Page 8 of Cuffed By Love

Mira Evans—MyTinks, my almost, my first everything.

They say you never forget your first. Whoever said that was right. It’s been nearly ten years since I last saw or spoke to her, but my heart still flutters like crazy at the thought of her, just like it did when we first kissed.

Over the years, I often thought about jumping on a plane and flying to London to see her, but I could never bring myself to do it after the way we left things…the way I left things with her. One day I was happy, had everything I wanted, and the next, I was flying across the world to start a whole new life, leaving her behind.

You’re not supposed to find your soul mate at five years old, but I did. Mira was my other half until I was ripped away from her. I waited for months for her to call or email or even write to me, but she didn’t. I picked the phone up a million times to call her, just to hear her voice, but I lost my nerve every single time, worried about her reaction or even if she wanted to speak to me which—evidently, she didn’t—because I never heard from her.

I ultimately gave up and pushed her to the back of my mind and got on with my life. Though I won’t lie and say I’d forgotten about Tinks because I didn’t. She would creep into my mind now and again. I had many girlfriends growing up, sowed my wild oats until I met my current girlfriend—Megan Young, almost five years ago. Her father is Duncan Young, a renowned businessman with successful firms all over the world. As much as I loved working with my father at Evans & King Publishing, I always wanted to start my own thing, so I did with Megan’s father’s backing. Three years ago, I started my record label. King Records took off, and now I’ve got some of the biggest artists signed on and producing under my label. I still help out with the publishing company as well as focusing on my own business.

My life was set. I had a great girl, and I was doing what I loved for a living. And then came the devastating news of my father’s cancer diagnosis. Stage two Sarcoma. He discovered a lump on his knee, which grew significantly until my mother dragged him to the doctors to have it checked. His biopsy came back malignant, and it spread pretty quickly to his lung soon after he had surgery to remove the lump and decided he wanted to go back home to London to fight his cancer. He keeps saying if he’s going to die, he wants it to be at home, close to his family.

So here we are, flying back to London on our private jet. My older brother Levi lives in Australia, moved out there two years ago to do his own thing. Following his dreams of becoming an artist and exploring the world. Much like myself, Levi also holds fifteen per cent of the shares in the publishing company. I believe Uncle Noah did the same for Ayla and Mira. That way, everyone was equal.

I look over at my father sitting on the opposite aisle to me, engrossed in reading his book and can’t help the gnawing deep in the pit of my stomach. He needs to beat this. I can’t imagine a life without him in it. He’s my hero, the one I looked up to growing up, the one I aspired to be just like. One of the strongest, smartest, and compassionate man I have ever met. My parents— after almost thirty-five years together —are still happy and in love with one another. My mum is asleep with her sock-clad feet propped up on his lap while he mindlessly rubs her toes as he reads.

While I watch them, my mind summons images of Tinks and me in similar moments. We were in my bedroom, thirteen years old, working on an assignment for our history project. I was lying on my back reading through notes we took in class, and Tinks was lying at the foot of the bed on her back with her legs thrown over my thighs reading a textbook. I loved that we were always so comfortable around one another like it was the most natural thing in the world. I miss her so much; I’ve never stopped missing her. I miss us and the person I was with her.

I wonder how she will react when she sees me standing in front of her. I’m not proud of it, but I may have gotten curious and stalked her social media over the years. She’s still as beautiful as ever, only now she’s older, her hair long, down to her lower back, the ends lightened, rocking that two-tone thing that chicks do with their hair where its dark at the roots and gradually lightens.

I lose myself with memories of her, and before I realise, we’ve touched down in London.

Home sweet home.

Even though I was jetlagged, I couldn’t sleep. I was tossing and turning the whole night in the new apartment that I have rented for the duration of my stay in London. It was a decent-sized two-bedroom apartment with a view of the London skyline and River Thames. The living room was decorated modernly, the floors a light grey, marble ceramic tiles, the walls plain white with various paintings hung up all around. It was simple and suited me just fine. My girlfriend Megan will spruce it up, no doubt, the moment she visits. Being an interior decorator, she loves a good project.

The following day I wake up, and I’m anxious. My stomach is tied up in knots as we walk through the building. Today is the day. After almost a decade, I get to see my Tinks. We sat in a conference room conversing with Uncle Noah about my father’s condition when the door opens, and my heart almost leaps out of my chest. I deflate practically instantly when I see Ayla and not Mira that walked in. She stops at the door, her brown eyes on me, her mouth agape.

“Ayla, sweetheart, come on in. You remember Devin.” Uncle Noah says, and her eyes almost bug out of their sockets.

“D-Devin?” She utters, surprised, her eyes raking over the length of me when I rise to my full height.

“Hey, Ayla.” I greet her, and she lifts her hand and waves. Still shell-shocked. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Wow, little Devin is not so little anymore, huh. Life in Singapore agrees with you.” I smile and give her a nod as we take our seat. “So, you’re the new CEO?”

“I am,” I answer, my eyes flittering to the door, anticipating Mira to walk in right after, but she doesn’t.

“Where’s Mimi?” Uncle Noah questions his eldest daughter, who tears her eyes away from me and look at her father. My ears perk up at the mention of her.

“She’ll be along in a minute. You know what she’s like.” Ayla sighs with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Uncle Noah smiles and nods fondly.

“You must be looking forward to seeing her again after such a long time.” He states, leaning over and patting me on my shoulder. “Dev and Tinks reunited.”

I open my mouth to respond when my ears pick up the distinct sound of heels clicking on the wood floor. I lift my gaze and look over at the door, and my heart starts to race.

“Ah, there she is.” Uncle Noah states, and she stops as soon as she steps in, and her eyes fall upon me. I stand, and we stare at one another. It felt like the world stopped spinning on its axis the moment our eyes met. My palms go clammy, and I feel myself starting to sweat in the suit I’m wearing.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“Hey, Tinks.” I finally find my voice and greet her. The coffee cup slips from her fingers and hits the ground, splattering all over the floor.

“Devin?” Her voice is barely over a whisper, but it resonates through me. Those stunning golden eyes rake over me, just like her sister did before. I do the same for her. Still petite, save for her heels, I’d say she stood at around five-foot-four or five at a push.

When her eyes finally lift to mine, I can’t figure out the look she holds in her eyes. I fight off the urge to walk over and pull her into my arms. Instead, I stuff my hands into my pockets and fist them and nod with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” She utters and steps over the spilt coffee on the floor and moves over to the table when the cleaning attendant comes in to clean it up. We take a seat opposite each other, and I keep my eyes on her while she avoids looking at me and looks at her father instead, who is watching us bemused, no doubt picking up on the friction between us.

“We can start.” She states, sitting upright, her eyes glued to the table. Throughout the brief meeting, she didn’t look at me for longer than a few seconds. Not until I turn my attention to her father, and I can see her watching me from the corner of my eye. The hairs on the back of my neck go up under her gaze, and I’m trying desperately to focus on what her father is saying, but my brain is not taking in a single word.

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