Never Summer Again

Chapter Forty - Three - No Pressure

Score: Landing in London - Three Doors Down

Lydia

The heavy feeling, gnawing at me, as the plane touches down, is only multiplied by the weather.

Mark and I left sunny, hot Greece, the day after the wedding, only to land in London in gloomy, gray skies, heavy with rain. I can't help but laugh at the irony. We left the beaches, where Mark told me he loved me, and the soft, warm sand so that I can figure out what to do with my university offer and go talk to Colin about funding my tuition.

In just four short days, I've experienced what feels like the full range of human emotions, from joy, euphoria, and love, to disappointment, anger, and despair.

Fuck me, how do people deal with this shit, without getting completely insane?

On top of that is the growing suspicion that there is something seriously off with Mark.

I heard him call someone on the phone Patrick at Peter and Laura's wedding. And I definitely heard him talk about money.

Does Mark have money problems? And, if he does, why hasn't he said something?

I've been to his games with him, and I can't help but wonder, is it possible that he's gotten himself into trouble in some way? His own words from the night he took me to The Game for the first time have been echoing in my mind since yesterday.

"Also, some people get indebted. They begin to owe money to The Game. And they need to play more in order to pay off their debts."

After all, those people are all gamblers, and it doesn't need a lot of figuring out to imagine how someone so young and cocky could make himself some very powerful enemies. The people I met there, were some of the most high-profile people I have seen, at the same time, in the same place, and I've had my fair share of exclusive events.

However, I can't rule out the possibility that that was Patrick Casterly on the phone. Mark's voice was seeping with frustration before he ended the call. I've seen him around Patrick. I kind of grasped the same vibe there. Plus, what are the odds that someone called Patrick, who clearly evokes all sorts of negative emotions in Mark, and has something to do with me, obviously, and also holds a grudge against Mark, is harassing him for money?

But that's ridiculous, Patrick's loaded, and he has no relation to Mark whatsoever if you don't count, well, me.

This just doesn't sit right with Patrick. It isn't like the Patrick I used to know...

Yet the lump in my throat, which makes it hard to breathe at the thought of him, serves as a reminder that the Patrick I used to know wouldn't have choked me, either. He wouldn't have called me a whore.

Maybe, I don't really know Patrick. Maybe, I never have.

I raise my hand to my throat, the memory of Patrick's hand, tightening around my neck, making my skin tingle.

I glance sideways at Mark. He looks a lot more relaxed now than he had yesterday. Yet, there is tension in his neck and shoulders that's making the movements of his head and neck seem a little awkward.

It's nothing that anyone else would notice, but I know him too well. It's a reaction of his body to stress that I've seen too many times.

He feels me watching him and snakes an arm around my shoulders, smiling down at my face.

"You OK, babe?" He asks.