Nick calls me at 1pm to check that I'm still coming over to meet his Isabelle.  He sounds nervous and excited and I try hard to get caught up in my brother's budding romance hoping it will take my mind off Jake, who still hasn't called.

"I can come get you if you want?  I know you hate driving in town." Nick offers.

"No, its fine, I'll drive, there's actually something I need to do first."  My voice is distant.  I'm going to go see him.  I'd decided that when I woke up this morning, and I felt better immediately.  I felt less useless anyway. If it's over then I want him to say to my face.  It's paranoia of course but there's another part of me that wants to make sure he's alive.

"Are you ok?" Nick asks.

"Hmmm? Yeah fine, just tired," I scrub at my eyes.  "I never slept great that's all.  I'm really looking forward to meeting her." I lift my voice to try and  sound chirpier.

"Cool, well she's coming at 5.  And I've booked a table at Ecole at 6 – you know the French place we went for mum and dad's anniversary it was nice there - I liked it anyway - and then we can go meet the rest of the guys after.  If you're up for it that is.  Seb's dying to see you.  But no pressure." he takes a deep breath after speaking and I laugh a little.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing.  You're babbling.  It's sweet." I smile.  He makes a tutting noise and I smile harder.

"Yeah and so what about you and the new guy?  Mum mentioned it last night – can't believe you told her. Serious then I take it?" Nick asks.  

I literally have no idea how to answer that.  It's very serious right now.  I have no idea where he is, why he hasn't called, whether he's ended things. Whether I should.  Oh, but I'm in love with him.  I feel sick again.

"Maybe, yes.  We can talk about it later."

"Deal.  Ok I'll see you later then," He says cheerily. 

After I hang up on Nick I check to see if he's tried to contact me but there's still nothing.  When I woke up this morning I called his mobile which went straight to voicemail, then I texted saying I was worried and for him to call to let me know everything was okay.  I've had no option since then but to sit and simmer and worry.  Which is exactly what I do for the next two and a half hours until I can't take it anymore and get changed and leave the house. 

Presuming he's alive, I plan to make it damn well clear that disappearing in the middle of the night after an urgent call and not calling to let me know everything is ok is not acceptable.   Not least after what had just happened between us.  Which was what exactly?   What did happen?  The light of day had offered no further clues.  I thought it had been because he'd sensed my feelings and wanted to run from them, but I don't think it was.  But something definitely happened on his end after dinner and I need to find out what the hell it was.    Something apparently so bad that he wanted to end things, something related to what he's kept from me.  I feel like I can accept almost anything he has to tell me.  The reasons he thinks make him a bad person and wrong for me are most likely magnified in his own mind.  He's convinced himself it will change my feelings for him.   But how can he think that when he doesn't even know what my feelings for him are? 

Then I consider that maybe I should have told him what they were last night.  Maybe things might have ended differently if I had?

I arrive at his building at St Katherine's docks about forty minutes later, but spend another fifteen driving around to locate a parking space.  After I park up and get to the front of his building I'm confronted by the confusing high-tech intercom.  I know his apartment number and that it's on the 10th Floor but the intercom on the front door doesn't appear to correlate to that, and there are no names to help either.  While I'm deciding which random button to press an older gentleman comes out and lets me into the building, smiling politely as he holds the door open for me.

In the lift, the knot in my stomach starts to vibrate again, gaining mass. I can't decide if I'm more annoyed or more scared.  What if something's happened to him?   What if whoever hurt him the night I stitched him has tried again? Another wave of nausea washes over me.  What makes you think I let them get away with it?   

No.  Jake can look after himself in that way, I'm certain of it.  But if he's safe then why not tell me so?  Surely he'd know I'd be worried? What could have been so urgent that it's prevented him contacting me?

In front of his door I take a deep breath and press the doorbell.  As I smooth down my hair I don't know why but I feel like my whole life is about to be re-directed by whatever happens when the door opens. How will he be with me today after last night? What has he got to tell me? We'll talk tomorrow.  Properly.   There's no answer and so I wait a few moments before pressing it again. Actually I hadn't really thought about him not being home, and I pull my mobile out to ring him again wondering why I don't have a home phone number for him.  Does he even have one?  Suddenly I hear movement behind the door before it's clumsily unlocked and opened. 

I'm not sure what happens first, either my stomach bottoms out or my breath catches in my throat.  But I can't breathe.  The girls hair is blonde, fake with dark purposely accentuated roots, and it's mussed in the sort of way that advertises the fact that I've dragged her from sleep.   She's dressed in just a towel but she doesn't look wet.  She looks Like she's grabbed it so that she didn't need to open the door naked.  She's roughly about my age I think, or maybe a little younger, and she's clearly fallen asleep in a full face of make-up - a lot of make-up.  Her mascara is smudged under her eyes and her lashes, which from here look false, are clumped together above her sky blue eyes.  I must be at the wrong door.  Good lord please let me be at the wrong door.

"Erm... I was... looking for Jake?" my voice comes out sounding timid, and uncertain.

Her eyes narrow suspiciously and then a small almost smug smile crosses her face.  Actually it's less of a smile and more like a smirk she's trying and failing to hide. 

"He's...um... indisposed right now," she glances behind her as she pulls the door closed a little modestly.  "Can I pass a message on for you?" her voice is high and her accent common, similar to Jakes when he's angry or turned on.  As my mind scrambles she yawns, making it look even more like she's just woken up at 3:30pm.   At it all night were they?  This is the reason he never called me? I feel sick.  I also feel angry and stupid, and very over dressed. 

A thought pops into my head then, a random pointless thought. He could do so much better than her.  I guess she could pass for attractive, pretty maybe in some circles, but in a fake-tanned, fake blonde sort of way. She looks washed out and has a mean cast to her face which makes her less attractive.   He prefers her to me? He obviously wasn't lying when he said he doesn't have a type because we could not be any more physically different.   She's petite, fake tanned, blonde and common.  I'm tall, pale, and not blonde and well, not common either.   Well it could be worse I suppose; it could be Gemma from his club or the page 3 girl from the lift.   No, that wouldn't be any worse.  It would be equally as bad.  

"No," I manage finally.   "No message."   I shake my head.  Somehow I doubt it would reach him anyway.  Which is a shame actually because I can think of a few things I'd like to say to him.  Or scream at him rather.   I'd much prefer to say them face-to-face though.  I smile some awkward forced polite smile at her and turn on my heel and start down the corridor, my legs slightly unsteady beneath me.  

The familiar burn of mortification and humiliation settles over me like a hot fog. Like when I pressed play on the answer message from The Hilton Covent Garden when they'd called to say Ben had left his blackberry in his room when he checked out very early that morning.   They had thoughtfully called "home" to let him know, adding quietly at the last minute that his 'wife' had also left some underwear. 

Somehow though, this feels worse.  Maybe it's because I should have known better.  Maybe it's because I did know better but decided to ignore all the warning signs and fall in love with him anyway.  I glance back once to see her watching me from the doorway with that same small, smug smile on her face - it's a little larger now. An image of Jake lying naked on his back waiting for her to come back to bed blasts into my mind and I feel my fists curl. Then I imagine his body being touched and kissed by her, and his perfect mouth moving its way over hers as he pushes himself inside her. It causes a blast of hot rage to wash over me. It stops me dead in my tracks.

I march back to his apartment with a rod of steel in my spine and bang my fist hard on the door. It's opened right away this time and I smile sweetly at the surprised face of Jake's tart.

"I'd actually like to speak to him thanks.." I say as I barge past her into his apartment.  The TV is on and I register some familiar looking children's programme with dancing teddy bears but no sign of him in either the living room or kitchen.   He's indisposed in bed then. I whip round to face her glancing upwards toward his bedroom.

"He's not up there," she says, coming to stand against the wall by the kitchen. The wave of animosity coming from her threatens to drown me.  She has that half smirk on her face again. Although it occurs to me that maybe she's not smirking at all, maybe it's just the set of her face.  One which is mainly lots of small features struggling for prominence on a heart shaped face.

"I thought you said he was indisposed?" I look up towards the bedroom again.   Do I really want to go up there?  Do I really want to catch him red-handed? It will be real if I see him up there. Im about to call him down when she speaks.

"He's out," She says folding her arms across her chest as she looks me over from head to toe.  Oh I dislike her intensely.  So this is the kind of woman he wants instead of me?  I'm wrong for him, but she's right?  I snort derisively to myself as I look her up and down.   I see very little class.  I'm so disappointed in him.  He could do so much better than her.  Surely he was doing better than her? 

I nod.  "You do know that being indisposed isn't really the same thing as being out, don't you?" I point out. My tone is condescending and to her credit she notices.  She narrows her eyes on me and stands up straighter.  Yes, somehow I have the feeling the enmity is completely mutual.

"So you're his doctor bitch then..." She nods with a small cold smile. 

I'm too shocked to respond right away.  How the hell does she know about me?  Granted 'doctor bitch' isn't my given name but she knows me.  Jake spoke to her about me? 

I stand taller too and narrow my eyes on her too. "And you are?" I ask.   I think I'm finding it harder to digest the fact that he left me last night to come and fuck this woman and not the fact that he actually did it?  I guess that's what happens when you become one of the cheated on.   You accept it almost like you expect it when it happens again.  As though you deserve it.  Like it's normal.

"I'm Vicky," she says quite as though she expects it to mean something.  It doesn't.

I pretend to think about it.  "No. I can't say he's ever mentioned you, Vicky." I shrug.   "But if you could you just mention to him that the Doctor Bitch dropped by that would be great.  He'll know who you mean." I say before walking past her to the door.

She says nothing as I pass, just eyes me with disdain.   She probably doesn't know its disdain though.  She probably can't even spell disdain.  I feel violent towards this woman and I hate myself for it. She isn't really the problem here– Jake is.  He's the one I should be directing my anger at.   Yes she called me a bitch but I think thats because she feels threatened by me more than anything. I'm a rival. I shouldn't mind that I'm a threat to her.   

This time I walk down Jake's corridor to the lift without looking back.  I've no desire to. I hold in an angry growl and shake my head, breathing deeply to try and control my temper instead.

I drive the half hour to my brother's feeling like a coiled spring and when I pull up to his house I have literally no memory of the drive at all.  In the car I'd played over all the things I'd say to him along with all of the excuses he'd no doubt throw back at me.    It hits me then.  He won't even bother making excuses.  It's clever really.   This was how he decided to push me away in the end.   This way he gets to break my heart and still keep all of his secrets.  Yes, very clever.    I wonder if he whispered all those things to her whilst he fucked her too.   All of those lines he used on me.  The lines he promised weren't lines; how hard she makes him, and how she drove him crazy, and how perfect she was.  

God I really am a naïve idiot. I knew they were lines, of course I knew it, but I still fell in love with it all anyway.  I let him play me like a naïve idiot.  Naïve and an idiot were never things I had considered myself to be.   Not until two men in relatively quick succession decided that I was.   I suppose Jake and I never had a conversation about being exclusive.   Do I even have the right to accuse him of cheating on me?  I mean we barely knew each other.   In my limited relationship experience, I just assume that when you're sleeping with someone it's with only that someone unless stated otherwise.  Ok I'm rationalizing now.  I've moved into some new stage of grief.   I'm very different with you.  You make me want to be better. You're perfect Alex.   What woman wouldn't fall for lines like those?  I might be a naïve idiot but I'm also not a bloody robot.

Nick opens the door smiling and comes forward and puts his arms around me for a welcoming hug.  As I cuddle him tightly his comforting brotherly embrace causes the damn to burst and the tears come hard and fast, my body heaving with great pathetic sobs. 

I cry hard on Nick's shoulder for almost five solid minutes during which he leads me into his living room and has me confirm that everyone in our family is ok and alive.  He rubs my back, telling me it's all going to be ok in soothing brotherly tones.  I'm grateful for the words of comfort but he doesn't know it's going to be ok.  He doesn't even know why I'm crying.   He's just doing that Marlowe reassurance thing we all seem to do so well by nature.  When I finally stop heaving he hands me a tissue then gets up and brings me a large glass of cold white wine, which I take and gulp gratefully.  Then he sits next to me on the sofa and gives me a concerned look.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's up?  I've never seen you this emotional Alex.  Not since you were fourteen. Talk."  He demands.  

His eyes are serious but warm and I feel like crying again but I manage to hold it together though I'm still taking deep desperate staggered breaths like a child.  Jake.   

"I'm an idiot.  I've been a total idiot.  Again.  I mean when did I become this person Nick?  This person that men treat like this?" I say angry now but still sniffling.

He sits back and nods in realization. "So the new guy's a prick too then?" he sounds angry.  I just look at him pathetically and put my head in my hands.  He reaches across and puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it in comfort. "You're not that person Alex.  This is their fucking problem.  Guys who treat women like shit are the problem, I would know."  He sounds a little guilty I think.  When I look up at him he smiles.  "So you want to tell me what happened?  Get a male perspective on it?" 

As much as I love Nick, he's a player too and he would only confirm my worst fears.  Or lie to protect me, which would be worse.  God what am I talking about?  I had my worst fears confirmed about 20 minutes ago.   No, I don't want to talk about any of it. I'm here because Nick wants to introduce me to a girl – for the first time since high school, he is actually properly seeing someone  - and here I am crying on his shoulder about how messed up relationships are.  It's selfish.  I'm selfish.

"No. I don't want to talk about it." I shake my head.  "I'm fine. Just angry and feeling stupid, which I hate.  Tell me about Isabelle instead." I smile, wiping my running nose with the tissue.  "When is she getting here?" I ask.  I want to know how much time I have to make myself look less unhinged.  I don't want to embarrass my brother by looking like some ball of emotional mess on his sofa when I meet her for the first time. 

He looks at his watch. "She'll be here just before 5."

"Ok, so tell me about her.  What does she do?" I ask, curious.

"She's a student actually; in her final year of a Fine Art MA at UAL. Oh and she's American, from Virginia." He smiles.

I nod. "And where did you meet?"

"At Seb's birthday back in March first, she's a friend of Seb's sister Becca, you know Becca right?" He sounds shy talking about her.  It's lovely.  My heart contracts again at the feeling of my own loss.  My own fault.  I shouldn't have been so naive.  I shouldn't have fallen.  

"So she's younger then?" I nod.

"Yes. 5 years.  I know, but she's mature Alex, more mature than me.  And really fucking smart. And so passionate about everything.  You'll love her." He smiles confidently.

"Well she must be pretty special if she's got you nervous and grinning like a teenager. I haven't seen you like this since you were fourteen either." I laugh a little.  As he smiles I stand and tell him I'm going to go tidy my face.

Nick's large bathroom mirror isn't too harsh on me considering. But I brush out my hair and touch up my mascara and liner before adding a little blush and some gloss to make me look a little perkier.  Lack of sleep is always my worst enemy frankly.  Not tears or heartbreak.    I adjust my floral belted dress and pinch my cheeks, and try smiling at myself in the mirror but it looks and feels forced.   I need to try harder.   I can't be the harbinger of doom tonight; not when this means so much to Nick.  I'll get through tonight and deal with the Jake aftermath tomorrow.   When I walk back into the living room Nick is lifting my glass through to the kitchen presumably to refill it and so I follow him in.

"So I spoke to Tash today," he says as he hands me my refilled glass.  "She thinks she'll be here second week of August.  I told her she can stay here for a few days, or at yours, and then we can all go to Fayance together?  We could just take my car and take the shuttle over?" he leans back against the counter and sips at his wine.  I do the same, savoring the welcome taste of the refreshing Sancerre and nod.  Fayance sounds very very good all of a sudden.  Second week of August is only 6 weeks away though. I'd need to speak to Douglas on Monday so he can arrange a locum.

"You could bring Isabelle?" I smile and widen my eyes at him.

He rolls his eyes and nods.  "Yeah, I was going to speak to you about that.  Mum is going to smother it to death Alex you know that.  I don't know if I want to put Izzy under that amount of pressure already you know?  Or me for that matter." he looks worried but I just smile at him.  He just called her Izzy.  He has a nickname for her.  Oh yes, mum is going to smother it to death alright.

"Okay but you're going to have to have them meet at some point Nick." I shrug.  

He takes another sip of his wine and I follow him back into the living room.  The wine is starting to do its job and I feel the tension start to lighten a little, my shoulder and neck muscles easing off, my body lightening.  Wine has the most calming effect on me I find.  Not the best direction of thought for a GP but I could seriously become an alcoholic purely as a de-stressing /coping mechanism.  I still have the strange vacuum of loss in my stomach and that'll be much harder to shift. Though perhaps once I've eaten.

"I know they'll need to meet if it keeps going this well but mum is.... Well mum.  You're normal Al.  Calm." He tells me.   When I look at him askance he smiles. 

"Ok, normally you're calm.  Often you're calm and normal."  He says.

Mum does tend to fuss around Nick more than the rest of us and I don't know if it's because he's the only boy or if it's because Nick fights against her so much that she feels she needs to steer him that bit harder.   I mean she does fuss over Tash and I but not to the same extent, or in a slightly different way.    When I hear my mobile ring from my handbag my entire body jerks and I put my wine down to reach in to get it, my heart beating ten to the dozen.   I'm not answering it if it's him, I've already decided.   It will only ruin my gradually lightening, progressively inebriated mood.  Plus I don't want to have a shouting match with him in front of my brother.   It's not Jake though, it's a number I don't recognise so I make a puzzled face and shrug at Nick as I press to answer the call.

"Alex where the fuck are you?" he growls down the phone before I even have a chance to speak.  Oh, so I'm now one of the people he barks at down the phone.  No bloody way.  How dare he. No greeting, no nothing, just an order.   Vaguely I wonder where he's calling from and I stand up and walk away from Nick towards the balcony.   I try and keep my voice steady and calm.

"It's none of your business where I am.  I don't want to speak to you right now." I tell him.

"Alex, tell me where you are right fucking now." He asks again.  This time the phone practically vibrates from his tempered rage. 

"I told you last night.  I'm seeing my brother.  Now I'm going.  Goodbye Jake." I say, proud at how calm my voice sounds despite the whirlwind inside.

"Alex, don't you dare hang up on me!" He shouts.  "Look, I need to see you, speak to you.  Vic told me you came here.  Fuck baby, why did you have to do that?" his voice sounds softer now and more desperate but I only heard one thing.  He just called her 'Vic'.  Not Vicky.   He has a nickname for her.  Like Nick has for Izzy.  Like people have for people who mean something to them.  I'm going to throw up.

Oh no wonder she looked so smug.  I thought the fact that I'd never heard her name before meant she was unimportant.  But no.  She has a nickname.  She's important all right. 

"I did that because I was worried sick about you.  Because you left me like that last night and never called.  Though it seems it wasn't really my place to worry about you was it?"

"What the fuck did she say to you?"  Oh my god. Is he actually trying to put the blame on her, first me for going there in the first place and now her?  He's unbelievable.

"Who Vic?  Oh very little.  She knew who I was though which was slightly disarming.  Not that she referred to me by name.  She used another charming nickname... oh what was it again... oh that's right, your doctor bitch." I whisper, not wanting Nick to hear.    I'm not quite sure I've done it justice but he gets the idea because he mutters a loud curse.  When I look over at Nick, who's standing a few feet away,  he looks concerned and a little angry, ready to jump in if need be.  I give him the signal that I'm ok. 

Jake sighs down the phone. "Alex please tell me where you are.  I'll come to you.  I'll come now," He pleads.  I don't like how it makes me feel.  Jake pleading.  "I need to see you, to talk to you, to explain." He says.  I wonder if it's to tell me how her being naked in his apartment wasn't what it looked like.  "Please baby,"

I straighten my spine just as I hear the doorbell and Nick hesitates a second before going to answer it.

"Don't you dare.  That "baby" crap is finished now." I say. "Oh and explain?  Please. You've never explained anything to me.  I had to get you to converse with me under duress.  Please don't let desperation change the habit of a lifetime - begging doesn't suit you Jake.  I'm going now. This is over." My voice sounds controlled and distant although I feel on the verge of tears again. 

"Alex I mean it do-." I hear him shout but my hand closes over the disconnect button so I'm not sure what the rest of the sentence is.   An order or a command most likely. 

As I turn round Nick enters with Isabelle by his side, and I fix on my most genuine smile and walk across to greet her.

"Izzy this is my little sister Alexandra, but we call her Alex, or Al or Doc," Nick smiles at me.  With his hand on Izzy's lower back he guides her towards me and she smiles brightly.   

I'm surprised at how petite she is.  For some reason I'd imagined a tall glamorous blonde bombshell – normally the kind of women I see on Nick's arm - but she's the complete opposite.   She's small and slim, with shoulder length almost black hair cut into a funky style with a thick asymmetric fringe.   She's pale and pretty with high cheek bones and astute piercing blue eyes which are regarding me warmly. She ignores the hand I'm holding out and steps in to hug me instead. Nope, definitely not Nick's usual type, not by a long shot.

After she pulls away she smiles warmly "Well it's nice to meet you Alex, a real life member of his actual living family.  I was starting to think he was maybe an orphan." She says in her soft American accent as she throws an admonishing look at Nick. He just shrugs and smiles his charming smile at her.  

When my mobile rings a second later I decline it immediately and turn the thing off.  Nick gives me his concerned look again but I just smile and he goes off into the kitchen leaving Isabelle and I alone.

"So you're a Doctor, like his Dad? And your Dad of course." she says as we move to the sofa.   "I just think that's so great.  Nick said he'd have loved to have gone into medicine but he just wasn't smart enough.  He's so proud of you you know.  He talks about you all the time.  That's why I was so excited but so nervous about meeting you." She smiles.   Nick wanted to go into medicine?  How did I not know that?  He's proud of me?

"Oh well there's definitely no need to be nervous. I was really looking forward to meeting you."  I smile.   "And Nick is one of the smartest guys I know so that's just him being modest.  Which normally isn't really his thing – but you'll know that."  I laugh softly and she nods in agreement.  "So you're a fine art student Nick said?  At UAL?"  I ask and she immediately launches into telling me all about her course and what she loves about it.   She has an infectious, charming way about her, like Nick does and she scoops me up into her enthusiasm, closing out most of my wandering thoughts almost completely.   Nick has the same kind of character; warm and friendly and able to make you feel like you've known him for years, and if you haven't then he makes you kind of feel like you'd have liked to.   In that they are both well suited.  There's a lot to be said for being attracted to a personality type close to your own I suppose.  Isabelle is witty and intelligent and I can see why she's caught Nick's attention. The way he looks at her as she talks and watches when she leaves the room I know why he was so nervous about introducing us.  If I hadn't liked her then he would have been devastated.  Exactly like I would have been if my friends hadn't liked Jake last night. None of which matters now.

Was that really only last night?  I feel sick again. 

Dinner at Ecole is comfortable and fun and I feel less like a gooseberry than I'd feared.  As I drink too much wine Isabelle tells me about growing up in Roanoke, Virginia and explains why deciding to come to London rather than go to New York to study art was an easy one for her.   London for her is a place that oozes style and history and she thinks of it as an exotic, abstract place that she grew up watching in movies.  Funny since I see the states in exactly the same way.   She wanted London to inspire her in art too. She talks freely and expressively about her love of art and architecture and Nick watches her completely enraptured throughout the whole meal.  I've never seen him like this and its lovely to observe.  Because Izzy and Nick are a cute funny couple who keep the conversation going, I don't need to think much about what's going on inside my head and instead I just listen and smile and drink a lot of wine, too much wine.  Which as far as I'm concerned isn't a bad thing.

After dinner we take a taxi to Soho to meet some of Nick's friends, including Seb, Nick's oldest friend who practically grew up at our house, and Seb's sister Rebecca who is Izzy's friend.  The bar is trendy and busy and it takes us a minute to spot Nick's crowd who are near the back of the split-level space.  They are rowdy and loud and taking up three whole tables, which are overflowing with ice buckets full of champagne bottles, and at least a dozen shot glasses.  This is going to be messy.  Actually it already looks pretty messy.   To be honest though, messy is probably what I need tonight, messy should keep my mind off him and his tart. 

As we approach the table I wave at the friends of Nick's that I know, before Izzy introduces me to Becca as 'Nicky's beautiful smart baby sister' and then giggles when she remembers that Becca and I know each other already.  I squeeze into the seat next to Sebastian and lean across to hug him.

"Hey Doc.  How are you? What's happening?" he slurs, squinting at me through his drunken haze.   I wonder how many of these empty shot glasses are just his.  

"I'm great Sebastian, you?" I lie, looking around the table for some non-carbonated wine to consume.  I refuse to start on champagne at this point.  Tomorrow will be a washout if I do that.   And tomorrow I have lots of crying and self-pitying to do.  

I've no choice in the matter of avoiding champagne though because then Seb stands up and pours me a glass and hands it to me. Since I don't see any other wine and because I have terrible will power I take it from him.

"Thank you." I say as I take a sip.  It tastes great actually.   Though I can't think of an occasion where champagne wouldn't taste great.  Even now, heartbroken and stupid.

"So, are you and Ben still over?  You seeing anyone else yet?" he smiles flirtatiously.  I know he doesn't like me like that but he flirts anyway.  He flirts with everyone.

"Yes Sebastian, I am seeing someone." I smile back. It's just easier that way than having to explain anything else.  He makes an over exaggerated disappointed noise and drops his head back.  "But there's a nice attractive girl over there.  Go try your luck with her." I indicate toward a pretty dark-haired girl standing at the bar. 

"But you know it's you I want Doc – you know I've always had a thing for Nicky's sisters.  You and Tash are hot.  She still married?" he asks and I laugh at him and shake my head and tell him she's very married.   He grins at me and then heads to the bar to get another round of drinks, and try it on with the pretty dark haired girl no doubt.  As he walks off I call after him to bring me back a glass of water, but I don't think he hears me.   As Nick catches up with the others and Becca and Isabelle chat I begin to feel fidgety and so naively, and idiotically - because I'm a naïve idiot - I take out my phone and switch it on.  

There are eight missed calls and four text messages from him.  Each message angrier than the last.  Except for the most recent one which he sent an hour ago, which simply says:

//Alex, I AM begging you. call me. I need to explain.//

My heart constricts.  He's begging me again.   My fingers itch to dial his number and  my throat burns with all the words I want and need to say to him.  Words I know will eat me up if I don't.   Should I call him?  Now that I'm a little calmer and a lot more inebriated?  Or is that what a naïve idiot would do? No.   Actually I can't bear the thought of listening to his excuses and the lies. He can deal with the radio silence the way I had to last night.   I'm sure Vic can comfort his wounded male pride if need be.   Why does he care so much anyway?   He wanted me to finish it completely last night, tell him I never wanted to see him again.  Christ there are voicemails too.  I can't bear listening to what he has to say, I don't want to hear his voice spouting the same sort of lies and excuses Ben did.   As I'm holding the phone another text comes through from him.  He clearly isn't finished for the night. With a deep breath I open it.

//Ok I'm going to your house.  I'll wait there until you come home. We need to talk.//

Of course he's going to my bloody house.  Because that's what he does.  He turns up at my house.  Could I call the police and get them to remove him?  I guess I could have my 'detective friend Mark' remove him.   I could stay at Nick's but I can't leave Fred all night and I cant ring Ed and Betty at this hour to ask them to feed him. But I really don't want to run the Jake gauntlet in person tonight either.  Not this inebriated.   I'm going to have to talk to him at some point though and I suppose the best option is by phone, and from a distance.  I know the effect he has on my body and my mind and I don't trust myself around him.  It's highly possible that if I see him and smell him and he touches me I'll do something stupid and naïve. 

With a sigh and squeeze my way out of the row of joined up tables to go outside. The air is muggy and hot and the street busy as I dial his mobile.  It barely has a chance to ring before I hear his voice.

"Where the fuck are you?" he growls.  His voice sounds hoarse as though he's been shouting with it and the tone is what I would call 'not amused'.  

"Do you ever answer your phone with the customary hello?" I ask dryly.

"I am not fucking playing here Alex.  I'm in the car on my way to your house so you will have to fucking speak to me.  You've no choice in that." He states.  Have I ever had a choice in anything when it comes to him?  I mean really?

"Well, since I wont be coming home tonight I hope your seats recline all the way back." my voice is a little slurred but I smile at my sarcasm anyway.  

He sighs.  "Tell me where you are and I'll come get you, I'll come to your brother's.  Where is it? I need to see you Alex," he says. "Please."  He adds softer in that low deep tone I'm used to.   His voice still has the ability to send warm shivers down my cold spine.  It's the same growly tone he uses to tell me how hard I make him and when he asks how wet I am for him.  Then I imagine him using it to whisper the same things into Vicky's ear as he fucks her and I'm cold and once more.

"Well I don't care what you need.  I told you I don't want to see you." I'm proud at how calm I sound.   This is good.  I sound rational and indifferent.  Not in love.  "I never want to see you again in fact." I add.  There's a long silence before he speaks again.

"I'm not asking you again baby.  Tell me where the fuck you are or I swear to fucking god..."

That does it. I'm gone. 

"You swear to god what exactly?!" I snap.  My business-like detached indifference evaporates, replaced by drunken woman scorned. "How dare you. You fucked someone else!  In fact you couldn't get away from me fast enough so you could go fuck someone else.   Someone I had the pleasure of meeting when I turned up to check you weren't hurt or dead."  He says nothing.  Not a word, I know he hasn't hung up because I can hear him breathing but he doesn't speak a single word.   So I continue.    "I mean how the hell did she know about me Jake?  Your Vic?  Do you two lie in bed and talk about me? You must think I'm the biggest idiot, and you are just the most...." I trail off, unable to think of any words that wont make me sound like a common tart if I say them.   "No, you don't get to make demands on me anymore. So by virtue of all that fact we're done. Whatever this is...was.... Is finished now." I say, tears of frustration welling up in my eyes.   

The silence on his end stretches endlessly down the phone.  He continues to say absolutely nothing.  He doesn't deny it or offer an excuse and even though it wasn't something I wanted to hear anyway I cant help but wonder why not.  What is wrong with him?   The echo of my words is the only thing that passes between us.  While the sound of his silence grows I begin to feel slightly self-conscious, and so I look around to see who might have heard.  Hoping to god none of Nick's friends have just played witness my mini emotional breakdown.  Thankfully the only person beside me is a drunk Scottish guy on his mobile, and he's too busy shouting down the phone at whom I can only assume is his drunk, or deaf friend to have taken any notice of me.  But then my stomach lurches – he's been shouting the name of the pub, and the street it's on, in a Scottish accent over and over again for everyone to hear - including Jake.

Oh dear god. 

"I know where you are.  I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't move." He warns and then he's gone. 

Ok god I need to move.   He's angry and I'm drunk and hurt and this will turn into an epic.  Of course if I go home he's going to come there too but at least we wont be having our epic out here on the street or inside in front of Nick and his friends. 

Back inside I look for Nick or Izzy but can't see either of them, but when I reach Seb and ask him he points through a drunken haze at the dance floor in the lowered area to where my brother and Izzy are dancing.   I squeeze my way through the crowd marvelling slightly that Nick is actually dancing; Nick never dances.   When I tap him on the shoulder and tell him I'm leaving he guides me off the dancefloor and back towards our table, leaving Izzy with Rebecca.   

"Has this got something to do with this guy?" he says once the music isn't so loud.    "Are you going to see him?" he eyes me suspiciously.   No, I scream internally, I'm trying to avoid him coming here and making a scene.  I don't say this. Instead I just shake my head.

"No, I'm just tired and it's too loud and I can't drink anymore.  You know me; I'm a lightweight really.  Listen it was great to meet Izzy, she's a darling, I love her.  Tell her goodbye from me and we should meet up again soon." I lean in to hug him.

"Ok, fine but hang on I'll walk you out until you get a taxi." He says and turns towards the door of the bar.   Jake will be here any minute and I'll be standing outside with Nick.   A shiver of fear runs over me at how that might play out; Jakes temper and Nick's protectiveness would not mix well.   I can't let it happen.  With my hand on is shirt I tug Nick back.

"Nick its fine.  I'm going to walk up to the end of the road, I saw a shop up there and I really need to get water and some milk for the morning." I lie.    "I'll get a taxi from up there." He shakes his head and looks as though he's about to argue with me.  "Nick, honestly.  There are loads of folk out and it's a two minute walk, and I'm a grown woman." I smile. 

Finally he acquiesces and pulls me into a hug again and makes me promise to let him know when I get home.  On my way outside I rush headlong into Seb who's just finishing a call on his mobile.

"Alex heyy, you're not going already are you?" he sways toward me. "You need to stay, we need a dance."

"Sorry Justin Timberlake but I'm off.  Next time.  Definitely." I move in to give him a hug, which he holds for too long.   When I finally unfurl myself from his arms and say goodbye I head  up the street and away from the bar, towards the main road where I'm more likely to find a taxi come past with its light on. 

I check my phone as I walk but hasn't made any further contact.   I'm walking and scrolling when behind me I hear a car screech to a stop, and a second later the sound of a door opening.  It's him.  I feel it.  I don't need to turn around to confirm it but something turns me to face him anyway.   

He practically jumps out of the car, leaving the door open and the engine running as stalks round onto the pavement toward me me.  His eyes are blazing bright and his mouth, his beautiful mouth, is set in a hard, angry line.  Aside from his obvious rage there's something else on his face, something like fear, panic maybe.   My heart swells to life again at the sight of him, and my body prickles with need.   I feel like I've been starved of him.  He's dressed so simply in jeans and a t-shirt but as always because they hang so perfectly on his perfect body he still looks magnificent.   My womb tightens as he gets closer and I hate myself for it.  I hate the effect he has on me.  I can't even manage to be righteously angry around him because he makes me so painfully needy and desperate for him.  

Without much effort I think back to this afternoon, and to Vicky wrapped in a towel and smiling smugly as she called me 'doctor bitch'.  It helps. 

I turn around and take a step away from him but he's too quick and his hand shoots out and he grabs me and pulls me back, branding me with his hot touch on my cool skin.

"Let go of me Jake." I warn as I glare up at him. I attempt to shake my arm out of his grip but it's pointless because he's too strong.  And because I'm too weak.

"I can't do that baby," He says.  Gradually I feel the place on my arm where's he's holding get warmer, and as he steps in to my body his smell floods into my nose and I close my eyes.  No...no...no...no.  I can just about deal with him touching me but I cant deal with him this close and his smell all over me, drugging me, softening me.   When I open my eyes to look up at him, his are eyes dark and serious.  "Get in the car, now."

"No." I tell him, defiant.  

His mouth twitches and he takes a deep breath as if he's struggling for patience and I'm an unruly child again.

"I'm not going to ask you again Alex, get in the fucking car." He growls.   At his tone I flinch, but then I straighten my spine and glower up at him.

"It doesn't sound like you're asking Jake." I say sharply.  

He blinks and his face softens a little, and he nods.   "Ok.  Will you please get in the car?  So that we can go somewhere and talk?  I need to explain baby, please." He says.  His tone is so soft and so low and lilting that it makes me want to move in close and curl myself up in his arms and have him hold me.    That's the wine thinking though, or my stupid naivety.  Or both.    Slowly I take a step towards him, pressing myself into his body as I look up into his eyes.   My action and whatever he sees on my face makes him loosens his grip on my arm a little.    As I raise myself up on my tiptoes towards his face he licks his lips and stares longingly at my mouth.  I take my time before speaking.

"Go fuck yourself." I whisper with venom against his ear before pulling back to glare at him.    

His eyes narrow but then he smiles slowly, sexily, and I feel my body tremble. As he smiles I see something else mix with the anger in his eyes.  Something warmer and more tempting.  I refuse to think about that.   He wants someone else.   He had her last night.  Or this morning, or both.  Whilst I worried myself sick about him and us - because I'm in love with him - he was in bed with another woman.

"Do you remember what I said about how you look when you're angry?" He says smiling deeper.   My mouth practically gapes open.   Is he actually serious?   I can't believe what I'm hearing.   My body does believe it though and it responds like the traitorous sex demon it is. "Now baby, I promise you, if you don't get in that fucking car right now, I will put you in it."  His voice is low and promising and sounds like it does when he tells me what he wants to do to me in bed. My body purrs and because I'm afraid I might do as he asks I try again to yank my arm away from him, using my whole body for leverage this time.   Jake strengthens his grip. 

A few people are staring at us now.  Maybe because its Saturday night in the middle of Soho and we look like a couple having a domestic and that kind of thing draws attention.   As I glance around I see two men across the street looking at each other before they start to cross the road towards us.  When I look back at Jake he's still staring at me hard, utterly oblivious to the scene we're causing

"Please let me go now Jake," I demand.  I'm not only angry; I'm embarrassed now too.    His face softens before a voice interrupts us.

"You alright there love?" A male voice says from behind me.   I hold Jake's gaze for a moment before turning around.  One of the men from across the street is coming toward us, looking from Jake to me warily.   He's a young and confident, a little cocky looking maybe, but when he gets closer something freaks him out.   Behind me Jake laughs. Not a full laugh, a small half one. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he says. "Do yourself a favour and fuck off yeah?" Jake says dismissively before turning his eyes back on me. It comes out like the verbal equivalent of swatting a fly.   When I look back onlooker guy looks tense and as he looks to his friend I think it's a look of regret for getting involved.  I don't blame them really.   Jake has a dangerous looking edge to him generally but right now that dial is cranked up full. He looks ferocious.  I decide to give them an easy out.

"Thank you, I'm fine." I tell them with a half hearted smile.  They look relived and then nod at me before backing off back across the road the way they came shaking their heads. It occurs to me that to them I must look like one of those battered women who don't know what's good for themselves.  Those who stand by their man no matter what they do.  Am I?  I whip my head round to glare at Jake again and I feel his grip on my arm tighten.

"You're embarrassing me. Stop bloody manhandling me, I am not a child." I snap at him.  Im furious and I also hate the fact that he still looks completely gorgeous and in control and I look and feel like an emotional drunken mess.

"Are you going to get in the car?" he asks.  Short of me screaming bloody murder in the middle of the street and embarrassing myself further I don't see what option I have.

"Do I have a choice?"

He looks at me sadly. "Please baby, for me." he says and I feel myself soften a little at his tone.   What am I doing?  What am I doing? I'm an idiot.

"Fine." I hiss.

He looks at me suspiciously, clearly doubting the validity of what I'm saying before he finally lets go of my arm.   To make him feel guilty, I rub it as though he's hurt me even though he hasn't, and glare at him hard before walking to the passenger side and getting in the car.   He doesn't move from his spot until I've slammed the door closed.  As he walks slowly around to the drivers side, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and then he climbs in beside me.  Once the door is closed he turns to stare at me, the weight of his eyes heavy and hot.  I turn my head to stare out the passenger door window where it's safer.

"Alex please look at me." He pleads softly. 

I close my eyes for a long moment and take a deep breath before I turn to face him.  His body, which outside was coiled and hard like steel seems to relax immediately, but his face still looks tormented and anxious.  I'm able to look at him for maybe ten seconds before I have to look away again.  It hurts to look at him.  And being this close to him is playing with my nerves and my will power.   I can feel his heat from here, and his smell too and I hate myself for still wanting it on me.   The car has become like a vortex of his rage and my pain and mixed with it all is the loud steady pull of sexual tension.   When from the corner of my eye I see his hand move up towards my face, I pull my head back away from it.

"Don't touch me." I tell him. 

His hand freezes in mid air, before he lowers it slowly and turns around to face the front.  Then he sighs deeply and pulls on his seatbelt.

"Can you put yours on too please," he asks softly as his clicks into place.
Everything inside me wants to defy him but for what purpose?  I feel too drained anyway.   Huffily I reach across and pull the strap over my chest and secure it in its socket.  

Though my wine haze is fading fast, I still feel slightly disorientated as he starts to drive through the tight busy streets of London's west end.  I'm not entirely sure which direction we're going in, or where he plans to take me to "talk" but then I see the River Thames ahead.  When he takes a left turn so that the river is on my right and carries on along the riverfront I know exactly where he's taking me.  I feel ill.

"Don't even think about taking me to your place." I tell him.   When he doesn't respond I turn to glare at him.  His expression is resolute and determined. 

"I need to take you there Alex." He says eventually.   "I need to show you."

"Show me what? The scene of the crime?  I saw that this afternoon.  Unless there are some soiled bed sheets you need me to see or something?" I fold my arms across my chest.   I'm being ridiculous now and I know that. Why isn't he explaining himself?  I expected a pathetic excuse, or a half-hearted attempt at an apology.  Something.  Anything.   Ben at least had something.

"No, not that.." is all he says, before going back to chewing furiously at the inside of his lip.

I'm about to argue some more but he looks resolved and I feel resigned and exhausted.    A part of me is also intrigued about what he feels he needs to show me.  Why I'm intrigued I have no clue.  What intrigue is there here exactly? He drove away from me last night to be with her. Nothing intriguing about that.  I don't want to feel anything.   I want to scratch her eyes out and then turn my fury and rage on him.   Then I want him to soothe me and kiss me and tell me she meant nothing and that it's only me he wants.  Its pathetic.   I imagine him naked and moaning her name as he thrusts into her over and over again and it makes me feel colder and angrier and definitely a lot less intrigued. God, I need some air. I reach over and hold the button on the door down to lower my window, breathing deeply of the cool night air as I try and cool and calm the noise in my head.

I glance back at his profile.  His face is almost totally in darkness, then an instant later the streetlights illuminates it. It hits me then, a strange empty realization, that it's him personified; the light teases me with glimpses of him only to snatch him away straight after back into the dark.   One instant I see him totally and then he's completely gone again.   But then, I've never seen him totally have I?  I've seen only what he's chosen to show me. 

When we pull into his garage a short time later he switches the engine off takes a deep breath and then turns to face me, his stare grave and tense.

His gaze burns right through me.  Scorching. There's pain and hurt and fear and lust in them and it's just too much for one person to look directly at. So I look away. 

"Alex, I know you're angry at me, and hurt and you have a right to be," he nods.  "I don't blame you for it - fucking hell it's what I deserve.  But I need you to know the truth about what you saw today, and if you come upstairs with me I can show you, and explain." his tone is beseeching now.  Why does he keep saying that?  Show me? What the hell can he have to show me?

"And if I say no?" I ask.  He thinks about it a moment.

"Then I'll take you home right now, or call you a taxi.  Whatever you want." 

"You weren't so reasonable ten minutes ago when you threatened to force me into the car.  What changed?" my voice is so hard and so cold that I barely recognise it. That coupled with the fact that he looks so desperate and heavyhearted only makes me feel sorry for him.  I feel guilty.  How is that fair?  I haven't done anything wrong.  He has. 

"I know," he looks ashamed now.  "I regret that and I'm sorry.  I never want to force you to do anything, force you to be with me... or hurt you,"  He shakes his head and drops his eyes again.  "I never wanted any of this."   His voice cracks slightly.  He sounds so sincere.   I can't think straight again.  He's doing it again. 

"Is she still up there?" I ask.

His eyes widen with shock before narrowing with confusion.  "What? No, of course not." He shakes his head.   I close my eyes and take a deep breath.  What the hell am I doing?

But don't I need to know everything?? Don't I need to see the truth he keeps promising me.  I need to know, for future.  Lessons learned and all that.

I unbuckle my seat belt and he does the same, watching me intently as I open the door and step out of his car.   I walk ahead of him into the foyer and once we're in the lift I have to try very hard not to look at him.

I fail.  And when I do he's staring at me searchingly, anxiously, but with desire too.  It unsettles me that most of my anger has gone.

He gets out first and I follow him to the door of his apartment, which bizarrely isn't locked.  He holds open the door for me and I step inside and walk through into the space towards the living room.   I try to forget the image of her standing here half naked this afternoon.

Sitting on the sofa is the guy from club who along with the creep from the surgery threw Matt out that night.  He looks surprised to see us, and flicks off the TV with the remote and stands up.  He nods at Jake and smiles warmly at me.

"Cheers Paul," Jake says patting him on the shoulder.  "You can shoot off now mate."

Paul nods.  "Guessing we wont be seeing you down there later?" Paul inclines his head in my direction and Jake shakes his head.  He follows Paul to the front door and as he passes, Paul smiles at me again. "Alex," he says with another dip of his head. 

From my stance in the living room I watch Jake show him out and lock the door twice after him, before leaning forward resting his head on the door.  He takes a few deep breaths, and then stands up straight, turns and comes back towards me.   When he's a few feet away from he stops and slides his hands deep in his pockets and bites his bottom lip hard as he stares at me.

"Well?" I say looking around.  "You had something to show me?" my voice is hard again.  I don't like that he's standing on the very same spot his tart stood a few hours ago and called me "his doctor bitch".  My nerves are frayed and I just want to get this over with and go home.  It's also unsettling me that he's so calm and resigned and that as yet he hasn't once tried to deny any of it. 

He takes a deep breath and walks toward me, stopping only when he's close enough so that I can smell him, but not so close that he's touching me.

"Alex, I need you to know that yes I've kept things from you, important things..." he hesitates, and rubs the back of his neck.  "but it wasn't because I wanted to hurt you... it was because it's what I know.  What I do.   It's how I manage things.  My life...." He shakes his head.  "But I wanted to tell you. I didn't want to hurt you," He reaches out to touch me but I draw back from him again, wary.   I'm still not ready for him to touch me.   Again he looks injured by my pulling away but nods like he understands.  "I was going to tell you everything Alex, eventually.  I promised you that and I meant it.  I always wanted to keep my promises to you." His voice is raw and the past tense he's just used causes a shiver to skitter down my spine.   I'm scared again.  

Jake offers me a small sad smile and then turns and goes towards the room just off the living room, the one he called his junk room when I first came here.  The one I hoped was a red room of pain.  

He stops when his hand is on the handle and looks back and beckons me forward.   For a moment I stand there immobile and confused until my feet finally begin to move toward him.  

Jake turns the handle gently and opens the door very slowly and I follow him inside.    The room is in almost complete darkness but there's small blue glow coming from a night light to my right.   The room doesn't look to be full of clutter at all, it looks tidy and neat and we go further into the room towards the far end where there's a full length window with the blinds drawn. I follow Jake forward and my heart catches in my throat as my hand comes up to stifle any loud noise which might escape from my mouth.

There in the corner, in a small white wooden bed is a gorgeous sleeping little boy who looks to be about three years old.  He has Jakes nose and full plump mouth.