Page 43 of This Woman Forever
“I’ll speak to him.” She looks at her toast, grimaces, and places it back down. The thought of talking to her brother has obviously put her off her breakfast. “And before you start”—a halting hand comes up—“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat, baby,” I say softly.
Her hand stops mine reaching forward. “I’m not hungry,” she says again. “Can we go home now?”
What am I going to do? Make a scene over toast when I’ve just spent the best part of breakfast ensuring Ava doesn’t make a scene herself? “We can go home now.” I stand and pull her up. “Come on.” I take her shoulders and push her toward the door. “I need to find John.”
“I haven’t seen him this morning.”
No, so where is he? “You say your goodbyes, I’ll meet you out front.”
“Okay.”
I leave Ava at Sam and Kate’s table, heading through the summer room, calling John on my way. “Where are you?” I ask when he answers. I push my way into my office.
“Here.” He’s at my desk, and he looks like he’s had no sleep whatsoever. His shades are hanging under his chin. His tie loose. His suit crumpled.
“Have you been to bed?”
He lifts his eyes but not his head.
“What’s going on?” I ask, closing the door, my heart climbing into my throat. “Is it Sarah?”
He stands, going to the fridge and getting a bottle of water. “She turned up here.”
My jaw loses all control, dropping. “What?” Coral and Sarah? Jesus Christ, I’d be divorced if Ava knew.
“You were in bed. Everyone was in bed.”
In a bit of a daze, I walk to the chair and drop into it. “Drunk?”
“Smashed.”
“More than drink?”
He shrugs, unscrewing the cap of his water and glugging it back.
“Fuck,” I hiss, rubbing at my forehead. I take no pleasure from the state Sarah’s clearly in. None at all. “What did you do? Shit, John, you should have called me.”
He turns, his eyebrows slowly creeping up his forehead. Okay, yes, stupid suggestion. “I put her in my car and drove her home.”
“She let you?”
“She was hardly in any fit state to fight me off.”
“Wait, how did she get here?”
Another slow rise of his brows.
“She drove?” I balk at him. “Fucking hell.” Is she out of her mind? I pause that thought and rewind. Stupid fucking question. “She could be dead.”
“Hmmm.” John’s thoughtful as he finishes his drink and tosses the bottle in the bin. “I’m going to check up on her.”
What can I say or do? Offer to help? We both know that can’t happen, and not only because my new wife will undoubtedly tip the edge if she found out I was dealing with another woman from my past on our wedding weekend. My intervention would also mislead Sarah into thinking I care. Fuck, I do care, we all know it. But I can’t be involved anymore. I can’t.
I drop my head in my hands. “Shit.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”