All I Want From You- Book 2 (All I. . . Series)

I don’t know why I came here. I don’t know why I’m sitting in this bar called The Haven, while awkwardly looking around at my surroundings. I had just stumbled across it during my evening walk, and letting curiosity get the better of me I had stepped inside, only to find the place very quiet. Only a few regulars had been sitting at the many tables, nursing their drinks, and there had been a young woman working behind the bar.

The stale smell of beer had made me feel a little queasy the moment I had walked through the door, and I had wanted to leave immediately, but instead I had found myself a table and had gingerly sat down. Why though, I don’t know. I hadn’t been looking for a bar to drink in tonight. I guess I had been too embarrassed to leave once I was inside.

I look at the few regulars who are sitting at their tables, and at the many different music posters which decorate the walls. There’s mismatched furniture everywhere, and the smell of cigarette smoke wafting in from an open door assaults my senses.

As I glance around, taking in everything, I notice a few of the other customers are glancing at me, and I quickly start fiddling with my purse, which sits on top of the ring stained table, before a voice startles me.

‘Hi, there. . . what can I get you?’ an imposing, male figure asks, and as I glance up at him I feel my heart suddenly slam against my rib-cage.

‘Hugo. . .?’ I question in a small voice of disbelief.

I see the pad and pen which he’s holding almost fall out of his hands as he stares at me. ‘Tara. . .’ he says with that familiar smile of his. ‘My goodness. . . I almost didn’t recognise you.’

This doesn’t come as much of a surprise, as I know I must look tried and disheveled right now. I know my hair is a mess, and I’m wearing very little make-up, but I rarely leave my house these days. The past three years have been hard for me, and they seem to have taken their toll.

‘How are you?’ he asks me in a gentle tone.

I manage a small but brief smile. ‘Fine. . . thanks,’ I mutter, before I tell him how I didn’t expect to see him here. I want to know why he's working here, and what's happened to his Toyboy website, but he doesn't

'I didn't expect to see you here either,' he points out. 'I thought you were still in Leeds. What are you doing back here in London?'

I start to play with my hair, as I think of how to answer him. 'It's a long story,' I mumble, and I see him nod his head.

'It seems like you've had a rough time,' he says gently. 'Is there anything I can do to help?'

I smile at his kindness. 'No,' I reply quietly. 'Just seeing you again is enough. I'm now glad I found this place.'

‘I’m glad you did too,’ he tells me with a smile of his own. ‘I’ve missed you, Tara.’

I give him a look of disbelief. ‘Really? Then why didn’t you ever come to see me? You knew where I was. . . I gave you my address. . .’

He hesitates at my question, as he rubs the back of his neck. ‘I didn’t want to make things awkward,’ he explains. ‘I knew you were with Chantelle. . . I knew you were happy. . . I didn’t think I would be welcome. . .’

My heart sinks a little at his words, and I idly place a hand on my concealed baby bump. ‘Hugo. . .’ I start to say in a gentle tone, but he clears his throat.

‘Anyway. . . what can I get you?’ he asks me as he quickly turns his attention back to the pad in his hand.

I fumble with the small, laminated drinks menu which sits in the middle of the table, only to see there’s nothing but alcoholic drinks listed. I continue to rub my bump which is hidden underneath my thick jacket. ‘Um. . . I don’t really drink alcohol anymore,’ I tell him.

He blinks at me, as if my words have caught him off guard. ‘That’s fine. We have soft drinks too like cola. . . or lemonade. . .’ he tells me while tapping his pen against the small pad of paper.

‘I’ll have a lemonade, please,’ I tell him quietly.

‘Is that with ice?’

‘Yes,’ I reply, and I watch as he scribbles it down in his pad.

‘Okay. . . I’ll bring it right over.’

He disappears behind the bar, and as he makes me my drink I see the pretty looking girl, who had been behind the bar when I had walked in, start talking to him animatedly. I see him smile at whatever it is she’s saying, and I notice the flirtatious looks she gives him. They look pretty close, and it seems like I’m not the only one who moved on three years ago.

He finally brings my drink over, and I hope he’s going to let us talk some more, but he heads back over to the bar before I can say anything, and my heart continues to sink even lower. If only he knew. If only he knew that Chantelle had walked out on me when I had fallen pregnant with another guy’s baby.

It had just been a bit of fun; a drunken one night stand. I hadn’t expected to fall pregnant. I had tried to explain this to Chantelle. I had tried to tell her how we had used protection, but she hadn't listened.

I quickly finish my drink, and when he comes back over to collect my empty glass, I thrust a five pound note into his hand while telling him to keep the change. I want to get home so I no longer have to sit here with the smell of smoke wafting over to my table.

‘Will I see you again?’ he asks me.

‘I don’t know,’ I mutter as I avoid his eyes, and slip my purse back into my handbag. Seeing him again has made old and happy memories resurface, and I’m suddenly a little too overwhelmed.

I get up from table and hurriedly leave the bar, while shouldering my handbag, and I’m in such a rush to leave that I don’t notice my purse fall out of my bag and onto the floor, as I push my way through the heavy, wooden door. All I want to do is to get back to my flat, so I can be alone and try and absorb everything that’s happened tonight.