Unplugged (Blue Phoenix, #3)(35)

Honey doesn’t love, she needs. What she needs could never come from me.

“I don’t love you,” I repeat. “I can’t make myself love you or pretend I do.”

She searches my face for a glimmer of emotion, but I’m locked down now, blocking her out. Allowing her in would end me right now. When Honey doesn’t see what she wants, she chooses one of her two usual reactions and crumples to the floor. The sobbing begins and she grips her hair, pulling hard.

I did this. I f-ucking did this and I want to feel nothing. I don’t want to need to comfort her and apologise; I don’t want to be the man who made things worse. But I am.

I add to this when I walk away from Honey, because if I stay the weaker, soft-hearted Liam who wants to fix the people around him will appear. And if he appears, I’ll end up back in a relationship which would kill that Liam for good.

CHAPTER 16



JUNE 10TH 2014



CERYS



Birthday balloons cover the wall, banners, and Frozen paraphernalia adorn the small house. I know I will regret this. A crowd of four year olds from Ella’s school is set to invade this afternoon. This is the first real birthday party she’s had and her excitement level is off the scale. This is a good thing because there’s no card or present from her dad. Ella hasn’t mentioned this, used to him letting her down. I quietly seethe about the man who dragged us back here professing undying love for his daughter, who now lives across the city and he sees a couple of times a month. Craig manipulated me into coming back here then left. I found the courage to call his bluff; the man had screwed with my head and heart for the last time. Shortly after Christmas, we were over.

One of the mums from school, Phoebe, has stepped in to help. Her long dark hair falls across her face as she leans over, carefully icing cupcakes in bright pink.

“How many did you say were coming?” she asks.

“God, I don’t know. Ten. Including that kid who bites.”

Phoebe rolls her brown eyes. “Fun times... We need wine!”

“Phoebe! I can’t be drunk while in charge of a children’s party.” Bloody tempting though.

“Okay, well I’ve bought a bottle for medicinal purposes for when we’re done.”

We share a giggle as I tip cheese and onion crisps into a large plastic bowl. Phoebe is one of the few friends I have outside of Craig and mine’s old social circle, and she’s been good to me since I hit single mother status.

Ella emerges in one of her Disney princess costumes, blue satin and lace, with ribbons in her brown hair.

“Aren’t you going to wear the pretty dress Grandma bought you?” I ask.

She pulls a face, mouth tugging down. “It’s itchy.”

Good thing Craig’s domineering mother, Marcella, isn’t coming to the party then. The blue velvet dress with the white lace collar is pretty but not exactly, the thing a five-year old would wear in 2014. I set plates of food on the plastic tablecloth and Ella walks over.

“Can I have a cake?”

“Just one.” If I said no, she’d take one as soon as my back’s turned.

Ella tucks into the freshly iced cupcake, smearing pink frosting around her face.

“Do you think Uncle Liam will come?” she asks.

I blink at her. How does she remember that?

“I don’t think so, Ella,” I tell her.

Her mouth turns down. “He said he’d come. He promised.”

“I know, baby, but he’s busy.”

“Who’s Liam?” asks Phoebe.

“He’s a rock star,” says Ella, and then stuffs the rest of the cake into her mouth.

Phoebe laughs. “That’s cute. Have you met a guy I don’t know about? I didn’t know you were into the local band scene although I’m glad you’re going out more. You could do with a social life.”

“No, he’s a friend from home,” I say. “Ella likes him but we’re not together.”

“Ah, I thought you were hiding something from me for a moment!” Phoebe nudges me with her elbow.

I shake my head. “Nope. If I get a new man in my life, you’ll be the first to hear.”

I can’t afford to go out. In fact, I can’t afford to do much at all. I think Craig’s mum has forced him into letting us stay in the house we once shared, for Ella’s sake, because she alluded to it the many times she’s ‘popped over’ out of the blue. Bad enough Ella is named after Marcella so I’ll always have part of her in my life, but she owns this house.

Marcella also owns the house Craig lives in — rental properties to fund her early retirement to Italy. We used to see the widowed Marcella once a week; but now Craig’s gone, the torturous trips to her house are replaced with her equally excruciating visits to ours. Visits, which include endless stories over how wonderful her son is and hint that anything wrong between me and Craig is my fault. Marcella won’t accept Craig chooses not to see Ella and the undertone of our conversation is that I stop him.

“But Liam said...” whines Ella. Is there something we genetically share that stops us forgetting about Liam?

Thankfully, the doorbell rings, and the distracted Ella runs off to greet her first guest.

Mid-way through the third ‘pass the parcel’ and third tantrum from a child who doesn’t want to let go of the newspaper wrapped bundle, and I’ve had enough. The wine is more tempting by the minute; the bottle of white beckons me each time I open the fridge for more juice. Three of the other mums have stayed and half-heartedly helped out. Their scrutiny unnerves me; and I feel like every part of my house and life are being sized up and noted.