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“Wait ‘til I tell Bucky and Finn. They love Pinky. Mr Tubbs is for it.”
“To be fair to Tubbs, it's Pinky at fault. She’s a determined pony, and she should not be in season; it’ll be a miracle birth. Marshall’s trying to charge me an extra cover fee for the stallion.”
“Classic Marshall. I’m going to phone him and give him some hassle about his delinquent stallion, taking advantage of an old lady!” He waves as he signs off.
I sigh in relief. God bless that boy, and God bless the Greystones and Marshall for bringing him up with me. Fucking Marcus. Literally. And Gabe of all people. Wow, never would have thought that.
I smile when I think about James trying to wrestle any freebies out of Marshall. The old man is an enigma. But I can’t imagine my life without him. Thick and thin he has been with me, supported me at every turn. Even moved his life to Devon along with the Greystones for me.
My phone rings with a facetime call. It’s an LA number, and I pick it up expecting to see Bucky shouting about Pinky.
It’s not. It’s Marcus.
My smile drops from my face when I see him. He looks awful. Good. I say nothing, just look at him.
“Evie,” he croaks out. “Evie, don’t hang up.”
I still say nothing. I look into his face and see a man on the edge. I shake my head a little, but no words. He’s grabbing his hair like he’s about to go berserk, pulling it out literally by the roots. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of mischief, are dead. Red rimmed and swollen. His face grey and haggard. He’s a mess. But he so deserves it.
I fleetingly think we might need to go out and sort him out rather than James. Little did I know my prophecy about James tearing him apart would be true.
“Start talking,” I snap out with no remorse whatsoever and shut up, staring at him, daring him to try and defend himself.
“I, they, he…” He can’t form a coherent sentence. “I need to speak to him. He won’t… He isn’t.. I can’t.” He stops again and looks around him.
Xander takes the phone from him. “Evie,” he pants out like he’s sprinted a race, “thank god. We need to see James, but he won’t see us or talk to us. Any of us. Even Mick. And you can see the state of Marcus,” he gestures to the statue next to him. “Gabe’s having a breakdown, he thinks it’s his fault.”
“I don’t give a shit about Marcus’s boyfriend.”
Marcus starts to moan, “No, no, no, Kitten please. No, it’s not like that.”
“Marcus I don’t care who you’re fucking, but I am not having my son feeling so insignificant he has to leave you. What the hell Marcus?” I’m absolutely seething. And then I remember all those empty assurances. “You promised me. You promised me, Marcus!” I’m getting upset and tears of anger are in my eyes. “What? How? Marcus!” I’m so frustrated. I should never have let them go. I knew he would not be able to control himself. It’s me that has now lost the power of speech. “I need to go. James is fine, you’ll just have to wait ‘til he’s ready.” It’s his fault not mine, not James's. He’ll have to deal with it.
“Kitten, no, no don’t?—”
I hang up.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
MARCUS
Marcus. I’m back to being Marcus.
I slump down on the sofa, put my head back on the rest, and look up to the heavens. What the fuck have I done?
I should never have taken them to that bar and club.
I should have kicked Amber out when Mick said, not allowed Gabe to influence me.
Stopped drinking when we all got home.
The list of missed opportunities to do the right thing is endless. Why the fuck don’t I learn. I could have waited until they had all gone to bed. I don’t need an audience all the time, or a crowd.
“I think they just need a bit of time,” Xander says, almost to himself.
“Really Xan? You heard her. Marcus. She called me Marcus through the whole of that. It’s done before it's even begun.”
