Page 12 of The Reality of Us
All this tumbled around her mind, mocking her and the ache in her body.
So what. He was a good-looking guy. That wasn’t news to her. Seeing him like this was just unexpected, which explained why she was so rattled by his appearance. And it’d been a long time since she’d had sex. God, it had been even longer since she’d been hugged. She was craving comfort, clearly. Nothing a bubble bath, some Netflix and a glass of wine couldn’t fix.
Alice stayed hidden until the only thing she could hear was the occasional cockatoo squawking and the pounding of her heart. Checking her watch, she turned around and headed back towards the start of the trail. For the first time in a week, she had an appointment she couldn’t miss. The privacy she craved was finally within reach.
Alice was almost at her car when she saw Chris.
Damn. She plastered a big smile on her face. God forbid she made him mad, although judging by the steely expression in his eyes, it was already too late.
“I figured if you wouldn’t take my calls, I’d come to you.” He was dressed in his usual uniform of an open-necked business shirt and pressed slacks. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, the platinum of his watch a sharp contrast to his tanned skin.
Alice tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Today’s braid wasn’t her usual standard because she’d stayed in the shower too long trying to avoid thinking about Owen’s shoulders and chest and … and now she was running late. If the showerhead had been one of those adjustable ones on a hose, she might never have gotten out or been able to look at her lawyer without blushing. She pressed her thighs together, silently chiding herself.
“Walk with me.” Chris pointed towards the park across the road with his takeaway coffee cup. “Or better yet, let’s just go back to the city.”
“I’ve got an appointment, sorry.” Alice’s words were hollow, with no trace of her pretend apology. She’d have to do better to avoid a scene.
“I wasn’t asking.” Chris crossed his arms and blocked the driver’s side door of her car. “Quite the stunt you pulled with your rings,” said the man who had rebuffed every one of her attempts to stage an intervention for Phoenix’s partying, maybe even organise a stint in rehab, citing the ‘bad optics’ of those suggestions and gaslighting Alice into thinking she was over-reacting.
Alice straightened. She didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself, but she wouldn’t be bullied. Not today. Not when her ticket to more freedom was within her reach. The other night had been a victory for her, and one she’d really needed. Selling her rings was going to solve a lot of her problems. And, fine. It had been fun. She’d gone live every time she’d hit a milestone bid, whipping her followers into a frenzy. Pissing Phoenix off was the cherry on top of her independence-flavoured sundae.
“What were you thinking? Now no one will believe you guys are getting back together. And what about Phoenix? He’s trying to fix this, and you do this to him?”
Alice was suddenly very aware of how quiet the street was. A group of older women, including the grumpy cashier from Swift’s General Store, were sitting at a table outside the pub, their coffees forgotten as they watched her. Wyatt was pretending to clear a table near the door, too.
“We can talk later,” Alice said to Chris.
“No.” Anger simmered in his tone.
When she’d first met Chris, he’d been all smiles and big promises. He’d pledged to help them transform their fifteen minutes of fame into an empire. But somewhere along the line, the focus had shifted to Phoenix and his music career. Alice had become nothing but a commodity.
“Could you move, please?” She spoke through gritted teeth.
“No.”
Alice sucked in the cool air, kept her hands wrapped around the strap of her bag. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. A painful silence extended between them until Chris pushed off her car and lumbered towards her. It took everything she had not to step backwards. The scent of cigarettes and extra minty gum washed over her. The thick sole on her Doc Martens added a few extra centimetres, but Chris still loomed over her.
She jumped when a hand touched her elbow.
“Everything okay here?” Owen asked. Where’d he come from? He was still in his workout gear, flanked by three other men also in running shorts and slouchy jumpers. Alice recognised them from the group she’d seen running earlier that morning. They all held steaming coffee cups and varying expressions of concern.
“Alice?” Owen asked again.
Like he’d flicked a switch, Chris smiled, his perfect teeth gleaming. “Christian Lamorne, pleased to meet you.”
Owen ignored Chris’s extended hand. He tilted his head towards Chris, but his eyes never left hers. “Friend of yours?”
“My manager.” Alice tried to smile but imagined she looked like she’d eaten some bad fish. “He’s leaving.” She tried to inject some confidence into her tone, but Chris spoke over her.
“Alice always loves to meet a fan, but we’re in the middle of a business meeting, so if you could excuse us …”
Owen looked between them, his forehead wrinkling as he raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like you’re done here, mate.”
Chris’s smile turned predatory, his friendly pretence discarded like one of the designer suit jackets he bought by the dozen. “And this doesn’t concern you, mate,” he said to Owen.
Owen slid a business card from the back of his phone case. “As Ms Aspinall’s lawyer …”
Chris whipped his gaze towards Alice. This time, she did step back. The heel of her boot caught in a crack in the pavement, and she stumbled. Owen grabbed her, the heat of his palms scorching through the long sleeves of her polka-dot blouse.
