How Good It Was, page 20
“Okay,” she said breathlessly. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I look forward to seeing you in a bikini.”
And he winked as he left the room.
14
“Oh my God. Real, hot sunshine,” Willow said, tilting her head to the sun. “I swear I can feel my skin slurping it in.”
She stood leaning against the balcony of their hotel room at the Hospes Maricel hotel overlooking the Mediterranean, her wrap-around skirt fluttering gently in the breeze, as did her hair in its messy bun. The vibrant turquoise hue of the water, as sparkling as it was, paled in comparison next to her.
When the band had talked to him that morning, the only thing he could think of was space.
Sunshine.
Fresh air.
Room to breathe.
He’d gotten paid. Enough to cover the bills and repayments, with a little extra. And his first thought was a trip for just the two of them. Break free of the heaviness and panic he’d felt that morning.
Luke wasn’t sure why making her happy felt so damn good, but it did. Her face had lit up as she packed, then repacked, then packed again. And she’d made him laugh when she’d mocked his own packing. Although two pairs of board shorts, a couple of pairs of jeans, and a handful of clean T-shirts had seemed perfectly adequate to him, she’d insisted on perusing his wardrobe five minutes before they left, pulling out a pair of black denim shorts he’d forgotten about and a couple of shirts he rarely wore. Whatever—it had made her happy to photograph their shit in the case.
It still baffled him that people were interested in video footage of their feet walking the lino’d floors of Manchester Airport, but she’d promised him she wouldn’t post anything about their trip until they were home.
And that was enough. That he got to share it with her, first, before she shared it with the rest of the world. It was a compromise he was learning to live with.
He walked over the balcony and placed his hands just beneath the bump of her stomach. He’d read somewhere it felt good when a guy took the weight of the bump, and even though Willow’s was still small, he hoped it felt as good to her as it did to him.
Holding his son and holding her in his arms was better than the sunshine.
He slid his nose against the side of her neck, trying not to relive the words he’d overheard on her call. When he’d been inspired to book the trip, he’d been excited to tell her all about it. He’d known straight away she was on a chatting with Riley. But what he’d heard had shook him.
It’s costing me a lot to be here. And I’m having a baby. When I get back, I’m going to have to buy my own house because the legal stuff with Dad may not be resolved.
When she got back. Because, in her mind, it was still a done deal. The idea he was up against a ticking clock scared him.
“It’s stunning,” she said, leaning her head back against his shoulder. “The way the hotel appears to have been created out of the cliff straight into the water.” The waves rushed up against the rocks, tossing the scent of saline in the air.
“Yeah.” He kissed her, unable to resist the long slope of her neck. They’d come here for three days to get away from stress, not bring it with him. He buried his thoughts about her leaving and focused on making the most of their time together. “Want to get changed and go sit out by the pool?”
Or stay in and check out whether the large bed clad in soft white bedding was as comfortable as it looked? He’d seen the way she’d run her fingertips over the crisp white sheets.
“Can we go for a walk? I’ve never visited Mallorca before.”
Right. Totally different kind of exercise. “How about we walk into Cala Major and grab a snack, then head back here for dinner? It’s about two kilometres, but we can always get a cab back, and it’s a coastal path most of the way.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Luke threw her camera equipment over his shoulder and led her from the room.
“I need a wide-brimmed hat,” Willow said as she paused to take photographs of the harbour littered with small boats and yachts. “I didn’t think to bring any of my own.”
“You see one as we’re walking, and we’ll grab one.” He watched as she worked. How she thought about the framing and considered shadow and light. “You’re a really good photographer.”
Her smile hit him right in his solar plexus.
“Thanks.”
When she’d finished, he took the camera from her and tossed the strap over his own shoulder. “Have you ever thought about pursuing photography outside of this? Like, setting up a studio?”
He held her firmly as they clambered over some uneven rocks. “I think there’s a bit more to being a good photographer than taking good photos.”
Luke laughed. “I can’t think of a single thing more important about being a photographer than being able to take good photos.”
Willow laughed. “You know what I mean. I have so much to learn about exposure and editing. That kind of thing.”
“Do you want to do what you’re doing now forever?”
Willow sighed and looked out over the water. “I thought I did. But I think I’d like to launch a lifestyle brand. Curate great products. Use the platform I have now to advertise them in an organic way, while I still have so much reach. I think I might look into it when this thing with Dad is resolved.”
Her fingers tightened around his, and he tugged her to his side gently. “Where is that at right now?”
“We filed paperwork to sue my dad. There’s a young actress who filed against her mom several years ago that set the precedent. Bullying, mismanagement, fraud . . . that kind of thing. Basically, Dad schemed with my accountant to exploit me for his own profit and benefit. He’s refusing to deal with me directly, citing unreasonable behaviour when we’ve spoken. It’s lies. But it’s a classic ‘he said, she said’. I’d rather focus on the stuff I can prove.”
“You’re handling it really well,” Luke said. It seemed an understatement. The first night they’d spent together, he’d thought her young. But the more time he spent with her, he realized, she just had preferences when the two of them came together in bed. She liked him to take control. But outside of sex, she had an inner strength he actually admired.
“Don’t be fooled. I have moments when I feel like anxiety is going to swallow me whole and spit me back out again.”
“Yeah. But you get up and get on with shit anyway. Doesn’t it feel like a chore?”
“It does.” She shrugged. “But I’ve been reading these books, lots of them. I have a choice in how I feel about what needs doing. I can get upset, I can cry, I can ask myself, why me? Why can’t I catch a break? Or I can look at whatever it is that needs doing, tell myself I’m capable, that I’ve never let myself down yet, and get on with it. In the end, it gets done, the difference is how I feel while doing it.”
Luke thought about looking after Izabel. “That makes sense. How do you get from one place to another?”
“Mentally?”
“Yeah. Like. How do you switch from one mindset to the other?”
“Honestly? I literally ask myself, out loud, if possible, how do I choose to feel about this? That’s it. If I can’t change it, and it’s gnarly, and it has to get done, I just force myself to choose. To breathe. To relax my shoulders.”
He dropped his own at her words, aware the conversation was close to making him feel emotionally incompetent. “I want to do all that,” he said.
“Just choose, Luke. How often do you look back, specifically at something that was tough that you survived, and think how good it was for you in the long-term? How much it taught you? How much better you know yourself now?”
He was still noodling her words hours later when they climbed into a taxi to take them back to the hotel. Was it possible to choose how you felt? It felt like his feelings had always chosen him. Or maybe it was just the way he was looking at the circumstances of his life. The creep of panic rose in his throat, and he opened the taxi window wide.
“Are you okay?” Willow asked.
“Yeah, good. Why?” He forced the words out, over the panic. He breathed like Ben had said. Five in. Five out.
“Your hand just went clammy and you look a little grey.”
Yeah. No. He was not having a panic attack in front of Willow. “Maybe a little carsick. I don’t like traveling in the back of the car.”
“Oh, do you want to stop and get in the front? I don’t mind sitting back here by myself.”
The hotel came into view around the bend. “No. No. I’m good.”
He paid the taxi driver and then hurried them both up to the room. Once inside, he led her to the bed. “Get comfortable. I’ll just need a minute in the bathroom.”
“Take your time,” Willow said, concern lacing her words. “Why don’t you take one of the waters with you, just in case?”
He grabbed one and placed it on the counter in the bathroom before locking the bathroom door and sliding down against it.
Why couldn’t he look back at what had happened in his life without freaking out? Why couldn’t he think about changing the way he viewed the world without spinning out of control?
When he felt like he had his legs beneath him again, he stripped and stepped beneath the shower, turning the taps until it was ice cold. The frigid water chased away the remnants of his panic attack. Once he had a towel tucked around his waist, he brushed his teeth and studied his own reflection.
What was it his father had said?
Still waters run deep.
That’s how he’d been until his father’s death. Then, he’d fought. He’d been out of control. If the band went out for a night, he’d fight. Shit, he’d fought everything. What had happened to his dad. To his mum. Matt and Iz getting together. It was like he expected everything to be hard. Was that all he was doing now? Fighting something.
He picked up his clothes and walked back into the hotel room, where Willow was standing out on the balcony.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked as he joined her.
He wanted a cigarette. Wanted to be on his own.
No. He didn’t.
He needed someone to hold on to. “Much. Come here.”
Luke opened his arms and Willow stepped into them. The warmth of her heated his chilled bones. For a moment, he considered telling her, spilling his guts until she knew everything. But he wasn’t ready for that.
Yet.
Stars twinkled in the ink-blue sky, the shush of the waves the only sound. Peace wasn’t something he realised he missed until he experienced it. It left him with a sense of wonder, with space to actually create something without having to refer to the noise that always filled his head.
He stood holding on to Willow like she was driftwood in his swirling ocean. A way to keep his head above water while he was buffeted from all sides.
From within.
“I suppose I should keep my distance a little,” she said, pulling away from him. “If you are sick sick, not car sick, I might catch it, and I’m not sure how good for the baby that would be.”
Finally, he released her. “Let’s get some sleep, flower.”
Disappointed in himself, he led her to the bed he’d mentally made plans for all day. The two of them, a warm sea breeze, naked bodies.
But now, there was no way they could do that. She was right. If he was sick, she should keep her distance. Only he knew he wasn’t. But telling her what was wrong, was far more painful than spending a night without her in his arms.
At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself of as they drifted asleep on opposite sides of the bed.
Luke perched on a rocky outcrop and watched Willow take pictures of the bay and harbour. There was something quite captivating about her when she worked. She was truly happy with what she did. And now he understood just how much work was involved, he’d stopped thinking of content creation and being an influencer as an easy career. There were hours plotting out themes, stories, and content. Hour spent editing and posting and commenting.
She was building something real. Hell, with as many followers as she had, perhaps it was already built. And maybe joy came from reaping the rewards of that kind of effort.
The dress she wore kept whipping up with the breeze blowing in off the water. Her bump looked bigger, and she looked . . . glowing.
Beautiful.
And right at this minute, he felt the same peace he’d felt on the balcony the previous night. Words would change that, but he’d decided at some point during the early hours of the morning that he needed to be honest with her. And by being honest, perhaps he’d give them a better foundation to build the two of them and their relationship on.
Because what kind of father would he be if simply thinking about the future led him to panic?
Luke grabbed a white pebble from the ground and rubbed it between his thumb and finger. It was smooth, perfect, and, hopefully, lucky.
Let her be okay with this.
Willow stood suddenly, pressed her hand to her stomach, then grinned before carefully stepping over the uneven rocks to get to him.
“I just felt Cletus.” She pressed her hand to her stomach again. “He’s moving, Luke. I can’t feel it outside, but I can feel it inside and it’s the weirdest yet most amazing thing.” Laughter laced her words, and her smile reached her eyes.
“You did?” Luke placed his hand over hers, even though she’d told him she couldn’t feel it outside. Yet. He’d been reading a book about when he’d be able to, and knew it would be a while before he could share the experience with her.
“Yeah. I can’t tell you what it was. Hand? Foot, maybe. Possibly hiccups because I know you can supposedly feel that at eighteen weeks.”
He gently tugged her down next to him. “He’s letting us know he’s there.”
“Which is a good thing, right?”
Luke faced her, took in the way wisps of her messy bun fluttered in the wind, the way her eyes shone brighter than they had in days, and the way her lips curved in a smile.
The sunshine and lazy days had done wonders for both of them.
“It’s a very good thing.”
She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder as they listened to the lapping of waves in the marina. Sun warmed their skin, soaking in all the vitamin D they didn’t get in the grey of Manchester.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, tossing the pebble into the water with his free hand.
“Of course.”
Luke focused on the gentle waves. “I wasn’t sick last night. I had a panic attack.”
“Oh, Luke,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. “Why? Are you okay?”
He was glad he wore sunglasses, thankful for the thin piece of tinted material giving him the courage to continue. Luke sucked in a deep breath. Then, another. “Can I just ramble? Because if I think about it too hard, I might have another.”
Willow rearranged herself on their rock so she faced him, shifting her hand to his leg. “Say whatever you need to say.”
“They started a few weeks ago. I don’t say this so you think it’s your fault. I think part of it is stopping using drugs. Anxiety can be a side effect of coming off coke. I didn’t think I was an addict, but I think my body is telling me different. Plus, there’s shit I need to deal with that is connected to what’s going on here. It doesn’t mean this is a bad thing, it just means I get stressed. Yeah, panicked. I think that’s the best way to describe it.”
“I’m sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean for this to cause you panic attacks. They’re no fun.”
He focused on the way she stroked his leg, a slow and steady back-and-forth that kept his pulse even.
“You didn’t cause it. Alex said something the other day when it happened in front of the band. He said I should speak to someone. And I’m starting to think I should too. I want to be happy with you, Willow. You and our son. And want it to be more than a contract. But I realise I’ve got defences up, and when I try to talk about taking them down, I panic. And it’s not just you. It’s every facet of my life.”
“Can you expand on what you mean without . . .?”
Her eyes never left his and finding the confidence from her touch and kisses, he lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and looked at her. “Without panicking?”
“Yes.”
Luke sat up, and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of her hand softly. “The first time, the band staged an intervention of sorts, to get me to be honest about shit. And Jase asked me if I was fine with a gorgeous woman asking me to pretend to be in love with her so she could save her career, then fuck off back to America and take my kid with her?”
“Luke, no matter what happens to us, you’ll never be out of our lives if you don’t want to be.”
He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. “I know, but I panicked, and I think I misread what it was. And then, it happened again when I was telling them about the ultrasound and what it meant, and I wanted to see a vision of the three of us in the future, happy somewhere, and I couldn’t. Like, I could see you and a little boy on a beach in Malibu, and I could see me here. But not together. Fuck.”
He breathed deeply, and Willow rummaged around in her tote bag. “Here,” she said, thrusting the bottle of water into his hand. “Drink this and just breathe for a few minutes.”
It felt like that was what everybody wanted him to do. Just breathe while iron bars were squeezing his chest. Willow placed her hand on his back, circling softly. He inhaled and exhaled in time to each circle.
“Then, last night,” he began.
“You don’t need to tell me just now.”
“No, I need to get it out, flower. You asked how often do you look back, specifically at something that was tough that you survived, and think how good it was. How much it taught you? How much better you know yourself now? And I feel like all that happened . . . I never had time to process any of it. I just had to get on with it. So, I think I shut down a little. Hell, a lot.”
Willow took his hand this time and kissed it before holding it in her lap. “I think talking to someone is a great idea. You need to have a safe space to talk about it, with someone who can navigate questions while recognising what triggers you.”
