by Jessica Ames
She’s beautiful, Christ; she’s seriously beautiful. I knew she was good looking from her photographs on her profile but they don’t do her justice. She’s all softness and light and I’m not going to lie, my dick is paying attention.
I shift in my seat, trying to relieve some of the pressure as my jeans tighten and I cover my lap with my arms. The last thing I need her to see is the start of my boner and scare her off.
But it’s impossible not to be affected by her. Her blonde hair is short, touching just above her shoulders, one of which is uncovered where her knitted dress has slipped off it. And that dress? It shouldn’t look as good as it does, but it’s fucking delectable on her. She has a soft brow and a cute nose, full lips and the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re dark blue, wide and alluring as hell. I can’t stop from staring at her although I try not to gawk too much. I don’t want to look like a creep. But yeah, I’m completely taken with her. This desire is only fuelled further by her personality.
There was a brief moment of awkwardness when she first arrived and we started talking but that has long since disappeared. The more we’ve talked, the more interesting I’m finding her. In fact, I’m quickly becoming enthralled with her. She’s interesting, cute, and engaging in a way I haven’t had with another woman since… well, ever. And I feel guilty saying this but even with Mara things didn’t feel this instant or this electric. And Jesus, I wish that wasn’t the case, but it’s true all the same.
Because of this I don’t want to bring up the distance issue but I’d rather have it out there, in the open. “Is it a problem?”
She lets out a breath and pushes her hair back from her face. It’s a small gesture but I also like it a lot.
“It’s not that far.” My face must betray a hint of the scepticism I’m feeling because she shrugs; it is far. It’s a train ride and a ferry journey. “Okay, I’m not going to lie; at first I was kind of freaked about it but then I realised what’s a little bit of travelling if it means connecting with someone special? I want to find someone special and I don’t think distance matters when it comes to that. At least that is what Emily says.”
I have no clue who Emily is, but I love her for that advice.
“I definitely need to buy Emily a drink or ten. She sounds kind of sage.”
Sadie snorts. “She’s really not, but she does at times talk a lot of sense—usually when she has a skinful of booze in her. Luckily, this was one occasion where actually what she said did make sense and she was right. Distance doesn’t matter. Not really. What’s important is people.”
Emily may have become my new best friend.
“I feel the same too. Whatever happens down the line we can work out but life’s short and I don’t want to miss out on something good because I’m worried about distance. I don’t mind travelling to you.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
My eyes roam her face. “So, have you done much online dating before this?”
She leans into me and I get a nose full of her perfume and fuck me, it smells good. She smells amazing, in fact. I have to practically sit on my hands to stop myself from touching her.
“I’m an online dating virgin,” she says in a low but sultry as all hell voice. “You’re my first.”
I’m stopped from replying by a member of the bar staff approaching the table with her gin and a fresh pint for me. I don’t focus on the girl as she slides two fresh drinks onto the table, but keep my eyes locked on Sadie, unable to stop the amusement from bleeding through.
When the girl finally scurries off, I say, “Well, I’m happy to be your first, in that case.”
“I thought you might be.” She grabs the straw and takes a sip of the drink.
“What made you decide to do it?” I’m genuinely curious to know, and I’m not sure why but I feel like understanding where she’s coming from will help me understand if she’s genuinely in this.
“Actually, I didn’t decide. Funnily enough, this was another Emily moment. She signed me up without telling me.”
Her candour surprises me and it’s kind of refreshing that she doesn’t sugar-coat things; she’s straightforward and doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would play games. I get the feeling what you see is what you get with this woman, and I like that.
“I definitely owe Emily several large drinks.”
She laughs and I love how that sounds too. It’s light and airy, given with abandon.
“I wasn’t best pleased at first, but then I thought about it and decided what could it hurt to look. I about fell off my chair when I got matched.”
“Have you been single long?” It’s a direct question and she winces at it. Christ, me and my big mouth. “Sorry. Too direct?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” She glances away, her eyes going out the window to watch the mid-afternoon traffic passing by. “Well, my last relationship isn’t exactly a compelling love story and I don’t want to scare you away.”
That puts me on alert. Scare me? What the hell could have happened in her last relationship that could scare me? I pick up my pint and take a long sip before I speak again.
“Well, now I’m intrigued—and perhaps a little concerned,” I admit, although I probably shouldn’t have.
She winces again and her fingers go into her hair, pushing it back from her face.
“Oh God, how the hell do I explain this?”
She straightens in her chair, her eyes locking on to me and I feel like this is a test, and it’s a test I have to pass otherwise this thing is going to end before it even gets started.
So I soften my expression and keep my voice gentle as I say, “We all have a past, Sadie. Good, bad, it’s just part of us. I don’t want you to feel that you can’t share things with me.”
Her beautiful eyes flare wide at my words. “Well, I hope you still feel that way after I finish telling you this.” She takes a steadying breath then says, “I was jilted on the day of my wedding by my now ex.”
I stare at her, my brain trying to comprehend her words. She was jilted? On her wedding day? Whatever I’d been expecting her to say that was not it. Don’t get me wrong, I know life can throw some shitty curve balls, but jilted? That’s rough. I thought we were going to have problems with my past relationship history; I never expected her to have been through something like this.
My brows contract. “Holy crap.”
“You can say that again,” she mutters.
24
Sadie
He stares at me with something that can only be described as consternation, his heavy brows drawing down as his mouth works. Shit, have I ruined things by mentioning Richard the prick? He did ask, and honesty is the best policy—apparently. Right now I’m not so sure.
Finally, he manages to say, “He… jilted you?”
“Yup.”
“Just… didn’t turn up?”
I twist the glass between my hands, staring at the gin in the bottom as my lips curve into a grim parody of a smile.
“Oh, he turned up—just long enough to tell me he didn’t want to get married anymore and that he thought it would be better if we went our separate ways.”
“He did that on your wedding day?”
He looks horrified, which is unsurprising. This is the reaction I get from most people when they find out what Richard did to me.
At first, I felt embarrassed by what he did. There must have been something wrong with me for him to do that, right? But I’m coming to realise he was just a cowardly arsehole.
“Yeah, about ten minutes before I was supposed to be walking down the aisle.” I give him a wry smile. “It wasn’t the best day of my life.”
His hand goes to the back of his neck as his face contorts into a grimace. “No, I’d imagine not. What a dick.”
I snort at his frank words, grateful he’s not running out the front door of the pub for dear life. “You can say that again.”
He studies me carefully, leaning back into th
e seat as his fingers brush over his pint glass. “Well, some people don’t see what they have until it’s too late.”
The way he says this makes me swallow hard as a warm, pleasant feeling spreads through me. His gaze is intense, heated and I can’t help but be drawn in by it.
“I guess not.” Clearing my throat, I add, “Anyway, enough about me and my sad sob-story. What about you?”
I realise my mistake a moment too late. His mouth twists as he straightens in his seat. And I see that sadness that had been present in his photograph and that hides just behind his eyes come to the forefront for a beat before he manages to shove it back down again.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I say, my voice soft. I don’t want to bring up whatever it is that causes that look in his eyes.
He reaches for his pint glass and takes a deep slug. Then he slides the glass back on the table. For a moment, he just stares into the bottom of it and I think he’s not going to speak again but he does.
“I was married.”
This jolts me in my seat and I’m glad his attention is not on me. His profile didn’t mention anything about this. Not that it matters, I suppose, as long as it’s past tense. At our age, it’s hardly outside the realm of possibility that we would have an extensive dating history, one that could include marriage and kids. Does it bother me he was married previously? I don’t think it does.
I tilt my head to the side and give him a wry smile.
“So unlike me you actually made it down the aisle.”
As his gaze slides to me I regret making a joke because he looks upset. Oh, shit. Take your foot out of your bloody mouth, Sadie.
“I’m sorry,” I say automatically.
His mouth moves into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t apologise. It’s fine. I’m a widower; my wife died.”
My stomach drops at his words and at the fact I made a crass joke. “Oh my God; Cal, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. If I’d known. Bloody hell. Me and my big mouth.”
His smile this time is a little more genuine. “Don’t apologise; you weren’t to know.”
“No, but I still feel awful.”
He eyes me cautiously, as if waiting for me to freak out. When I don’t he relaxes a little.
“Well, there really is no need. It was a long time ago.”
“Do you mind talking about it?” He shakes his head so I take that as my cue to continue. “How long ago did she pass?”
“Just over six years ago.”
“What happened to her?”
His fingers scrub through his hair and I know I should stop asking questions but I don’t because I want to know. I need to know.
“It was a freak accident. Nothing I could have prepared for, nothing any of us could have prepared for. It came completely out of left field and it hit me like a wrecking ball. I’m not going to do you the discourtesy of lying to you; it took a long time to come to terms with it. A really long time. For a while, I was pissed off at everyone and everything, but I dealt with it and I’m ready to move on. I have been for a while.”
“That sounds terrible. It’s meaningless to say but I am sorry.” And I am. I had to watch my mother go through the grief of losing my father before she found Henry. I know how hard it can be and the thought of Callum going through that makes my chest feel tight.
“Thank you.”
“What was she like?”
He stares at me a beat then his brows shift upwards, the crease between his eyes deepening. “She was a good woman, a great partner, but she wasn’t perfect. She was stubborn, difficult, we fought a lot.” His mouth pulls into a line. Then his fingers go into his hair. “I don’t know that we should be talking about this on our first date. I don’t want to make you feel awkward.”
I reach out across the table and grab his hand. His skin is warm and rough, hands built from working outdoors on the boat no doubt. His eyes instantly lower to our combined grasp before raising to meet my gaze.
“I don’t feel awkward. Not at all. She’s a part of you. That doesn’t change because someone else comes on the scene.”
He stares at me as if I’m an apparition. “Where did you come from?”
I blink at his words. “What?”
“Usually, when I mention Mara and losing her I can see the dust coming off their feet as they run away. You’re not like that.”
I tilt my head to the side as I consider this man, this beautiful man.
“I lost my father and saw my mother struggle to come out of the other side. She did eventually, and she met Henry doing it. Do I think that diminished what she felt for my dad? Not at all. I think she had enough love to give to Dad’s memory and to give to her future with Henry. And I think that is the case with you too.”
His mouth moves slightly, as if he wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. “Seriously, where did you come from?”
I laugh a little at his words. “Life isn’t straightforward, Cal. Things happen. I’m sure you would have stayed with Mara until you both grew old if you could have, but life doesn’t always go the way we want. I know better than most that love is fluid and it isn’t always limited to one person.”
I watch as his hand goes to the back of his neck. “I can’t even tell you how much of a relief it is to hear you say that. Mara’s a part of my history, but she’s not a part of my future. I have room for another person in my life, and I will give my all to that person. I’m ready to open myself up to someone again.”
His candour surprises me but it is welcome. I’ve never been in a relationship with such open and honest dialogue. Not that we’re in a relationship yet, but the fact he is like this already gives me hope for any future we may have. Richard’s secrets destroyed us in the end, although we were doomed before that, from the moment he started lying about his feelings. In many ways, he was like a child, lacking even the basic ability to talk like a grown up.
“I guess we both have difficult pasts.” And that is certainly true. Does it define any potential relationship we may have going forward? I don’t think so. My past is hardly a fairy tale, and I would be absolutely horrified if he refused to date me because I was jilted. Therefore, being weird with him because he was left a widower would be an unjust thing to do.
“Let’s hope we don’t have difficult futures,” he says with a wry smile. “And what about you?”
I snap my gaze up and meet his eyes, unable to stop my brow from flexing.
“What about me?”
“Are you ready to open up to someone again?”
I rub my hands together and this time my gaze goes to the window. For a moment, I watch an older couple helping each other up the road, leaning on each other for support. That is what I want—richer and poorer, better or worse; I want it all. And I want it with a partner who feels the same. Letting go of the past is necessary for that to happen and I am ready to let it go. Richard isn’t part of my future any more than Mara is a part of Callum’s. And unlike Callum, I don’t need to nor want to keep my ex in my heart.
I turn back to him.
“I’m ready. I was ready before but things didn’t work out as I planned.”
“Good, because now that I’ve met you I’m not sure I’m going to want to let you go.”
25
Callum
Talking about Mara leaves me feeling wrung out, tired and mostly sad. Grief is a powerful emotion and it’s something I don’t want to bring into a new relationship. Thankfully, Sadie seems to grasp how Mara’s death has affected me, and I’m grateful for that. I think unless you’ve been in that situation you can’t really understand the emotions that go with it. Mara is dead and she’s not coming back but that doesn’t mean I can just forget about her, and I don’t think I would like to be with a woman who expected that. I know it’s a big ask, having three people in a relationship, but I can’t change that—not yet, anyway. In time, I may be able to but for now I can’t. Mara was a part of my life for a long time, pretty much my entire life, in fact
; even before we got together we were friends. So while I’m ready to settle down again, I’m not sure I can just erase her from my past as if she never existed; I’m glad Sadie seems like she’s going to be fine about the whole thing.
I am surprised though. Historically, this is not what happens. Sharing usually leads to rejection. I’m glad that didn’t happen because I don’t think I can handle her walking away before I’ve really got to know her properly. Although if she had done that I guess it would have been better for her to hurt me now than months down the line, right?
“Well, reserve judgement. You may find me a lot less interesting once you get to know me,” Sadie says in response to my comment about not letting her go. I watch as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and I want to push my fingers into her hair. I can’t, not yet. It’s far too soon for that.
I also have to resist the urge to tell her how amazing I think she is, how grateful I am that she didn’t make things weird about Mara, and shrug. “I take people how I find them.”
A pink flush goes through her cheeks and I find that alluring as hell.
“And how do you find me?”
“Smart, funny, beautiful, sensitive, kind. Do you want me to go on?”
Her flush deepens and I like that too. She’s also adorable but I’m not sure she’d appreciate that description so I don’t say it.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
I grin. “I give you a list of qualities and I get ‘you’re not so bad yourself’?”
She snorts. “Do you need me to stroke your ego?”
“Not really; I have enough without it, but I was being serious. You are all those things, and more. I’m really glad we met up.”
“So am I,” she says and I can tell she means it.
That makes me feel really good. I know I only had a small sample of online dating before I matched with Sadie, but that small insight was more than enough to put me off it forever. I’ve never been a man who lacks confidence but having women repeatedly reject you based on trivial facts is more than a little soul destroying. If things don’t work out with Sadie, I don’t think I can do more of it. I don’t want to be part of the window dressing, there to be examined and judged. It’s a truly awful approach to finding love, although if it works out I may revise that thought process.