I shrug and laugh at the same time. “Well, if my life wasn’t falling apart enough…”
“You didn’t get the loan?” Tyler’s voice is filled with concern.
“No, I didn’t get the stupid loan.” I turn my back toward him, haul his duffle bag from the floor and sling it onto the bed. “As I said, you have a plane to catch, and I have to leave for work.”
Tyler sits up, the strong scent of vomit wafting up from the sheets. “Shit, Chelsea, what happened last night?”
I laugh, this time louder. “I don’t know, Tyler, where do I begin? You threw a party until five o’clock in the morning. We got robbed, our TV is smashed. They took our Paris fund, my jewellery…”
Tyler stands and attempts to wrap his arm around me.
“Don’t,” I say, holding up both hands, signalling that I need space. “As if I wasn’t nervous enough this morning, with nothing to wear I had to rush to my sister’s house just so I could borrow an outfit.”
“I’ll replace it, all of it.”
I shake my head. “There are just some things money can’t replace. Like my grandmother’s gold brooch.”
“I’m so sorry. I will make it up to you, I promise. Please don’t hate me.” Tyler juts his bottom lip out while at the same time holding his palms together as if praying.
“I could never hate you. You’ve been my rock. But right now, that rock is nowhere in sight and I’m drowning.”
Tyler flashes a glance at my hands, hands that are red raw and throb with pain. “Tell me you haven’t? We worked so hard with your therapist to cure you of your OCD.”
I bite back a laugh, because he must know as well as I do that OCD cannot be cured. There isn’t a magic switch that I can just flick on and off. The need to clean and keep cleaning is always there. So long as everything in my life is on track, my cleaning demons are kept at bay. When my life falls apart, the demons return. For how long depends on how quickly I can regain control.
“It’ll be okay,” I say and nod my head. “It was just a blip. Now come on, you have a plane to catch.”
I turn and leave the room.
“Love you, darlin’,” Tyler calls after me.
I stop and wrap my arms around my chest. “I love you too. I just don’t like you very much at the moment.”
Floorboards creak, and I can sense him drawing near. “We’re okay though, aren’t we?” His voice breaks with emotion, and I can hear the uncertainty in his tone. “Tell me we’re okay?”
I blow out and give his question some thought. Part of me wants to say no and teach him a lesson. But then I remember that Tyler is catching a flight to America, and after the sale of the building I don’t know if he’ll come back. I’d never part ways on bad feeling, so for this reason alone I nod. I rest my chin on my shoulder, offering him my profile. “Of course we are okay. Now get showered.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it free and leave the room while trying to convince myself that the day can’t possibly get any worse. Then the Devil’s name flashes on the screen.
My shoulders slump as I answer. “Lucian—”
“Chelsea, hi. I’m just calling to check in with you.”
“Check in with me?” I walk into the living room, picking up cans and bottles along the way, and toss them into a bin bag.
“I woke up to several messages complaining about the noise last night. I come here this morning to find the shop has two smashed windows.”
My palms become clammier the longer I’m in the flat. There is just so much dirt, so much clutter. The phone shakes in my hand, and without thinking I cut the call. I glance around at all the mess. My OCD is demanding that I clean, but I know that once I start, I won’t be able to stop. My fingers itch to grab the bleach, the hoover, anything.
Remembering the techniques my therapist taught me, I try to push the overwhelming urge to the back of my mind and prioritize what is important. I can’t lose my job, I need it now more than ever seeing as the bank refused to lend me the money I need to open my salon.
The mess isn’t going anywhere, it isn’t going to get worse. Nothing bad is going to happen. I can clean when I get back,I say over and over in my mind. I take a slow and controlled breath in and head for the door. Exhaling slowly, I pull down the handle and come face to face with Lucian.
The intensity of his gaze leaves me speechless. A few seconds pass before I muster the confidence to speak. “I’m sorry about the window, but I can’t talk now. I have to go to work.”
Lucian smiles knowingly. “Then we shall continue our conversation there.”
I fling my arms out in question. “Why are you stalking me?”