The Problem With Heartache (40 page)

“When will you know more about your dad?” she asked in a quiet voice, so low I leaned in a little closer to reply.

“We don’t know. The doctors are monitoring him … but he’s just not …” I pressed my lips together and brought my hand to my nose, my index finger and thumb pressing against my bridge. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweets. It’s okay.” Stacey sat there in silence as I tried to compose myself. God. What was I going to do if …

“I just … Stacey, I c … can’t.” I wiped a tear away and my shoulders shook as another onslaught of emotion overtook me. My dad couldn’t die. He just couldn’t. I checked my watch for the time. Only twenty minutes till I had to leave to see him. Mum and I had decided shifts were the best way to go, so someone could be there if he woke up.

When
he woke up.

Right?

More tears flooded me, and I brought my hands to my face, hiding from the world.

“The sun’ll come out … tomorrow … bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow … there’ll be sun …”

I stopped.
What the hell?

“Just thinkin’ about … tomorrow …”

I looked up. Stacey was singing. Singing, some crazy musical tune to me. Out of key.

“What are you—”

“Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow … till there’s none.”

Now people from nearby tables had turned to look at us.

“This is gonna continue until you start smiling,” Stacey warned me, and a tiny smile played on my lips. “Stacey …”

“When I’m stuck with a day …” Stacey got to her feet, her voice louder now. “That’s grey! And lonely!” This note she howled, yodelling across the café. “I just stick up my chin, and grin, and say … oh!” The note was so high, it crossed the line between singing and canine communication.

That did it. It broke me, and I burst into laughter as a guy in a black shirt and an apron came over to ask her to please keep it down, as she was disturbing the other patrons.

By this stage, Stacey and I had dissolved into fits of laughter, and she joined me back at the table, sticking her tongue out at one lady who was still giving her a disapproving look.

“Thanks, Stace.” I smiled at her. She just got me. She knew how to make me smile.

“It’s cool.” She shrugged. “So long as you know that when you want to be sad, I’m here for that, too. I just …” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I thought you could use a laugh. After all, we’re at Lachlan’s café. Looking at the positives is what his life was about.”

We sat in silence for a few moments more, drinking our warm beverages and people-watching.

“Stace … I’m so sorry about …” I bit my lip. “… your baby.”

A cloud flashed over Stacey’s eyes, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. “It’s … it’s fine.” She gave a sad shake of her head. “It’s … I know it’s nothing like what you went through with Lachlan, but it still hurts, you know?”

“I do.” I reached across the table and took her hand. “Do you think you’ll try have a baby … again?”

“One day, for sure.” Stacey nodded. “Honestly, I felt so complete when I thought of being a mum. But I need more time to let go of this one first.”

Her words rang through me. I knew exactly what she meant.

“What are you going to do about Lee?” she asked me. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

I studied my own latte, the milky-brown colour that filled the glass in front of me. “I do. But …”

“Lachlan?”

“Not … not really.” I pursed my lips. It actually felt good to admit it. “God, Stace, I still miss him. I miss him like crazy, and I still have feelings for him; I think I always will. I just … it’s like I have room inside me to care for someone else now, you know? Room to … move. And the guilt I felt, when I thought I was replacing him, forgetting him?” Stacey gestured for me to go on. “That’s kind of … it’s not there as much anymore.”

Stacey nodded sagely and reached across the table to give my shoulder a squeeze. I knew that Stacey understood.

“Lee doesn’t have that room to care yet, though. I think he’s still in love—maybe with the idea of being in love? I’m not entirely sure. All I know is that he can’t move on until he lets go of the past.” I pursed my lips together.

“Five years, huh?” Stacey took a sip of her chai latte. “You’re a hell of a lot more emotionally connected than he is.”

I smirked, and we shared a moment. A moment where for just one teeny, tiny snatch of time, we weren’t hanging out to discuss all the things going wrong with my world. “So, tell me about you and Michael. All good?”

“Sure is.” Stacey widened her eyes. “I’ve just about finished this semester and am thinking I might fly over and surprise him next time he goes on tour, y’know? I mean, after he comes back next week.”

“You have the money to do that?”

“Abso-freaking-lutely.” Stacey gave a smug smile. “I’ve gotten in touch with my spiritual side, Kate.”

“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes.

“Seriously! I have strong psychic abilities. I’ve been taking clients, and let me tell you, pet psychics do good business.”

I shook my head, but I laughed. Her enthusiasm was kinda contagious.

Then I paused. “Stace, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” I studied her as she tucked a lock of her short dark blonde hair behind her ear, biting her lip.

“I … I don’t know exactly what I believe, but I know there’s something.” She slowly nodded, her hands twisting around her mug. “I’m not kidding, Kate; I really do have communication with spirits. I could try and talk to Lach—”

“Gosh no!” I interrupted, eyes wide.

“Thank God you said that, I was so worried,” Stacey blurted out, and I smiled. “Seriously, though, I do believe there’s something. We don’t just cease.” She stretched her hand across the table and took mine in it. “And even when we’re gone, our memory lives on—”

“In the memory of others,” I finished for her, and we smiled, but there wasn’t any mockery behind it. This time, it was genuine.

Four months ago …

“I
F YOU
ask me, this is just a bullshit excuse to see some strippers.” Xander slapped my back.

“Man, I told you, it’s not like that.” I gave a light laugh. “These girls just need a break. I bet some of them are just doing this ’cause of the money.”

“And some because they lurrrve getting their tits out.” Xander laughed, and I smirked along with him. Hiring dancers to add some extra appeal to our act had been Tony’s idea. Making them strippers had been mine.
If I could just change one person’s life for the better …

“Hi there, handsome.” A topless waitress winked at Xander as we walked past, headed for a table near the front. Xander’s legs followed me but his eyes stayed firmly fixed on the woman. I shook my head. At least it was dark in here, and the club was closed. We’d entered through a secret elevator from the upstairs hotel; no media would know we were here. Hell, they’d even dimmed the club lighting so the girls on stage wouldn’t know we were who we were. It was just the way Tony liked it …

Xander and I sat at a small table down the front. Seconds later, Boobs placed two beers in front of us, and a bottle of top-shelf bourbon with some glasses and ice behind that. “Can I get you anything else to drink?” She batted her eyelashes.

“I wouldn’t mind sucking on your—”

“We’re good.” I shot Xander a murderous glare, but he just laughed it off.

“We’ll have our first dancers out in three minutes for you. They’ll do an intro number, then you can see their solo performances. And if you’d like any private numbers …” She didn’t need to say anymore. Even if she hadn’t mentioned it, we would have known. When you’re at the top, you rarely need to ask for special favours. It just seemed to go with the territory.

“So what do you think of Michael?” Xander asked, taking one of the beers and knocking back a sip.

“He’s cool,” I said. “I can’t believe it’s been … God, almost five months already. That flew.”

“Sure did.” Xan nodded. “Personally, I can’t believe how long it’s been since you’ve been laid.”

“Dude, give it a rest …”

“All I’m saying is, it’s not natural. I’m all for the single life—I don’t think you’re wrong for not wanting a relationship—but you know you’re allowed to indulge in some pussy, right?”

It was my turn to take a sip of beer. It was nothing I hadn’t heard from him before. “You know I’m not interested in anything serious.”

“I don’t know exactly what happened with Carly, but you gotta let it go, man. It’s time.”

I was standing, hovered over him, before he could get another word out. “You don’t know anything about what happened with Carly,” I hissed. It had been four years, but the pain was still there. Somewhere in the world, I had a nephew or a niece, a son or a daughter. And I had thrown that away. Right around the time when I’d killed my brother and ruined my parents’ relationship.

Xander looked up at me, took another sip of beer. His eyes were dead calm as he said, “The show’s started.”

I heaved in a deep breath and turned around, sinking into the slouched leather seat. Girls strutted onto the stage, some twirling around poles, some moving their bodies in time to the music, their hands running up their legs, over the bodies. One woman in front of us threw off her top and it landed on my lap, her tits jiggling as she spun around the pole, making the sort of crazy shapes with her legs that left little wonder as to how flexible she’d be in bed.

To her left was another girl, her back to us. She was in nothing but a G-string, shaking her ass from side to side as she swirled those hips, around and around. She reached behind her back and unclipped her top, turning toward us as she got ready to throw it over her shoulder.

The first thing I saw were her boobs. Big, voluptuous, and round.

The second thing I saw was her face.

Carly.