Chasing Butterflies (22 page)

Gabriel

I’m delirious from exhaustion when I finally get home hours later. I lean over the seat and hand the taxi driver some money. Thanking him, I then climb out of the back with my bags.

As the car drives away, I stare at my cottage, hating how lonely and empty it feels—and I’m not even inside yet. I moved in a year ago, but it still doesn’t feel like home.

Mum decided to sell the big house because we didn’t really need the space anymore, and she gave me some cash so I could buy this place and start up my own business. She hasn’t been in the best shape recently, but I think selling the house and buying a little cottage of her own has helped. There were too many memories and reminders in our old house.

I push open the front door, dump my bag in the hallway and trudge up the stairs. I only managed a little nap on the plane because I was kept awake by the guys as they talked about what else they’d managed to get up to while we were away. Now my body feels like it’s hit a wall.

I take a quick shower because I can’t stand getting in a clean bed when I’m dirty. After climbing in bed without bothering to put on clothes, my eyes instantly close. Unfortunately, my mind isn’t cooperating with my tired body. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Yara, and I hate that I’m consumed by her again. I thought I was over her.

Obviously, I’m not.

Yara

Christmas in London is lonely and boring. I stare out the window at the dreary day and feel just as empty as the streets.

When I was younger, I used to imagine how I’d spend Christmas when I was an adult. I made a promise to myself to make up for all the crappy ones I’d as a child. I promised myself I’d throw parties and have a house full of people. I swore I’d never be alone again on Christmas Day. But I am.

I always imagined I’d have friends, people that liked me and wanted to spend time with me. I’d get carried away with my daydreams about being with a man at Christmas. I’d imagine us waking up in bed together, cuddling with one another while wishing each other Merry Christmas. We’d make love in front of the log fire and the snow-covered window. We’d sit by the tree, drinking champagne while exchanging presents.

I smile as I think about it. I was always in love in my daydreams, even before I met Gabriel and knew what true love really was. There was always a handsome man in my dreams—a man that loved me unconditionally.

Not only was that dream completely ridiculous, it was also unrealistic. The men I’ve met over the years were never the sort of men to spend a Christmas morning showering me with love like that…except Gabriel. Out of all of them, he’s the only one I could imagine treating me like that.

I sigh, knowing that dwelling too much on Gabriel—what could have been—is a waste of time. It’s pointless, just like I once told him. It’s done. It’s never going to change, and I have to accept that. I have to live with it and move on.

I turn away from the window and stare at my Christmas tree. It took me three hours to dress it and fill it with all the decorations I’d collected over the years. I might have known that I wouldn’t be sharing this day with anyone and that no one else would even see my tree, but I still went ahead and got the biggest one I could find that would fit in my living room. I think my psychiatrist would have something to say about that.

The microwave dings, letting me know my roast turkey meal for one is done. I light the candle on the table as I walk past it and then pour myself another glass of champagne.

As I’m eating my pathetic Christmas dinner, I can’t help but think about how I wish I could go back in time. I’d change everything except
him
.

I’ve been kidding myself over the last five years. I’ve pretended I was fine. I convinced myself that my heart wasn’t really broken…that I’d get over him. I haven’t.

I’ve always stopped myself from thinking like this before now, but now I’ve seen and felt him again, I can’t stop the thoughts from tumbling around in my head. Yes, it hurt when I left him, but I took it as a punishment for what I’d done.

Seeing him here two weeks ago and feeling the way my body and heart reacted to him has made me realise that no man will ever come close to making me feel how he made me feel. There aren’t many things in my life that I believe were meant to be, but I think he was one of them. I think he was always supposed to be the boy that I fell in love with. The boy I gave my heart to.

I loved Jez. We were good together, even if some of the things he was involved in scared the living daylights out of me. He treated me well. He loved me. I know he did. But I just couldn’t love him back as much as he loved me—not properly anyway—and that’s what destroyed us in the end.

It wasn’t the drugs he used to carry, or the way he’d come home bloodied and bruised from the illegal fights he took part in. It wasn’t that he swore like a trooper or never put the toilet seat down. I just couldn’t love him like I loved Gabriel. And while he might have felt like I loved him like I should have,
I
knew I didn’t. It wasn’t fair to him continue believing I did.

He couldn’t understand how I could still be in love with a boy that I had a “crush” on when I was sixteen. I tried to tell him that it was much more than that, but he didn’t believe me. It took a pregnancy scare—and how badly I reacted at the thought of having his baby—to make him see that I wasn’t right for him. He told me he was glad I was leaving when I eventually told him, and I don’t blame him for a single second.

The shrill ring of the telephone jolts me from my thoughts. My cutlery clatters against my empty plate and I push out of my seat, trying to remember where I last had the phone. I find it under one of the many pillows I have scattered on my sofa and jab the answer button.

“Hello?” I say, wedging the phone between my jaw and my shoulder as I tidy the pillows back up.

“You alone?”

The shock of hearing his deep, gravelly voice after all this time makes me drop the pillow I’m holding.

“Yes,” I finally whisper.

“I’m outside,” he says.

“How did you know where I was?”

“Oh, come on,” he says. From the way his voice quirks, I know he’s smiling as he speaks. “You should know by now that I have ways and means of doing whatever I want, Yara.”

Of course he has
. “What do you want, Jez?”

“Just to talk.”

I walk toward the door and lean against the wall with the phone pressed against my cheek.

He knocks on the door. Three times. Steady and sure. I stare at the door, not knowing what to do. I don’t imagine he’s here just to wish me a happy Christmas, but I’m curious too.
Why now? Why today?

Fuck it
, I think. I turn the handle and pull the door wide open.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he says, smiling at me. Without even waiting for me to answer, he grabs the phone out of my hand and throws it behind me. I hear it bouncing off the sofa and onto the floor.

I can’t help but smile back at him. He looks just as good as I remember. His dark, unruly hair is as messy as always, though it’s a little longer than I’m used to seeing it. His sparkling green eyes sweep all over me as I stand back and take him in.

He’s wearing all black. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear any other colour than black, but he looks good in it. His bulging muscles scream against the tight fabric of his t-shirt as he reaches up and strokes my face with the back of his fingers.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he says.

I laugh and stand back, letting him in my apartment as my eyes trail all over him again.
God, he’s lovely
.

“Like what you see?” he asks, smirking at me.

I don’t answer him because I do like what I see. If only it were enough.

“What are you doing here, Jez?”

He sighs and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I didn’t like the thought of you being alone on Christmas.”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly.

“Huh, is that so?” I watch his eyes moving around the room. “Dinner for one, Yara?”

“Yes.”

I follow him as he makes his way across my living room. He stands in front of the window, the same window Gabriel kissed me against a couple of weeks ago, and looks out across the London skyline. “I thought you’d be with him.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Gabriel.”

Oh
.

“Why aren’t you?” He turns his head so he’s looking at me over his shoulder and frowns at me. “You should be.”

Now it’s my turn to frown. This isn’t what I was expecting. “I can’t. There are things that you don’t know about. Reasons why I can’t be with him.”

“Don’t give me that,” he says. “
You
might think they’re reasons, but he might not. You haven’t given him a chance to make that decision for himself.”

I open my mouth but then shut it again. Talking to Jez about Gabriel feels weird.

“He’s alone today too, you know. I checked there to see if you were with him first,” he says, staring at me, waiting for a reaction. When he doesn’t get one, he raises an eyebrow and turns back to look out of the window.

“What’s all this about?” I ask, taking a step towards him. “I don’t understand.”

He sighs and leans forward until his forehead rests against the cool glass. “I love you,” he tells me, “so it kills me to know that you’re not happy. Even though I hate the thought of you being with him, I wish you were.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’d be happy, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. You deserve to be happy, Yara.”

I swallow the lump that feels like it’s stuck in my throat and stare at him. “Why are you being so nice?”

Smiling, he says, “Wasn’t I always nice?” Then he shakes his head, but I don’t know why. “I’m not going to deny that you hurt me. But I know you didn’t do it on purpose, and I know you tried to love me. It still hurt though, and that’s why it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

I take a step towards him and reach out for his arm. “Jez, I—”

“I knew you loved him the day you left Eleze,” he says, turning to face me. “And I knew you still loved him when you came out of that
place
.” He winces as if he hates even thinking about it. “I also know that you loved him even when you loved me.”

I nod because it’s true. All of it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, pinning me with his emerald-green eyes. “I’m not sorry I met you, and I’m not sorry you let me love you.”

“But how you can say that?” I ask. “How can you be okay with wasting time with me if you knew I had feelings for Gabriel the whole time?”

He gives me a small smile and takes one step until he’s right in front of me. Cupping my face in his hands, he brushes this thumbs across my cheeks. “You loved me,” he whispers. “It might not have been as much as you loved him, but you loved me. I went through life thinking I was unlovable. My mother was vile, my father was a drunk bastard that didn’t give two shits about me, and everyone else that came into my life wanted me because of what I was, not
who
I was.” He pulls my hand up to his face and kisses the ring that’s still wrapped around my finger—the ring he gave me exactly a year ago today. “You loved me enough to agree to spend the rest of your life with me. I’ll never forget that.”

“I
still
love you,” I tell him through a breathless sob.

“I know,” he whispers, lacing his fingers through mine. “It’s just not enough, right?”

“I’m sorry,” I say through trembling lips. “I wish it was.”

“No need to be sorry,” he tells me, pulling me against him. “Let’s just get drunk like normal people right now. And then we’re going to talk about how you’re going to make things right with Gabriel.”

“That’s not an option, I’m afraid,” I say sadly.

“Yes it is, Yara. And if he’s anything like the man I think he is, then he’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”

“Jeremy,” I whisper as he lifts my chin with his fingers.

He narrows his eyes at me but smiles. “What have I told you about calling me that?”

I smile as a tear sneaks into the corner of my mouth—the same corner that Jez gently presses his mouth against. I turn, expecting him to want more but he pulls away and wipes the tears from my face with the tips of his fingers. “I’ve kissed too many of your tears away, Yara. A girl as talented and as beautiful as you should only cry happy tears.”

“And I haven’t kissed away enough of yours,” I tell him softly, leaning into the palm of his hand. “You don’t let people in, and—”

“I let you in,” he interrupts.

“Okay, well you need to let
more
people in. If you don’t let them in, how can you ever expect them to love the real you?”

“Then maybe we both need to have a sit-down and figure out what the fuck we do next.”

Gabriel

“I don’t know what to say to you first,” says Ella.

I sip my whiskey as I watch Jonny and his fiancée dancing like a couple of drunken skunks on the other side of the room. “What do you mean?”

“Well, do I wish you Happy New Year or Happy Birthday first?”

I smile, wondering if I’d find her half as funny without five whiskeys down my neck. Ella Jones has been coming back home twice a year since she left four years ago, and while we’ve never actually dated—apart from those couple of dates we had when we were younger—she always seems to radiate toward me.

“You can say whatever you want,” I tell her.

She clinks her glass against mine and then snuggles up to the side of me. I pull away an inch, not wanting to feel her against my arm like that. “I heard the stag party was good.”

I nod as my eyes roam around the hall. It’s the only tradition in this stupid village that I don’t mind. Every single year the parish council decorates the hall, hires a DJ from outside the village and provides a mini-bar so that the whole community can welcome in the new year.

“Gabriel,” she says, waving her hand in front of my face. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry,” I mumble. I stretch my neck out and give it a quick rub. “I spent all yesterday digging out some foundations. I’m just a bit tired.”