Peter hated that pounding in the gym didnât help anything. It was usually his cover all; screw up and the gym would take away the pain. In truth, he had been useless since returning from Stockholm, and nothing else had helped. He was racked with guilt on so many levels, and he wasnât managing to deal with any of it. Increasing the speed on his treadmill he rasped for breath and for a moment the aerobic demands of the exercise blocked almost all thoughts. But he couldnât maintain it. Slowing to a jog he allowed reality to creep back in.
Guilt! The greatest pain.
Where did he start? Leading Alexis on? That was unforgiveable, he KNEW things couldnât go further, then he slept with her! And whilst it was amazing heâd gone in with no forethought, without even thinking about taking her virginity. Heâd behaved like a bloody hormone driven teenager! A beautiful vivacious woman saving herself for the right man, the right time, such a rarity in this world of promiscuity, and heâd ruined her when sheâd fallen into a short lived fling with him.
, that voice kept telling him, but he knew that it wouldnât go further; he just hoped one day sheâd forgive him. Maybe that would be feasible if he hadnât then ignored her, pretended she didnât exist the very next day. He didnât think heâd do that, but when Oliver had catapulted straight into his life hours after his daughter had shared her bed with him, well it had been the biggest wakeup call of all. What the hell had he done?
Sorted out things with her? He shook his head in frustration and self loathing, nope, heâd continued to ignore her, Oliver was there, needing his help and he whilst could barely look at the older man for the guilt he felt at deflowering his daughter, that had been his choice, his loyalty. He hated himself for that, but he did it, managing to converse with Oliver as though he hadnât committed the most heinous crime.
Heâd barely slept since. Usually skiing helped, but two days in the mountains resolved nothing. He was unable to concentrate on work, let alone anything else. His punishment to himself was to flog himself into the ground in his basement gym. It was only when the adrenaline kicked in that he stopped worrying and could change his focus, change his thoughts. Temporarily.
This current run had come after the hardest weights program he knew, and before that heâd cycled until he felt like collapsing. And nothing had changed. This was one time when he couldnât hide from himself.
As he emerged from the basement he threw his sodden t-shirt into the laundry then climbed the stairs to find a drink, it was then he heard the doorbell ring, and ring, and ring.
Rubbing a towel over his face and neck he called out, "Ok ok ! Iâm coming!" In both languages as he had no idea who the caller was and what language they spoke. Not that he had a huge amount of visitors.
Wiping the streams of sweat from his eyes, he unlocked the door and swung it open, then felt his jaw drop; his mouth gape wide, not even the arctic blast to his sweat soaked body penetrated his level of shock.
There stood Alexis, wrapped up in a knitted beret and matching scarf, her cheeks red from the cold. She wasnât smiling, but then he hardly expected her to be.
"Alexis! What are you doing here?" he gasped still unable to believe his eyes. Seeing her here in his world was disorientating. He was a man who liked to compartmentalise things.
"I wanted to talk to you." Her voice was quiet, but it caused him to erupt in goose bumps, and he suddenly realised he was half naked.
âCome in...I need to keep the cold out.â He gestured with an arm, and when she moved into the hall he closed the door firmly. "Why didnât you phone?"
She laughed ironically shaking her head, "Peter you can barely look me in the eye, youâd never answer a call from me! And I DID try, in Stockholm, for what good it did me."
He nodded slowly, "I suppose youâre right."
At least he had the good manners to look awful, and whilst she was glad about that, it didnât make things any easier. "All I want to know is - why did you ignore me? Act as though I donât exist? Tell me that and Iâll leave you alone." It was a half lie, but she hoped that once he started talking they could work things out, decipher what had gone wrong.
He sighed, "youâd better sit down." He led her into a huge lounge, dominated by huge glass windows, she could see
She shook her head, "Iâm not here for niceties and Iâm not some psycho stalker whoâs going to follow you everywhere, I want answers, Iâm not interested in sitting and making small talk. If you donât like me, donât want me, then Iâll walk away. But I at least deserve to know whatâs happening, what went wrong."
He looked at her, holding up her jaw in a gesture that was more bravery than arrogance, she looked divine. Those long legs suited knee high boots, and her long coat almost met the top of them. She was a perfect package, and would be any sane manâs dream, but not his. She couldnât be his.
âDo you want a drink?â
Again she shook her head, "Iâd rather not. Please just tell me and I can leave."
He groaned, she was staring at him from her huge doe eyes, and he could see how much he was hurting her, but there was no plan B, "You want a word, a reason.....thereâs no one thing Alexis. I canât do a relationship; Iâm too selfish, too busy, too egotistical. You deserve more!"
Shaking her head she marched past him, âthis is ridiculous, you donât get to choose what happens to me. If you donât want me then say that YOU donât want ME. Donât give me some martyrdom bullshit, that youâre doing the right thing by me, because thatâs what it is! Bullshit!â
"It wonât work Alexis. It really wonât. Weâre in different circles, different places in our lives..."
"Crap and you know it! We had a great time in Stockholm, we talked, we laughed, without the sex...I think that means itâs worth trying to see where this goes. How can you just turn your back on me?"
He shook his head, defeated.
"You donât agree?" Anger was spurring her on, and she now hated the way he avoided her eyes, and avoided answering her.
"I enjoy your company."
"But you wonât commit to the odd weekend, visits every now and again? That doesnât make sense." She tensed her fists at her side, she was so tempted to lash out and hit him.
"I canât be that for you sweetheart, I really canât. And you deserve more..." he finally met her eyes with his.
"Donât stand there and throw empty gestures, token affectionate terms of endearment at me, and donât presume you know whatâs best for me. Iâm not proposing marriage; I was thinking phone calls, the odd weekend here and there. You know long distance dating? Thereâs no way that can be against your rules. "
He sighed, "look, I canât give you a false hope because I like you and I couldnât bear to hurt you."
She looked at him, still sweating from his workout, with hair stuck to his head, rosy complexion, damp naked chest and he still made her heart race, "too late Peter. Youâve just done that.....again."
Alexis turned, not giving him time to register, and she was gone, out into the street.
Peter sat awake all night. No amount of whisky would take away the image of her sad face as sheâd disappeared into the night. She was right, he did need to grow some balls, heâd failed to explain himself to her, but how did you explain something you hadnât truly understood yourself? Every time he thought of Alexis, he remembered the conversation heâd overheard all those years ago between Oliver and Chris, the other intern working with him on that project. Those words, those condemnations had cut him to the core, and scared him. And it hadnât taken Oliverâs warning half an hour earlier to make him run away from Alexis; he was already on his way out of their lives by then.
It was well after midnight when he phoned all the major hotels in Geneva, none of them had Alexis registered there. Ransacking his wallet he called the number sheâd given him when they were in Stockholm, but it went straight to answer phone, he emailed her, but there was no response. He tried everything bar calling her father, as he really couldnât do that. And so he let her walk away...again, like the bastard everyone thought he was.
Her image haunted him; the sight of her forlorn and sad on his doorstep was there every time he closed his eyes. As the hours turned into days, approached weeks, she still failed to answer a phone call, or respond to the emails he sent. And as the time passed he realised heâd lost the chance to have ANY sort of relationship with Alexis, and it hurt.
Struggling to motivate himself for anything, he flitted between his mountain home and the city, usually snow sports inspired him, cheered him up, but this was different. He took to the most difficult black runs, risking his life, pushing himself beyond the realms physically. And whilst he survived he had no pleasure in it.
A few weeks later he was summonsed to a huge meeting in London, heâd produced a paper a few years ago and it was being questioned by a group of students at LSE, and as part of the college alumni he had agreed to go to the debate.
He still had a small apartment in London, and it had been a long time since heâd been to the capital. Peter had loved London, several years ago it had been his home, but six years earlier heâd left. And it had been jaded in his memory since.
For some reason now he felt sad returning. That was a first. Sat at his laptop he checked out the agenda for the next two days, it was hectic, but well organised. And it was the first night that he slept without the need for alcohol.
The morning debate was great, he relished the mental stimulation, and there were some real smart students who challenged him.
Since heâd agreed to come on the trip heâd considered contacting Oliver, but had bottled it every time, but as he thought of another night alone in his rather sterile home, he plucked up the courage to drop him an email as the first day came to a close. He got an almost immediate reply suggesting a meet in a London hotel bar that evening.
"Peter!" the familiar boom of Oliver Carmichael echoed across the quiet bar. "Itâs been SO long!"
The older man stood as Peter approached and their handshake became a hug of sorts. "Oliver. Stockholm was only a few weeks ago!"
"I know, but I barely saw you there. And itâs been a long time since we sat like this, over a good quality malt!" He pushed a glass in front of the younger man, then topped it up from the bottle that sat between them. It wasnât every man who got given the bottle in a bar like this, Oliver was both a regular, and well respected there.
Peter nodded and took the glass, chinking it against Oliverâs with a silent âcheersâ.
"So tell me about Geneva!" Oliver smiled, sitting back to look at the younger man.
Peter smiled, swirling the dark liquid around his glass, âItâs good, the skiing is awesome. You should bring Rosa over sometime, the shopping, everything is great!!"
Oliver nodded knowingly, "sounds good! I was glad to see you made Stockholm; you seem to shun all the âindustryâ
! I know theyâre tedious, but the more of us that go, the better they are! Thatâs fact!"
Peter nodded, "I get that, but I just want to get on with things, work, you know? These pompous occasions do nothing for me! If you hadnât personally invited me Iâd never have gone!"
Oliver grinned, "Well then Iâm glad I did!" he sipped his drink. "So did you see much of Alexis there?"
It was the question that Peter had dreaded, and he almost choked on his drink, he wanted nothing more than to discuss her, to the right person, and her father wasnât it, and the fact that Oliver had initiated the conversation worried him. Did he know? Had Alexis confided in him?
He felt the beads of sweat accumulate on his brow as he shrugged, "I had a few drinks with her. Sheâs grown up well Oliver!"
Her father nodded, "not quite the besotted school girl now hey?"
It was the first reference to that awkward summer that the older man had made, and Peter smiled awkwardly. Oliver took the silence as a gesture to continue, "she was in a right old tizzy when I got back. She had wanted to bum around Mexico of all places after finishing school and had got involved with a worthless oike. Needless to say she didnât appreciate my interference!" He guffawed at his own behaviour and it made Peter feel awkward.
"Well I suppose she is an adult now,â he murmured.
Oliver smiled, "sheâll always be my baby girl, and Iâd do time rather than see her end up with someone like him!"
Peterâs heart seemed to skip a beat and he managed to control the rhythm of his breathing, what would the other man think if he knew?
"Anyway since we came back sheâs moved out, and sheâs been staying with Hen. I called a couple of days ago and sheâd literally just left on a plane, sheâs gone to work in the in Rio. Just like that!â He clicked his fingers. âDidnât even say goodbye. Did she seem out of sorts to you? In Stockholm?"
Peter was cautious, nervous the last thing he needed was to implicate himself in the family feud, though it as quite likely his fault. "She seemed fine. Sheâs gone overseas? For how long?"
Oliver nodded, "Iâm not happy, but as you say sheâs an adult. But yes, sheâs taken some voluntary post in a medical centre outside of Rio. Dealing with gangs, shootings, drugs...who knows what? I managed to speak to one of the headâs of the charity, so Iâve been assured sheâs safe...but you never know, do you?"
Peter continued to sip his drink thoughtfully, "so what are you going to do?"
"Learn from my mistakes? Henrietta knows where she is, and will keep in touch, so Iâll have to just let it go I suppose. Wait for her to come back. Then talk to her, understand what I did wrong.â
They talked for several hours, but Peterâs mind was on Alexis, sheâd come to him, heart on her sleeve and heâd point blank pushed her away. Now all he could do was worry about her being away from home, in potentially dangerous situations. And it was all his fault.