“Sorry,” Zelda mumbled, contrite.
“Oh, I don’t know, for those of us not getting any, it creates a rather compelling visual,” Mercy said.
“For you, maybe.” Faith rolled her eyes in exaggerated patience. “He’s not your brother.”
“Enough you two.” Dawn held up her hands, acting in her familiar role as adjudicator. “Can we just focus here for a minute on something other than the compelling picture of Zelda and Faith’s hot brother bumping ugly in Sully’s basement?”
“Yes let’s,” Faith said, sounding relieved.
“Moving swiftly on.” Dawn smiled at Faith. “I just want to ask you one question, Zel. Did you at any time give Faith’s studly brother reason to believe you returned his feelings?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why not?” Dawn shot straight back. “When it’s blindingly obvious to everyone here present and anyone who has seen that photo, you are completely nuts about the guy.”
Was she? Was that why she felt so miserable? Was it possible to fall for a guy who was totally wrong for her in every conceivable way, in the space of three fricking days, when she had never fallen for anyone before? With the question came a wave of panic, very similar to the wave of panic that had assailed her the first time he’d said it.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” she said. “Or how he feels. My recovery has to come first. Always.”
“That’s true, and that’s laudable,” Dawn said. “But seriously, Zel, why does there have to be a conflict between the two?”
“Because there just is. I can’t make those sort of changes in my life without thinking it through carefully, knowing what I’m getting into, anticipating all the pitfalls.”
“Which would totally explain why you panicked when he told you how he felt. But does not explain why you’re still panicking,” Dawn commented, with razor-sharp logic and intuition. “Surely those are all things you can talk through with your sponsor Amelie? Or us? Or in your meetings? Or even with Ty?”
“Don’t sell Ty short,” Faith added. “Believe me, there’s no one better qualified to debate every nuance of your relationship in minute detail than my big brother. He lives to pick apart people’s problems and then figure out ways to solve them. It’s what he does best.”
“I know.” And she had been bound and determined to see that as a failing, when she could see now it had never been the real reason she’d flipped out. “I just… I can’t tell him how I feel…” Zelda stumbled to a halt, her throat thick with tears.
“Why can’t you?” Dawn asked. “Really?”
Dawn had her totally busted. And from the looks on her other two friends’ faces, so did they.
“I can’t because I’m scared. I’m terrified. Because I know I’ll fail. Because I’m rubbish at this stuff, and I always have been, just ask my brother. And I’m not sure I could cope if I screw this up, too.”
“Zelda, you mustn’t judge yourself because of the way your brother has failed you.” Mercy covered Zelda’s hand, and held on. “He is a deeply cynical man, who has problems of his own which he has never dealt with.” Mercy’s comment sounded heartfelt and sad, making Zelda wonder what had actually been said between Mercy and her brother upstairs.
“Seb has never appreciated your worth. If Ty does, you should give him a chance,” Mercy said, the mention of Ty’s name making all thoughts of her brother fly out of Zelda’s head. “No one’s saying it will last forever,” her friend continued. “But never underestimate how much you are capable of. You’ve proved that with everything you’ve achieved since I found you in the Pigalle five years ago. If you can do that, you can do this. It’ll take time and effort and it will be tougher for you because your recovery has to be paramount, and maybe it won’t succeed. But you’re strong enough to survive if it doesn’t. Because you’ve survived so much more. Your parents’ death, your brother’s carelessness, your addictions, the constant lies about you in the media… Don’t you see?”
The wave of gratitude overwhelmed Zelda, because for the first time, she did see. She saw herself the way Mercy and Faith and Dawn saw her. Not as a fuck up, but as a friend. And she could also see now that she’d panicked, not because Ty was a threat to her recovery, but because she had fallen so hard and fast for him, too. And because inside her still lurked that terrified, lonely child who had convinced herself all her losses were somehow her fault. And that rebellious teenager, who had believed if she stopped caring, bad stuff would stop happening.
But Mercy was right. That scared child, that reckless teenager didn’t exist anymore. Because she’d stopped running five years ago. And she did care. Enough to repair the mistakes she’d made.
Unfortunately, she could hardly tell them it was already too late to repair this. That she’d already fucked it up too much, because she’d been too scared, and too insecure to tell Ty the truth a lot sooner. And in the process she’d destroyed what chance they might have had to make their relationship work before it had even really begun.
“Thank you, Mercy. You guys…” She huffed, the pain achingly bittersweet. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
Mercy picked up a truffle, popped it in her mouth and swallowed. “That’s simple.” Her lips curved. “Without us, you’d be even more disgustingly thin.”
Chapter Thirteen
‡
Ty shoved the ball cap down as far as it would go and pushed through the press gang on the sidewalk, who were cutting off access to the steps leading up to the Madison townhouse. His insides knotted with frustration and anxiety.
This could well be the defining moment of his life. And it looked like he was going to have an audience, because there was a good chance he wasn’t even gonna get through the door.
“Hey, buddy, who the fuck are you?”