He pulled harder and the drawstring at the top of the bag loosened, spilling dirty clothes all over him as he staggered backwards into the wall. His face contorted into a mask of horror when he looked down to see a soiled sock stuck to his chest. The rest of the smelly laundry had landed on the hardwood floor.
I stared on, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Where’s that HazMat team when you need them?” He peeled off the sock and threw it down in disgust. “That’s going to take years of therapy to get over.”
“You’re in therapy?”
He laughed. “No, Daisy.” He stood up straight and glared down at the offensive pile of clothes. “Maybe burning them in the garden isn’t such a bad idea.”
“It’s all I have left of him.”
My words surprised us both. Max’s eyes filled with sympathy.
Keeping hold of Nick’s unwashed uniforms had been a new low for me.
“You’ll find someone special.” Max shook his head. “I know that’s the wrong thing to say in times like these, but it’s true.”
“Nick and I never got the chance to talk,” I admitted. “He left and didn’t give us a chance to work things out.”
“Did you try calling him?”
“He’s blocked my number.”
“Why?”
“I might have drunk-called him.”
“Don’t worry.” Max sighed. “It’ll all work out. One day you’ll find your happily ever after.”
Silence filled the room as his words echoed in my mind like an impossible promise.
“I don’t think that someone exists,” I mumbled.
“How about I talk with Nick? Get him to call you.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“It’s a better idea than keeping his laundry here waiting for his sorry ass to pick it up. It might give you some closure. I’ll tell you what, I’ll take his clothes and you watch over Pelé.”
I walked over to the figurine and picked it up. “I can do that.”
He knelt and shoved the laundry back into the bag. “I’ll be hosing myself down later.”
“Thank you for being so nice.”
He cinched the drawstring and hoisted the linen bag over his shoulder. “Being called ‘nice’ is a first,” he said, giving me a wink. “That word has never been associated with me.”
“Really?”
“No, I’m a criminal defense attorney. I eat people like you for breakfast.”
“Innocent people?”
“No, I meant…” He shook off a thought.
Was he referring to me as the enemy because I was being dealt with by him, the family lawyer? The man who knew how to make the family’s problems go away?
Max seemed to realize his mistake. “What I meant was—”
“It’s fine.” I gave a thin smile. “I’ll show you out.”
He followed me down the hallway. “This is difficult for everyone.”
“It was lovely to meet you.” At least it came off as polite.
“Feeling is mutual. I didn’t catch your last name?”
“Whitby.” I paused by the front door. “And how is this difficult for you?”
“I meant for all the parties involved.”
“I move out tomorrow. Neither you nor Nick will ever see me again.”
He followed that up with a nod of gratitude, and I decided asking for his last name was pointless.
With the front door open, I paused on the top step and let him edge by me.
“Max, will you give Nick a message?”
He stopped halfway down the path and turned to face me. “Of course.”
“Tell him I hope it all works out with Manchester United.”
His expression softened.
“Look out for your brother,” I warned.
“Always.”
There was still time to save Nick’s reputation. Maybe I was just having difficulty moving on, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that Morgan was going to be his greatest regret.
“Like you, I just want the best for him,” I added.
“I believe that, Daisy.”
I waggled Pelé’s plastic arm and faked his voice. “Don’t go accosting any more young ladies now, Max.”
Max smiled at me and then looked down at the figurine in my hand. “Watch over Daisy for me, Pelé.”
He turned away from me slowly and then strolled out the gate and over to his waiting car. He threw the dirty washing in the boot.
I returned to the sitting room and placed Pelé back in his box to keep him safe. For some reason, the room seemed even lonelier now.
Plopping down on the couch, I squeezed back tears, trying to come to terms with leaving my home, the place where I had finally felt like I belonged.
There were so many good memories here.
This breakup had happened so fast I’d not had time to process it. Now, with no TV and no Internet, I was left with nothing but my thoughts to torture me. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t read, couldn’t think straight. My body ached as though I were sick. My heart kept cycling through all the stages of loss with no end in sight. Betrayal felt like a living, breathing entity that clung to my soul. This shadow would never lift.
Nick Banham had destroyed me.
It was easy to get lost in Summerhouse, one of the largest private homes in London and home to my eccentric mum.
She and David had bought the sprawling Hampstead mansion years ago—thanks to Mum’s stellar modeling career and my stepfather’s iconic footballer status. The estate had a gym, an outdoor swimming pool, a grand ballroom, and a lush garden with a tennis court. The house was too big for a widow, but Mum seemed happy to remain here. It was where Nick had been raised. The place where all his foibles had formed.
Growing up in the shadow of two icons had clearly been a strain at times. So much so that he had kept his parents’ identities a secret—and he’d not even told Daisy, apparently. But he’d been honest with Morgan. Maybe she really was The One for him.
For me, time spent with my stepfather was pretty fantastic for a boy obsessed with football. The man who became my second father had always been kind to me, welcoming me into the family with open arms. David never treated me differently than Nick.
Fond memories of the place washed over me as I joined the hundreds of guests milling around the vast garden. We were surrounded by towering outdoor heaters, which proved the hostess had money to burn—quite literally.
“Who the hell thought a garden party in the middle of winter was a good idea?” I mumbled to myself.
“I did.” Nick’s voice piped up from behind me.
I pivoted to look at him. “Why?”
“Morgan.” He gave me a sheepish grin, admitting he was trying to impress her.
Not surprisingly, he’d dressed down in ripped jeans and a casual sweater—compared to me, who’d followed the formal dress code for his soirée. My three-piece suit felt stuffy as hell. Obviously this high-brow event was not only meant to appease Nick, guests and staff bowing down to him to impress his new girl, but to show me off as the eligible eldest son.
Nick looked me up and down. “Playing the part of gangster lawyer?”