and marched toward the front door.

  “That’s it?” I called out.

  He stopped but didn’t turn around.

  “I mean,” I slurred, “aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?”

  “No.” He started toward the front door again.

  “Well, that’s not very nice!” I lay down on the sofa and watched, mesmerized, as the metal beams holding up the ceiling appeared to move.

  I heard footsteps advancing in my direction. “You know what’s not very nice?” John growled, only inches from my face.

  I blinked at his fierce expression.

  “Making your best friend, who’s currently nursing a premature newborn in the hospital, worry about you. That’s what’s not very nice.”

  I closed my eyes to stop the spinning. “I don’t know why she was worried. I’m fine.”

  “Oh yeah, this is fine, is it? It’s so far from goddamn fine it’s scary. You’re a mess, Scarlett.”

  “Go home, John.”

  “That’s your answer to everything? Push away the people who care about you. God, you’re selfish.”

  I dragged myself up to a sitting position, sheer rage giving me the ability to move. “And you’re just the world’s most perfect man, aren’t you, John? Well thanks for saving the day again but I didn’t ask you to, so you can just piss off.”

  “I’m nowhere near perfect, Scarlett, but then you’re so damn caught up in yourself you have no idea.”

  “And how are you not perfect, John? Tell me.”

  “I’m in love with you, for one.”

  The room fell silent. The air between us felt charged with invisible electricity just waiting to be sparked.

  “You did not just say that,” I said eventually.

  “I’m not going to take it back.” John crossed his arms. “Although I didn’t mean for it to sound like a bad thing.”

  I reached for the glass of water and brought it unsteadily to my lips. After I’d swallowed, I looked up at him. “But it is a bad thing, isn’t it?” I asked quietly. “I’m all fucked up and exactly what you don’t need.”

  John sighed and crouched down so he was on the same level as me. “But you’re what I want.”

  “Then you’re as fucked up as me—”

  “Stop saying that! None of us are perfect. If you actually chose to face some of your issues head on, rather than running from them, you’d discover you’re not half as fucked up as you think.”

  “Bullshit!” I jumped up, somehow managing to stay on my feet in the process. I grabbed for my handbag and pulled out a copy of the contemporary art magazine I’d bought earlier in the day. I threw it onto the coffee table. “Take a look at page eighteen.”

  I waited while John stood slowly and then picked up the magazine. I watched realization flood his features when he found my review.

  “My boss saw it,” I said flatly. “I’ve got four weeks to finish a major campaign and then we’re going to discuss my position. That means I won’t have a job anymore, John. I won’t have a fucking job.”

  John looked up from the magazine. “More time to do your commissions then. After New York, you should be able to pick up another art show here in Sydney and get more commissions out of that.”

  “Are you insane?” I yelled. “What sort of silver-lined universe do you live in?”

  His eyes softened and I could read sympathy in them. “I live in the real world. Why are you so scared of this, Scarlett?” he asked gently.

  I all but launched at him, so there was barely any breathing space between us. “You want to know why I’m scared, John? You really want to know?” I prodded my index finger into his chest. “What if I’m not good enough?” There, I’d said it. My words echoed around my apartment as living proof of my fears. “All my life I’ve been forced to do things I’ve hated. Swimming, piano, math, science. And, let’s face it, advertizing. What if I fail at this? The one thing I really care about? What then, huh? What the fuck then?”

  John didn’t flinch, despite the generous amount of spittle being sprayed his way. “You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going. Just like you always have.”

  “Why do you have so much faith in me?” I whispered.

  “Because I love you,” he answered truthfully.

  Put it down to alcohol, put it down to jet lag, pu
t it down to seeing Maddy and Ava earlier, but something inside me broke. I took an unsteady step back. My legs hit the edge of the sofa and I collapsed onto it. Huge sobs wracked my body. I didn’t know where to look. Anywhere but John, so I dropped my head into my hands, trying but failing to get a hold of myself.

  John sat down beside me and drew me into his arms. My tears wet his t-shirt and the sobs just kept on coming until I was hiccuping and sobbing and struggling to breathe.

  John held me tighter.

  “Why?” I pleaded into his chest. “Why would you say that?”

  He didn’t answer, which was just as well because it was like the dam had broken and I needed to talk. “She’s so perfect. Ava’s so perfect, John. Have you seen her? She’s vulnerable and strong at the same time. You know what it made me realize? We start off amazing. It’s life that fucks us up. I stopped being amazing a long time ago—”

  “Stop it,” John said gently.

  “No.” I shook my head fiercely into his chest. “My parents never once told me they loved me, do you know that? They were always trying to change me. To make me good enough. But I never was. When I came second in math, it wasn’t first. When I topped the school in art, it wasn’t science. So I gave up. I just gave up. And they threw me out.” Tears streamed down my face and I tried to pull away. I couldn’t believe I was saying any of this, that I was letting him see me this way.

  John drew me tighter and pressed his lips into my hair. “You didn’t give up, Scarlett. You’ve wanted to, but your artwork gives you away. You’ve been scared your whole life to be yourself, that’s all.”

  “But you said it. Being myself is selfish and cynical and rude and—”

  “Shh.” John eased back and captured my face with his large hands. “No, you’re not. That’s the part of you that’s scared. I fell in love with the real Scarlett.”

  I clamped a hand to my mouth, muffling yet another sob. John crushed me against him again. I put my arms around him and held on for dear life, until I was certain I was stopping him from breathing. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Just be yourself. I promise that will always be good enough,” John whispered.

  So I let myself cry. For the first time in my entire life, I really let myself cry.

  Chapter 21

  The following morning I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I was alone. John must have left sometime after I’d fallen asleep. Disappointment and relief vied for my attention, and I didn’t know which emotion to address first. Fortunately I was given a reprieve from dealing with how I felt because I had to get ready for work. Unfortunately this avoidance strategy involved facing the hangover from hell.

  On the upside – since when did I consider upsides? – it was great to be home. The New York flu saga still fresh in my mind, I all but skipped to the shower. Alright, skipped was probably something of a leap. More an eager stride. My un-environmentally friendly, water wasting shower dealt with my moans and groans with good grace, and my coffee machine was most sympathetic.

  By the time I left the house I was in something approaching a good mood. The office was within walking distance and despite the cool bite to the air this morning, I was happy to walk.

  A few minutes into my journey, I felt my mobile phone buzz in my bag. I pulled it out as I walked along.

  Maddy.

  My heart sank. Shit. Oh well, I deserved whatever was coming my way, I supposed. I opened the message.

  Morning. Just wanted to make sure you got home safely. Blame it on my newfound motherly instincts xo

  I stopped next to a tree. My response required thought and I didn’t want to make things worse between us. While Maddy didn’t sound angry, I did owe her an apology. I hit reply.

  Home safe. Thanks for sending John. Sorry to make you worry.

  I resumed walking briskly, breathing big gulps of cold air into my lungs in the hope it would chase away the remnants of my hangover. The phone vibrated in my hand alerting me to another text message.

  Huh? Are you alright?

  I frowned and paused.

  “Hey, watch it!”

  A young guy with a beard and questionable body odor bumped into me and scowled. I met his eyes. His hangover looked worse than mine.

  “Sorry, mate,” I said. “My fault.”

  The guy’s eyebrows furrowed. With a look of confusion, he nodded and kept walking.

  What was with everybody this morning? Somehow I’d managed to confuse Maddy, and now random strangers were staring at me as if I was demented.

  I shook my head at myself and returned to Maddy’s message, quickly typing a reply.

  I’m feeling good actually. No need to worry.

  I sent the message and continued walking. The city was alive with the morning commute. A cyclist whizzed past with a metallic zing as she changed gears. A taxi nearly caused an accident as he pulled over for a fare and another car’s horn blared in outrage. I was so busy watching and listening to the city’s morning song that I barely heard my phone ring.

  I grabbed it distractedly, certain without looking at it that it was Maddy.

  “Hey,” I said. “You’re worrying.”

  “Of course I’m worrying!”

  “It’s all good. Hangover’s not too bad and John got me home safely,” I reassured her, waiting with a group of other pedestrians at a traffic light.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” I said quickly, not wanting to upset her any further. Hormones were scary at the best of times without what she’d been through recently. “I’m feeling good.”

  “You’re feeling good? And thanks for sending John?” Maddy said. “Can you hear yourself?”

  “Um, yes.” The pedestrian light went green and I started walking. “I didn’t think I’d said anything particularly offensive—”

  “Exactly!” Maddy yelled into the phone.

  Startled, I moved it away from my ear.

  “Since when do you ever thank us for getting John involved, Scarlett?” Maddy asked, her voice back to a reasonable level. I returned the phone to my ear. “Did you sleep with him?” she accused.

  “No!” A few people nearby looked my way. I lowered my voice. “Of course not. Aside from the fact it wasn’t physically possible in my drunken state, we most definitely did not go there.”

  “Then why are you so happy?”

  “I—” I broke off in shock but managed to keep walking, aware I’d probably end up tripping people if I stopped. “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  “So I’m not imagining it.” Maddy sounded distinctly relieved.

  I kept walking, not sure what to say.

  “What happened last night, Scarlett?” Maddy asked.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. Everything, I thought.

  “We need to catch up,” Maddy told me decisively. “Properly. All four of us. Tonight for dinner.”

  “Haven’t you forgot something? Starts with an A.”

  “Oh, the nurses and Paul would love it if I went out and did something for myself for a change. They’ve been encouraging it. You’d actually be doing me a favor.”

  “Dinner sounds great then. It’d be good for the four of us to catch up.” And that would be my plan, I realized. Deny all. Act like everything is normal. There was no reason to discuss my personal life.

  We said our goodbyes and Maddy promised to text me later with a time and place.

  I increased my pace, the hangover almost a distant memory. Maddy was right though. What was going on with me? I felt good. Happy. At least that’s what I thought it was. As she’d so helpfully pointed out, happiness wasn’t an emotion I was particularly familiar with. And right now I wasn’t sure I wanted to work too hard at processing exactly why that was the case.

  It could have something to do with a certain male who had the most remarkable pair of comforting arms and broad shoulders to cry on. Letting go with someone like that around had left me feeling surprisingly light.

  As for the heartfelt adm
ission of love, for now I was playing dumb. After all, I’d been drunk. I could have imagined it.

  Couldn’t I?

  *

  “Look at Scarlett and tell me she doesn’t seem happy,” Maddy said.

  Damn. And it had been going so well. So far over dinner, Maddy, Cate, and Christa had discussed Ava and the finer points of special care nurseries, leaving me to twirl my noodles with my chopsticks distractedly.

  “I’m not happy,” I denied through a mouthful.

  Cate’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you sleep with John?”

  OK, so now I was definitely not happy. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Anyone would think that John Hart was the key to all happiness. I had to admit the thought of climbing on top of him and –

  “She is smiling,” Christa observed.

  Shit. Bad train of thought. “Just a noodle stuck in my teeth.”

  Cate narrowed her eyes at me. “I still think it’s something to do with John.”

  “Or how about I could just be happy to be home,” I corrected. “Or that my exhibition is going really well and I’ve got lots of inquiries for commissions,” I added proudly.

  “That would usually freak you out,” Christa said.

  This was true. Suddenly I had an idea. Once it had lodged in my brain I was unable to shake it. If opening up to John last night had resulted in this sense of happiness, or whatever you called it, then maybe I could try to be more honest with my girlfriends too.

  I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. “I had a glowing review in Contemporary Art magazine,” I started, “except my boss discovered it. He’s told me I have four weeks to complete the big campaign I’m managing and then we’ll discuss my position at the agency. Which means I’ll no longer have a job in four weeks’ time. So after I saw Maddy and met her beautiful daughter, I went and got drunk. Maddy guessed something was wrong, so sent John to the rescue. I responded as expected and was a total bitch to him. He responded as expected and was a complete gentleman. But of course I was such a bitch he finally lost his cool and accused me of being selfish – which I am, by the way. And I kept on being a bitch and somehow in all of that he admitted that he loved me. So I cried on his shoulder and then I went to sleep. That was all that happened.”