Still Me (Me Before You #3)

‘Great,’ I said. And then he was asleep.

I couldn’t face another evening of scrolling through my phone so I got up quietly, left him a note and headed out. I felt miserable and oddly angry. Why had he eaten something that had given him food poisoning? Why couldn’t he make himself better quicker? He was a paramedic after all. Why couldn’t he have picked a nicer hotel? I walked down Sixth Avenue, my hands thrust deep into my pockets, the traffic blaring around me, and before long I found myself headed towards home.

Home.

With a start, I realized that was how I now thought of it.

Ashok was under the awning, chatting to another doorman, who moved away as soon as I approached.

‘Hey, Miss Louisa. Aren’t you meant to be with that boyfriend of yours?’

‘He’s sick,’ I said. ‘Food poisoning.’

‘You’re kidding me. Where is he now?’

‘Sleeping. I just … couldn’t face sitting in that room for another twelve hours.’ I felt suddenly, oddly, close to tears. I think Ashok could see it because he motioned me to come in. In his little porter’s room he boiled a kettle and made me a mint tea. I sat at his desk and sipped it, while he peered out now and then to make sure Mrs De Witt wasn’t around to accuse him of slacking. ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘why are you on duty? I thought it was the night guy.’

‘He’s sick too. My wife is super mad at me right now. She’s meant to be at one of her library meetings but we don’t have anybody to look after the kids. She says if I spend one more of my days off here she’s going to have a word with Mr Ovitz herself. And nobody wants that.’ He shook his head. ‘My wife is a fearsome woman, Miss Louisa. You do not want to upset my wife.’

‘I’d offer to help. But I think I’d better go back and check on Sam.’

‘Be sweet,’ he said, as I handed him his mug. ‘He came a long way to see you. And I can guarantee he is feeling way worse than you are right now.’

When I got back to the room, Sam was awake, propped up on pillows and watching the grainy television. He looked up as I opened the door.

‘I just went for a walk. I – I –’

‘Couldn’t face one more minute stuck in here with me.’

I stood in the doorway. His head was sunk into his shoulders. He looked pale and unutterably depressed.

‘Lou – if you knew how hard I’m kicking myself –’

‘It’s fi—’ I stopped myself just in time. ‘Really,’ I said. ‘We’re good.’

I ran him a shower, made him get in and washed his hair, squeezing the last out of the tiny hotel bottle, then watched the suds slide down the huge slope of his shoulders. As I did he reached up, took my hand silently and kissed the inside of my wrist softly, a kiss of apology. I placed the towel over his shoulders and we made our way out to the bedroom. He lay back on the bed with a sigh. I changed out of my clothes and lay down beside him, wishing I didn’t still feel so flat.

‘Tell me something about you that I don’t know,’ he said.

I turned towards him. ‘Oh, you know everything. I’m an open book.’

‘C’mon. Indulge me.’ His voice was low against my ear. I couldn’t think of anything. I still felt really oddly annoyed about this weekend even though I know that’s unfair of me.

‘Okay,’ he said, when it was clear I wasn’t going to speak. ‘I’ll start then. I am never eating anything but white toast again.’

‘Funny.’

He studied my face for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was unusually quiet. ‘And things haven’t been easy at home.’

‘What do you mean?’

It took a minute before he spoke again, as if he wasn’t sure even then if he should. ‘It’s work. You know, before I got shot I wasn’t afraid of anything. I could handle myself. I guess I reckoned I was a bit of a tough guy. Now, though, what happened, it’s at the back of my mind all the time.’

I tried not to look startled.

He rubbed at his face. ‘Since I’ve been back I find myself assessing situations as we go in … differently, trying to work out exit routes, potential sources of trouble. Even when there’s no reason to.’

‘You’re frightened?’

‘Yeah. Me.’ He laughed drily, and shook his head. ‘They’ve offered me counselling. Oh, I know the drill from when I was in the army. Talk it through, understand it’s your mind’s way of processing what happened. I know it all. But it’s disconcerting.’ He rolled onto his back. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t feel like myself.’

I waited.

‘That’s why it hit so hard when Donna left because … because I knew she’d always look out for me.’

‘But this new partner will look out for you, surely. What’s her name?’

‘Katie.’

‘Katie will look out for you. I mean, she’s experienced, and you guys must be trained to take care of each other, right?’

His gaze slid towards me.

‘You won’t be shot again, Sam. I know you won’t.’

Afterwards I realized it was a stupid thing to say. I’d said it because I couldn’t bear the idea of him being unhappy. I’d said it because I wanted it to be true.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, quietly.

I felt as if I’d failed him. I wondered how long he’d wanted to tell me that. We lay there for a while. I ran a finger lightly along his arm, trying to work out what to say.

‘You?’ he murmured.

‘Me what?’

‘Tell me something I don’t know. About you.’

I was going to tell him he knew all the important stuff. I was going to be my New York self, full of life, go-getting, impenetrable. I was going to say something to make him laugh. But he had told me his truth.

I turned so that I was facing him. ‘There is one thing. But I don’t want you to see me differently. If I tell you.’

He frowned.

‘It’s something that happened a long time ago. But you told me a thing. So I’m going to do the same.’ I took a breath then and told him. I told him the story I had only ever told Will, a man who had listened and then released me from the hold it had had over me. I told Sam the story of a girl who, ten years previously, had drunk too much and smoked too much and found to her cost that just because a gang of boys came from good families it didn’t make them good. I told it in a calm voice, a little detached. These days it didn’t really feel like it had happened to me, after all. Sam listened in the near dark, his eyes on mine, saying nothing.

‘It’s one of the reasons coming to New York and doing this was so important to me. I boxed myself in for years, Sam. I told myself that was what I needed to feel safe. And now … well, now I guess I need to push myself. I need to know what I’m capable of if I stop looking down.’

When I had finished he was silent for a long time, long enough that I had a momentary doubt as to whether I should have told him at all. But he reached out a hand and stroked my hair. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I wish I’d been there to protect you. I wish –’

‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘It’s not fine.’ He pulled me to him. I rested my head against his chest, absorbing the steady beat of his heart.

‘Just, you know, don’t look at me differently,’ I whispered.

‘I can’t help looking at you differently.’

I tilted my head so that I could see him.

‘Only in that I think you’re even more amazing,’ he said, and his arms closed around me. ‘On top of all the other reasons to love you, you’re brave, and strong, and you just reminded me … we all have our hurdles. I’ll get over mine. But I promise you, Louisa Clark.’ His voice, when it came, was low and tender. ‘Nobody is ever going to hurt you again.’





9


To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Hey, Lily!

's books