“You sound it. Are you still at work?”
“Just arrived home.” She declined to mention that she would continue working even though she was now home. She’d had a gentle lecture from Beverley about working too much earlier that day, and one telling-off in a day was plenty; she didn’t need one from her brother too.
“Okay, then I won’t keep you from putting your feet up. I just wanted to check what time your train gets in on the twelfth.”
Oh shit . “Ah, Tristan. Um.” She sucked in a breath. “Here’s the thing—”
“Oh, no, seriously? You’re cancelling on us again ?”
“I’m sorry. I genuinely intended to come that weekend, but then one of my clients got—”
“Well, I might have known it was your work.”
He sounded angrier than she would have anticipated, and she stopped in the middle of the hallway so that she could concentrate on talking to him. “Tristan, I am so sorry. He’s a very important client, a huge star in the making, and I’ve managed to set up a dinner with one of the top film producers in the US, who happens to be in London that weekend. This could get him—and me—some exceptional exposure. I’m so sorry, but I hadn’t got round to putting our dates in my calendar, and I completely forgot I was already committed to you when I set up the meeting.”
There was silence down the end of the line, and for a brief moment, she thought Tristan had hung up.
“I have always supported you in your work, you know that,” he finally said. “But lately it seems that that’s all you do, twenty-four seven. It isn’t healthy.”
“I know, it’s…” She wasn’t sure what to say. A part of her knew that she held on to her work too tightly, that she needed to let some of it go and trust Monica to do it instead. But she’d been a one-woman show for so long, that was easier said than done.
“Is everything…? Can I ask, is the business okay? Are you in trouble? Is that why you’re working so many hours?”
Carmen snorted out a laugh. “God, no! The complete opposite. We’re doing really well, and my client list is now overflowing. I mean, that’s good, because clearly people trust me and my work speaks for itself, but…”
“Can you hire someone else to help out? Another Monica?”
“I might have to think about doing just that.”
“And how does Gerald feel about this?” her brother asked. “He must hardly ever see you.”
God, could this conversation get any worse? She nearly groaned out loud. “Ah, yes, about that…”
“What?”
“Um, well, I split up with him. About two weeks ago.”
“Carmen! You’re only just telling me this now ?” Tristan sighed again. “I thought we had a better relationship than that.” The softness of his tone hurt more than if he’d shouted. “I thought… Sorry, it’s selfish of me, I know, but I really thought that would be the sort of thing you’d want to share with your little brother. Where have you gone? We never talk anymore. You just work; that’s all. It makes me so sad.”
She didn’t have an answer to that, and it broke her heart. Why did she keep so much to herself? She had people who were there for her. Tristan and Felicity were both very good listeners, and Tamsyn and Maggie had become very good friends over the last couple of years.
“I’m sorry, Tristan.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “God, I’m sorry. I’m so tired. I know it’s self-inflicted, but I feel like I’m on some runaway train that I have to keep up with. I can’t just stop, or I’ll lose all the momentum I’ve built up the last few years.” She tugged on a handful of her hair, the pain a small penance for the mix-up. “I’m so sorry for screwing up our weekend.”
He exhaled slowly. “It’s okay, but please don’t do it again. And please look after yourself. You’re worrying me.”
“I know. I don’t mean to.”
“So, if I email you some new dates tonight, can we please, please make it a firm date this time?”
“Absolutely. I promise.” She nodded firmly even though he couldn’t see it.
“All right. Well, you get some rest. I love you.”
“I love you too.” She cleared her throat. “You’re…you’re a wonderful brother, and I’ll try to be a better sister from now on.”
“You’re a fabulous sister.” He chuckled. “Just not managing that whole work-life balance thing very well right now.”
She managed a laugh, but it lacked conviction.
After wandering down to the kitchen, she sank onto a chair at her small dining table and rested her chin in her hands. Despite her tiredness, she was completely wired, as if she’d had far too much caffeine. Her heart beat way too fast, and her left foot tapped a staccato rhythm on the floor.
I need to calm down . I can’t keep doing this to myself.
Her first thought was to call Felicity for a drink, but alcohol wasn’t the answer.
Her second thought surprised her but had her quickly reaching for her phone again before she could out-think herself.
Thursday evenings were always busy. Ash had long ago stopped trying to figure out why and instead just went with the flow. Her final client was due in five minutes, a regular coming in for the next phase in a larger piece she was having created on her back.
She stretched a few times, using the chair as her barre. After each working session she needed to move her back muscles and flex her arms to keep everything loose. It was funny—in her former life, when she had worked for the investment bank, she’d never given stretching a minute’s consideration. Yet she’d spent more time hunched over her desk there than she had over this chair. It never ceased to amaze her what people could become used to. Especially when they had no idea what a rut they’d got themselves into.
Her phone
