Final Score. Michelle Betham

he knocked it back in one mouthful before throwing his head back and letting out a heavy, laboured sigh. His heart felt as though it was breaking, but that was a feeling he was used to now. Ever since he’d allowed himself to love her, he’d felt this pain, an intense, burning pain. And he’d thought he could handle it because he was Jim Allen. He could handle anything. Except this. This was killing him, and he couldn’t let that happen again. He couldn’t let it almost ruin him, like it had once tried to do before.

      Resisting the urge to take another shot of whiskey, he put the glass down and looked in the mirror on the wall above the sideboard. Pushing a hand through his hair, he stared at his reflection, blinking slowly as he noticed eyes that were tired, a face that was still impassive but a little more worn than he felt comfortable with. He had to get himself back on track. What had happened this afternoon with Amber had been a lapse he couldn’t allow to be repeated. He couldn’t let this distract him from what really mattered – his career; making sure this club was more successful than it had ever been. He had his sights set high, and he couldn’t let anything detract from that.

      Inhaling deeply he turned around and headed for the door, hesitating slightly as his hand reached out to open it. He could do this. Love not only broke your heart, it made you weak. And if there was one thing Jim Allen wasn’t, it was weak.

       Chapter Four

      ‘Are you serious?’ Debbie asked, sipping demurely on a large gin and tonic as the post-match Players’ Lounge began filling up with girlfriends, wives, friends and family.

      Amber leaned back against the wall, staring out ahead of her, smiling at people who waved hellos or smiled in her direction. ‘I don’t know, Debbie. I just know that I can’t stay here.’

      ‘And I thought things were okay with you and Ryan.’

      ‘They are… they were.’ She looked at her friend. Debbie Hogan – glamour model, gossip columnist, and wife of Ryan’s best friend, Newcastle Red Star defender Gary Blandford. ‘Things were fine. But fine isn’t enough, Debs. Fine isn’t how I want to live my life.’

      ‘And running away from things is?’

      ‘Oh, don’t you start. Just – don’t. Okay? I’ve had enough from him.’ She jerked her head towards Ronnie, who was standing over by the bar talking to one of his fellow pundits.

      ‘You don’t even like working in London, never mind living there.’

      Amber threw her head back, sighing heavily, and probably rather more loudly than she’d intended. But sometimes frustration got the better of her. ‘It’s hardly like I’m upping sticks and emigrating, is it? I have a house down there anyway, and like I told Ryan, I’ll probably be up here just as much as I usually am. I’m just… I’m just swapping bases for a while, that’s all.’

      Debbie took another sip of gin and tonic. ‘Sounds like a pointless waste of time, then, if you ask me.’

      ‘I’m not. You brought up the subject.’

      ‘Because I don’t understand, Amber. If things aren’t working out with Ryan, why not just tell him?’

      ‘I have just told him,’ Amber sighed, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

      ‘So what’s the prob… oh, hang on.’

      Amber turned her head to look at Debbie, but she didn’t say anything.

      ‘You haven’t?’

      ‘I haven’t, what?’

      ‘You and Jim.’

      ‘There is no me and Jim. We’re divorced, remember?’

      ‘That means nothing where you two are concerned.’

      ‘Why do people keep saying that?’

      Debbie narrowed her eyes as she continued to stare at her. ‘You’ve slept with him, haven’t you?’

      ‘No, I…’ Amber let out another sigh, this time one of resignation.

      ‘When?’

      ‘What is this? You’ll be reading me my rights next.’

      ‘When did you have sex with him, Amber?’

      ‘I’m not sure that’s any of your business.’

      ‘You’re my friend. It’s very much my business. When?’

      ‘Just before the game.’

      ‘Okay… and, what happened after that?’

      ‘Newcastle Red Star beat Wearside Spartans 3 – 2.’

      ‘Oh, Ronnie is so right about your tendency to be flippant when faced with something you don’t want to talk about. So, let me get this straight, you have sex with your ex-husband, and then you decide to move down to London to get away from him, is that right?’

      Amber just stared at Debbie for a second or two. ‘No. That is not right. I’d already made the decision to base myself down south before all this shit happened…’

      ‘This shit? Oh, so, it wasn’t good, then? Sex with Jim.’

      ‘Now who’s being flippant? I’m being serious here, Debbie. Ronnie told me I needed to sort myself out, so, that’s what I’m trying to do.’

      ‘By moving away from everything you know?’

      ‘Jesus, Debbie, come on. I’ve been working down there for over a year now, it’s hardly the end of the earth. And I just need the space, alright? I need the space.’

      ‘Why?’

      Amber stared at her again, knowing all too well she was trying to get her to admit to something she already knew. ‘I’m moving to London, end of subject.’

      ‘Okay. That’s me told,’ Debbie huffed, sucking up the last of her gin and tonic. ‘I’m off to get a refill.’

      Amber watched her walk over to the bar, whispering something to Ronnie that caused him to look over, and Amber could only hope it wasn’t enough to make him come and talk to her. She really wasn’t in the mood to discuss this any more, not today.

      ‘So you’re moving to London?’

      She felt her heart skip a ridiculous beat as the familiar American accent once more filled her head, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She didn’t think she was strong enough.

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

      ‘It wasn’t really the right time, was it? When you were fucking me up against your office door.’

      ‘I would have thought it was the perfect time.’

      Still she said nothing. She just dug her hands into her pockets and stared down at the ground.

      ‘You thought it was the perfect time to tell Ryan, though. Didn’t you?’

      She slowly looked up, raising her head so her eyes met his. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight, Jim. I haven’t been thinking straight for a while now. Ever since you walked back into my life my head’s been a fucking mess.’

      It was Jim’s turn to look away. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

      ‘You have no say in the matter. And I don’t want to hear you say that, okay? I don’t want you to say something like that when you don’t really mean it.’

      ‘I mean it.’ His eyes were back on hers, staring at her with an intensity that was quite frightening. ‘I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to be so far away I can’t see you or talk to you or…’

      ‘Hang on…’ That