Page 71 of London, Can You Wait?

To: Alexandra Sinclair

Sent: 2 January, 15:37

Subject: My side of the story

Mouse,

You can rest easy now. I won’t be showing up at Lucy’s again. I’m flying back to Dublin tonight.

I didn’t think I could make things worse, but I did, didn’t I?

Truth be told, I don’t regret pounding on the door or shouting at Lucy. I don’t regret bunking on her step, refusing to leave, or the cop visit. I was desperate. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat, trying to prove to you how much I love you, but your silence has made me realize that you’re just not ready to talk. I guess I proved the casting agents wrong last night, eh? Turns out, I can play a realistic psycho. I never intended to freak you out. For that, I’m truly sorry. I know I keep saying it, but I am. I just keep hoping you will accept one of those sorrys, and we can fix what I’ve broken.

I keep going over everything in my head, trying to figure out how I got into this mess. I swear on my life, Alex, I don’t remember what happened or how I woke up in bed with her. Dublin has always been a tricky place for me. It’s my hometown, but it’s also a place I’ve left behind on purpose. Maybe like you with Tallahassee—there are too many bad memories mixed in with the good ones, you know?

Here’s the honest truth then, about me and Fallon. I want you to know everything.

Fallon and I—

“Fuck it.”

Alex jumped. Had Lucy seen the email?

“I didn’t need this today.” Lucy inhaled deeply, her eyes wide.

“Huh?”

“I swear I could hear the veins popping in his neck from his voicemail.”

“Oh…your boss?” Alex breathed easier. “He knows you’re playing hooky?”

“Don’t think so, but I was supposed to launch the New Year’s ‘eating well’ initiative on social media today! It completely slipped my mind.” Lucy grabbed her hair at the temples. “I have to post it before six tonight or I’ll be in deep shit. Can we head back?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex started walking towards London Bridge Tube station.

“Thank God my call went straight to his voicemail,” said Lucy. “If I’m lucky he’ll believe I’m tucked up in bed with a fever and The Chase on TV.”

• • •

Alex crawled into bed, nesting with Charlie’s overstuffed duvet and her laptop. It was only half past five, but Lucy was busy downstairs on her computer, tweeting the nutritional merits of “rainbow super bowl salads” and coconut porridge, so Alex took advantage of the alone time. She put in her earbuds, hit play on her iPod, and opened Mark’s email again.

…have known each other since we were twelve. I met her at the dry cleaners where our mums worked. To me, she was just a stupid, snobby girl, taking tap and drama classes.

Dad had passed away two months earlier, and I was having a tough time. Mum and my teachers agreed that afterschool drama classes might boost my confidence, so I began to see Fallon regularly. They cast us opposite each other in our first play. She was the obvious star—everyone said it, but she was full of herself, cocky, ambitious. She announced early on, “I’m going to marry Leo DiCaprio,” which I took to mean, “I’m well out of your league, Keegan, don’t get your hopes up.” But by the time we were fifteen, we started to fancy each other. I lost my virginity to her soon after at a house party. For the most part, it was a normal teenage relationship with long drives in my beat-up Mini, snogging behind pubs, and having sex—

She glared at the screen and punched a pillow. Great! An insider’s guide to Mark and that bitch fucking their way through high school? NOT HELPING! She slapped the screen of her laptop closed and dissolved into the pillows, determined not to cry.