“Anderson,” Dad said, his voice firm.
My father stood in front of me as if he were protecting me, but I asked him to move aside, which he did reluctantly. I blinked as I stared at the stranger who looked so happy to see me.
“Noah.” He took a few rushed steps forward. “Baby, you’re awake.”
Baby? I thought to myself. Who is this man to call me baby?
I looked from this Anderson stranger to my parents, then back to him. My head thumped as it tried to understand what was happening to me. I couldn’t take any more surprises. I just couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, mister . . . but who the hell are you?”
“It’s me, Noah.” The man frowned deeply as he took another step forward. “It’s Anderson . . . I’m your husband.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ELLIOT
“I’m sorry for your loss, son.”
I nodded in the direction of the man who was offering his condolences to me. I had no idea who he was, but that was the way of things as of late. I didn’t know most of the people who had spoken to me over the last two weeks, but it didn’t matter. All of the words were the same in the end, in a roundabout kind of way.
Sorry for your loss.
She was such a ray of light.
She was too good for this world.
God only takes the best, Eli.
That last one always made me grind my teeth to the point of pain. He only took the best . . . Yeah, He did, and He thought fuck everyone else left behind to mourn them. With a grunt, I downed my second whiskey and signalled to the bartender for another. The tanned-skinned woman with soft hazel eyes flashed me a look of concern, but she said nothing as she refilled my glass.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
With a frown on her face, she turned from me to her next customer. I stared down into the brown liquid and hoped it soon brought the darkness upon me that I craved. I needed the numbness that alcohol brought, I needed to escape from the pain I constantly felt, and as of late, that escape was always at the bottom of a bottle.
Noah.
The simplest thought of Noah Ainsley made my heart pound a little faster.
Once upon a time, she was my entire world and I was hers. I closed my eyes when her face filled my mind’s eye. Her hair was the colour of spun gold and hung in thick waves to her waist. Her large doe eyes were a mixture of emerald and jade, and framed by long, dark blonde lashes. Her lips that felt as soft as the inside of a rose were always stretched into a beaming smile. Her skin was fair as porcelain and her heart was as pure as gold. If there was anyone that I ever considered perfect, it was Noah.
She was quiet whereas I was loud. She was soft, welcoming and understanding whereas I tended to have my guard up about a lot of things until I felt at ease enough to lower it. She was day and I was night. In many ways, we were total opposites. She was an optimist and I was a realist. Those differences made me love her all the more. She was pure sweetness and I had never felt calmer than when she was by my side.
I opened my eyes and silently cursed myself for thinking of her in the past tense. She was alive and I told myself over and over that she would remain that way. She had to be okay . . . I didn’t know what I would do if she wasn’t. I couldn’t lose her . . . I’d already lost a piece of my heart – if Noah died, I had no reason for living.
“Dumbarse,” I muttered to myself. “She fuckin’ hates ye.”
Noah was the love of my life, and four years ago I made a mistake that ruined our relationship and her trust in me. In the end, it all led to her marrying another man.
Don’t think about it.
I took a gulp of my drink, no longer noticing the liquid burning its way down my throat.
“Irish,” a familiar voice behind me said as a hand slid on to my shoulder and squeezed. “My guy, you can’t keep doing this do yourself.”
I downed the contents of my glass, wishing I was alone so I could wallow in peace.
“I don’t need a lecture, AJ.” My voice was raspy even to my own ears, but it made my friend sigh. “I need a drinkin’ buddy, pull up a stool.”
He did as I asked, but he got a glass of water instead of a whiskey and it made me frown. I turned my head and looked at him. He stared right back at me as he picked up his glass of water and drank from it. I’d known Ajax Edwards since I’d moved to Dulwich, South London, with my mother, father and eleven-year-old sister, when I was a couple months shy of eighteen.