The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 32 - Inception

"Wait!" I called out as I reached the green waiting area. He was already on his phone, walking purposefully towards the lifts. "Jeremy, wait! Jeremy!"

He stopped and slowly turned around.

"Perfect. I'll see you in ten, babe," he said into his phone, his eyes challenging mine before hanging up. Something inside me cracked. "Yes?" he said with disdain.

I realised I had no idea what I was going to say. The first thing that came out of my mouth was, "Who was that?"

My voice came out hurt, angry and jealous, and I hated it.

"Nobody," he shrugged. But his message was clear.

None of your business.

"Are you okay?" I tried again.

He looked fiercely at me for an abnormally long time and, as difficult as it was, I held his gaze, trying to understand what the hell was going on in that dark head of his.

"Yes," he answered.

That was it? Yes?

"Are you sure?"

He looked away and pursed his lips. A wave of panic rushed through me, seeing that his guard was thicker than ever. "What's with all the questions?"

The tone of his voice, the hard set of his jaw, hurt me more than his words. The back of my eyes began to sting and I hesitated before answering with a slight stutter. "Y-you didn't say a word on our way home yesterday, I... I mean this morning, and... and I've called you a hundred times but you didn't answer or reply to my texts."

"I was busy," he said dismissively.

I looked back at him, confused. Jeremy had his moments but he'd never acted like this before. He was never cruel. Never. Not even when we fought. His eyes moved restlessly around the room, his fists digging deep into his pockets.

He was busy. Maybe that was it. He was a busy man after all. He had told me he had to work and that he hadn't got much sleep.

"Okay," I said quietly. "Alright. I just wanted to, you know, make sure things aren't weird between us... after yesterday. I mean this morning."

"Why would things be weird?" he shrugged again, coolly.

I froze, paralysed. I didn't know what to say to this. His eyes were on me accusingly, his cold glare pinning me to the ground. That was when I noticed his eyes were bloodshot beneath his dark lashes and I caught a faint whiff of whisky.

He'd been drinking.

"Nothing happened, Ally." His voice was hard and impatient.

"I... I know that," I stammered.

"So, why would things be weird?"

"They wouldn't," I replied, feeling pressured.

He opened his mouth to reply, but he didn't say anything. He closed his eyes and something about him softened just a little. I breathed out to calm myself and looked away. I didn't know why I even ran after him. What was I expecting him to say? He was right. Nothing happened.

"Millie looks well, all things considered," he said, sounding notably more gentle.

"Yes," I replied shakily, still reeling from the argument we didn't really have.

Nothing happened.

"Has the doctor spoken to you yet?"

But it almost did, right? It wasn't just my imagination. I couldn't be the only one who felt this tension between us, even now. There wouldn't be any tension if nothing happened. And if nothing happened, why the hell had he been drinking this early in the day? And who the fuck was he going to see in ten minutes? Who the fuck was Babe? Millie was in hospital! She'd just been operated on and he was off to hook up with Babe?