by Fiona Lucas
Even so, she hauled herself up off the sofa and headed into the hall. It would be rude to bail out on Jeremy this late, so she really didn’t have a choice. She ran upstairs and got ready, but as she threaded her favorite earrings into her ears—the final touch—she stopped and looked at herself in the mirror.
There was something missing. But it wasn’t an accessory or an extra coat of mascara. It was something else . . .
Where was the fluttering in her stomach? Where were the butterflies that had terrified her so much when she’d first met Jeremy? Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t felt them in weeks.
Overthinking it again, Anna . . .
She shook herself, turned away from the mirror and headed downstairs to get her coat.
THE FILM WAS every bit as good as Anna hoped it would be, a well-acted drama with a heart-wrenching love story at its core. When the film ended, she couldn’t help shedding a tear. Jeremy reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m such a sap,” she said, smiling as she wiped her eyes with a tissue.
“My sister’s the same,” Jeremy said. “The happy ending gets her every time.”
Anna nodded, still smiling, and looked down. She didn’t want to contradict Jeremy, but that wasn’t exactly why she’d been feeling tearful.
She’d cried for the happy ending, yes, but she’d also cried for what might happen after the credits rolled. It could all get snatched away in a moment, didn’t they know that? And then there was a hole in your heart that meant you’d never feel that way again. It was gone and they’d never be able to get it back. For some reason, Anna couldn’t stop worrying about them, even though it was completely ridiculous because they were made-up people and would never exist outside of that film.
“I thought they had great chemistry, didn’t they?” Jeremy said as he and Anna rode the escalators back to the foyer. “I mean, they really made me believe in them as a couple.”
Anna agreed. The casting had been spot-on.
“I must admit, this film wouldn’t have been my first choice,” Jeremy said, smiling sheepishly. “Not a single car chase! And I don’t normally do romantic films, but this didn’t seem cheesy in the slightest. It made me think that’s what love should be like.”
Anna nodded. The romantic relationship had been handled really well. Maybe too well, if she couldn’t get it out of her head. Because it had reminded her of what she’d had with Spencer, something rare and all-consuming, dizzying and heart-stopping, but at the same time comfortable and . . . easy.
“Fancy a quick drink?” Jeremy said.
“Why not,” Anna replied, not quite ready to go home yet. She’d rather she got rid of this weird, shadowy feeling—like an emotional hangover from the movie—before she returned to her house alone.
The recent rain cast a glossy sheen on the night, reflecting streetlights in puddles, as they walked to a bar just around the corner from the cinema. As they waited for someone to serve them, Jeremy slid an arm around Anna’s waist and pulled her closer, a casually affectionate gesture that made her stop in her tracks.
It was nice to feel the warmth of his arm around her back, his hand resting lightly on the top of her hip, but that . . . That was it. There was no lovely rush of excitement; no sweet ache beginning to build inside. What had the butterflies done? Flown to warmer climes for the winter?
Jeremy ordered himself a red wine and Anna went along with his choice, her brain too full to survey the dizzying menu of cocktails. She stood there next to him, staring at the polished wood of the bar.
“Is that . . . Is that what you want from a relationship?” she asked, shifting so his arm fell away and turning to face him. “What they had in the film?”
He smiled at her. “Well, I’d rather not lose a leg like he did, but other than that, yes, of course. Isn’t that what everybody wants? Love? Passion?”
She nodded. “I suppose they do but . . .”
“But?” Jeremy’s eyebrows lifted. He was still smiling.
Anna swallowed. “I don’t know . . . Maybe I’m wrong, but I not sure it happens twice in one lifetime. I’d hoped it might, but now . . . I’m really not so sure.”
That would explain the lack of butterflies, the lack of any deeper feelings for Jeremy, despite the fact that Teresa was right—he was pretty damn near perfect for her. She’d been telling herself it was okay, she was just taking it slowly, but surely things shouldn’t have flatlined already. Six weeks into the relationship with Spencer, she’d been head over heels in love.
Jeremy’s expression turned more serious. “What are you saying, Anna?”
That was a very good question. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, to probe if she really could trust this new certainty forming in her heart.
“I think I’m saying that I’m not the right person for you, Jeremy. I thought I could be. I thought I could at least try, but . . .” She trailed off and shook her head, aware that the back of her nose had started to prickle.
“You want . . . that.” She gestured in the direction of the cinema. “The whole deal. And you deserve it! I just . . . I just don’t think I have enough left in the tank to do that again, even if I wanted to.”
Her Not Spencer alarm had been right all along. She should have listened to it.
Not to save herself from pain or to preserve Spencer’s memory, but to save Jeremy from having to wear his current expression of disappointment and surprise. He’d begun to invest in her emotionally, she suspected, and it really wasn’t fair to let him continue. She likely wouldn’t ever be able to give him what he really wanted and needed. It was time to tell him that, to be just as honest with him at the end of their relationship as she had been the first day they’d met. She took a sip of her wine and began what she knew was going to be a really uncomfortable conversation.
When they’d finished talking, Jeremy walked her down the road to the station so she could catch a black cab home. He was solemn, quiet, as they strolled side by side. “I’m so sorry,” she said for the thousandth time, and felt fresh tears dampening her lashes.
“It’s okay,” he said heavily as they stopped on the concourse outside the station. “I don’t like it, but I understand.” She reached up and hugged him tight. “Sorry,” she whispered again. “I hope you find the one you’re looking for, I really do . . . She’s just not me.”
They held on to each other for a few seconds. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered, and then they pulled apart.
“Likewise,” he said, then nodded her a farewell and turned and walked away down the hill. Anna let out a shuddering breath. She watched him for a moment, then approached the cabby at the front of the taxi line and gave him her address.
When she slammed her front door behind her, the first thing she did—before she even pulled off her coat—was phone Brody.
“Anna?”
“I just ended things with Jeremy,” she said, and promptly burst into tears.
Chapter Forty-Five
Brody listened as Anna outlined the events of the evening—the film, the bar, the goodbye. He didn’t say much, just let her talk.
“I just feel so awful,” she said forlornly. “I thought I was doing the right thing asking him out. I thought I was moving on. I didn’t mean to mess him around . . .”
“You didn’t,” Brody said. “Not from what I can tell. You were honest with him from the start, and no relationship is guaranteed, especially after just a handful of dates. If it didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel right . . .”
He tried not to notice the sense of lightness in his chest as he said this, tried not to feel pleased at all that bloody perfect Jeremy was out of the picture. He failed miserably.
“And you when you realized how you felt, you were honest with him, told him straightaway.”
Anna sighed. “I suppose I did. I just feel so . . .”
“Awful,” Brody finished for her and was rewarded with a little huff that he suspected was accompanied by a smile.
“The st
rangest thing is, I thought I was ready. I thought I could find someone new, but it won’t ever be the same, now I know I have to factor that in going forward.” She exhaled. “But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m a tiny bit relieved about that.”
“Relieved?”
“Yes. I can say this to you, Brody, because you understand, you know how deep the scars go when you lose someone that way. I’m not sure I want to love someone that much again, because how would I cope if it happened a second time?”
He sighed and nodded heavily, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. “You’re stronger than you think,” he told her. “And I’d be here for you.” He would always be there for her. “Don’t give up, Anna. You deserve to be happy.”
There was a muffled rustling noise of fabric against fabric, as if Anna were burrowing down into her sofa. “On the taxi ride home, I was thinking . . . I’ve decided no more dating for the moment. I’m going to concentrate on other areas of my life instead. Remember I told you I was hatching a plan to help other people like us—widows and widowers?” And she began to fill him in on the idea of using an app to do that, not quite a social network, but a way of connecting strangers who’d lived through similar experiences.
When she finished, he sat there, stunned. There was so much hope in her idea. She’d changed so much during the time he’d really gotten to know her: six months ago, he doubted she would have suggested such a thing. “I think that sounds amazing,” he said.
“I thought if anyone would understand my thinking, it would be you, Brody. I’m just pinning down some final details before I go and talk to someone about it, to see if it would be something someone else would be interested in developing.”
“Would it help to talk it through with someone?” he asked. “I don’t know much about this sort of stuff but I can listen if you need a sounding board.” And that was what they did for the next forty-five minutes, until Anna began yawning and they ended the call so she could go to bed.
Brody sat in his chair for at least another half an hour, pondering what she’d said, thinking about how dynamic she seemed compared to him. Even though she felt bad about the whole Jeremy thing, she was still trying new things, doing something with her life. She was making progress.
So are you, a little voice in his head whispered. In small ways, so are you.
He’d noted while they’d been talking that she hadn’t mentioned meeting up on New Year’s Eve again, but he sensed she hadn’t dropped the idea. His pulse trotted at the thought. They might not have talked about it during the last week or so, but in that time he also hadn’t said “no.”
He’d been planning to, but his brain had stalled, and he hadn’t been able to think of a good excuse. Not one he could tell Anna, anyway. She was curious, quiet, but full of questions. He’d managed not to reveal anything he didn’t want to so far, but if he met her face-to-face it might be a whole lot harder.
That was one excuse for not telling her he wouldn’t be going anywhere on New Year’s Eve. The other reason, the one he wasn’t even sure he wanted to admit to himself, was that, even if he’d been able to continue to dodge her questions, he wanted what she was offering way too much, especially now that he knew the “competition” was no longer in the picture.
To meet her just once, to hold her just once, was all he wanted. He’d be able to walk away not exactly happy but . . . satisfied. It would be enough.
It would have to be.
Liar.
No. Not a liar, he replied to the jeering voice inside his head. Just a realist. It was the only way he’d be able to cope.
He was in love with Anna.
How was that for honesty? It had been growing for months, and he’d tried to sidestep that truth, but he could now no longer avoid it. It was pathetic, really. And he’d put himself in this position by isolating himself so completely from the rest of humanity. Of course he was going to form a deep connection with the only person he’d talked to properly for years. He should have seen it coming.
And that person had been Anna. That had been his undoing. When she’d first phoned, he’d thought he was just being kind, helping her out. He’d had no idea that she’d give him far more than he could ever give her. Couldn’t she have been some whiny, self-absorbed woman who had irritated him? That might have been preferable. He’d have been able to block her number and forget about her. Damn Anna for being so brave and surprising. He hadn’t really stood a chance.
“It’s impossible,” he said out loud to no one, except maybe Lewis, who had put his head back down on his paws but was still looking at Brody. He sighed again, and his gaze wandered around his study. Eventually, it landed on his Not Elf. After her rescue from Moji’s shop, he’d put her back on the bookshelf beside his chair.
Usually, she seemed to be staring far off into the distance but tonight he had the strangest sensation that she was looking right back at him, staring into his eyes. Challenging him.
Why? she was saying to him. Why is it impossible?
That was the problem with having a good imagination. She was a lump of wood, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just like the woman who had inspired her creation, full of questions that seemed simple but were actually terrifically complicated to answer.
You know why, he replied. It just is.
Chapter Forty-Six
Anna stared up at the tall, wedge-shaped building that sat opposite Bromley South station. It was a bright, crisp autumn day and the sun glinted off the modern tower, making its glazed section almost too bright to look at. She felt a tremor in her stomach. This was where Rhys and Vijay, Spencer’s former business partners, now had their offices on the seventeenth floor.
Anna blew out a breath, stuck her hands in her coat pockets and marched herself up to the reception desk on the ground floor of the building. She hadn’t seen Spencer’s old partners for more than a year now, but she’d emailed them the Monday morning after her brainstorming session with Brody, outlining her idea for the app, asking them if they’d be interested in picking it up and running with it. They’d emailed back and asked for a meeting within forty-eight hours.
There were hugs from Spencer’s former partners when she arrived, and genuine smiles, which warmed her more than she cared to admit, followed by offers of coffee and delicious chewy chocolate biscuits, before she was led into a glass-walled meeting room that overlooked Shortlands valley. It seemed as if the whole world was crisp and full of frost-sharpened colors as it spread itself out for her below.
Rhys, a teddy bear of a guy, grinned at her as he leaned back in his fancy chrome and leather chair. “Anna . . . We’ve missed you!”
“Likewise—it looks like you’ve got an amazing setup here,” she said, smiling as she looked across the modern office space to where a team of what seemed like very young and very edgy employees were all busy “blue sky thinking” or whatever they did in these sort of places. “It’s a far cry from where you started.”
“From where we started.” Vijay sat down opposite her and passed her a cup of coffee that smelled rich and fragrant. “Remember those late-night meetings we used to have round your dining room table, dreaming up our plans for world domination?”
Anna laughed. “I definitely remember all the pizza boxes lying around the next morning!”
“We still have those pizza-fueled meetings,” Rhys admitted with a grin, “but now I make Vijay clear away the boxes.”
Vijay shot Rhys a dirty look then turned his attention back to Anna. “We wouldn’t be where we are now without you, Anna.”
Anna blushed a little. “Without Spencer, you mean . . .”
Rhys leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Well, yes. But also because of you.”
“Me?”
“I think you’re forgetting that one of our most popular features—the completely customizable interface—was your brainchild,” Vijay said.
Anna looked at him, confused. She didn’t remember having
anything to do with that. All she’d done was sit at a desk in the corner and add up the numbers, keep on top of the paperwork.
Vijay’s mouth hooked up at one corner as he took in Anna’s consternation. “When we came to you and asked you what you thought of our six brilliant and stylish color schemes, you said you hated every one of them.”
“Well, that was more personal taste than a business decision,” Anna said uncertainly.
“Yes, but it got us thinking about how different people’s tastes are, and how best we could cater to a wide range.”
Anna shrugged again. They were giving her more credit than she was due, but she wasn’t going to make a fuss about that.
Rhys leaned back again and sipped his mug of coffee. “I can see you’re not convinced.”
Anna gave him a crooked smile and a half shrug.
“Surely you remember coming up with the name?” he added. “BlockTime wouldn’t be BlockTime without you.”
“Well, I suppose there is that. But I always thought it was kind of unimaginative and basic. I never really understood why you went with that rather than one of the other ideas.”
Vijay gave Rhys a withering look. “This muppet wanted to call it Avocado.”
Rhys lifted his chin. “I happen to like avocados.”
This remark led to a bickering session about whose proposed name was the stupidest. It made Anna smile because, for all the edgy staff and high-tech office equipment, these were still the same two fellow geeks of Spencer’s who’d planned to start a company sitting round her dining table, surrounded by boxes of Meat Feast and Pepperoni Stuffed Crust pizzas.
“So, what are you up to next?” she asked, mostly to distract them.