2 Book Bundle Her Last Love Affair II: Breathing Without You And Her Last Love Affair III: The Final Journey

by James, Clara

  ‘Sorry about last night. Have had time to think, and I was out of line. You’re right, it’s your decision and your life. And maybe you’re right about us parting being for the best, too. I don’t want to make things more difficult for you. If you need me though, you know where I am. Love, Reece’

  Allie sighed deeply, wondering whether she was relieved or hurt that he’d accepted her suggestion that she go back to seeing other people. Either way, it was over and that had to be a good thing. And she did want to go back to seeing other men; just moments ago she’d been excited about the possibility of seeing Patrick. Suddenly, that had seeped away and she silently cursed Reece for having that kind of power over her. Her thumb hovered over ‘reply’ for a few seconds and she was about to press it when there came a sharp knock at the door. Looking up from the phone, she stared at the blank wood, then glanced back at the phone’s screen.

  Inhaling sharply, she tossed the phone to her side and pushed herself up from the couch. “Coming,” she called, when the knock sounded an impatient second time. Reaching out, she grabbed the handle and pulled. She was met with the scent of Chanel No 5 and stepped back to make way for Rosalind.

  The blonde-haired, slender woman had a bounce in her step as she crossed the threshold. She wore a tight pair of cycle shorts and a sleeveless running shirt. She had an iPod clipped to the hem of her shirt; the cable to the ear buds tucked up inside and the white buds themselves flopping somewhere near her chest.

  Allie stood open-mouthed watching her friend. “Where have you been?” she asked, struggling not to laugh.

  “The gym,” Ros replied, as if the answer were obvious. She chose to ignore the slight hint of sarcasm she detected in the question.

  Closing the door, Allie’s upper half twisted to follow Rosalind entering the room and taking a seat on the couch. “What were you doing there?” she continued.

  “What do people usually do at the gym,” she asked, flicking her long hair off her shoulder indignantly.

  “Well,” Allie responded, leaning against the door as she stared at her friend with amusement. “Usually people go there to work out, but you don’t look or smell like you’ve been doing that.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ros scoffed, leaning back on the couch and crossing one smooth, nimble leg over the other. “I haven’t been running.”

  “Of course not,” Allie chuckled, as if the very suggestion was absurd.

  “What else do people do at the gym?”

  Opening her mouth to reply, Allie had to admit defeat and closed it again. Silently, she shrugged.

  “I’ve been trying to catch this guy’s eye,” Ros explained quickly. “He’s really hot and he’s like one of these super fit types, so I figured I could ‘bump’ into him at the gym and...”

  “And what?” Allie sniggered. “Impress with the amount of running you don’t do.”

  Ros stared deadpan at her friend. “I really don’t know why I come here,” she quipped, before allowing the smallest hint of a smile to tease at her lips.

  Mirroring the expression, Allie called a truce. Giggling, she asked, “Did it work?”

  Arching an eyebrow, Ros looked very pleased with herself, as she replied, “Let’s just say, I’ve got a date tonight.”

  Shaking her head in wonder, Allie pushed herself away from the door and approached the couch. She would have asked her how she did it, but the truth is all she had to do was look at her. Ros was, stereotypically, what every man looks for in a woman. And, of course, things don’t become stereotypical without being largely true.

  “How about you?” Ros eventually asked, breaking the silence.

  “Ahh,” she breathed in reply, flashing her friend a self-deprecating smile. “Remember I said it would be a bad idea to go on a date with my first love?” She waited for Ros’ nod of confirmation, before continuing, “Well, it was a bad idea.”

  “Oh shit,” came the sympathetic reply. “What happened?”

  Bored with her own fluctuating emotions, Allie gave Ros the Readers’ Digest version of the saga, before summing up with a, “So, now all I want is to go back to the original plan and try to forget all about Reece.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Ros quickly blurted. “You were in the hospital? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “It was no big deal,” she brushed aside. “I wasn’t on my own and I was only in there overnight.”

  Uncrossing her legs, Ros straightened herself and set concerned eyes on Allie’s face. For the first time that morning, she really studied her friend and noticed the paleness in her cheeks and black circles under her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, suspiciously. “You passing out must have meant something.”

  “I was tired and hadn’t eaten properly,” Allie responded calmly. “That was all it meant.”

  With a firm shake of her head, Ros indicated that she was not buying it. “There’s more to it than that. What’s going on?”

  Allie, avoided her eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to keep the news from her, but praying that something would prevent her from actually having to say the words out loud. However, after several seconds of silence, it became apparent that she wasn’t going to be saved by the bell. Drawing in a weary breath, she repeated what Dr. Luitger had told her.

  “Fucking hell,” Rosalind breathed, her eyes searching Allie’s face carefully. “So are you going to have the treatment?”

  Her response was a simple shake of the head.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Look, don’t you start,” Allie grumbled. “I’m a big girl, and I’m smart enough to know the ramifications if I take the treatment and if I don’t.”

  “I know, I know,” Ros quickly replied, soothing her friend’s anger with a light tough at her knee. “So, what now?” she sighed.

  Allie shrugged. “I’ll take things as they come,” she said, forcing a breeziness into her voice. “And I’m going back to my original goal. Having that weird quasi relationship with Reece messed me up. I’m more sure than ever that all I need is no-strings sex.”

  Not answering verbally, Ros flashed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You got someone in mind?” she asked, nudging Allie’s leg with her own. In truth, Rosalind was less concerned with Allie’s sexual exploration than she was with her health. However, it was evident than any further conversation about hospitals or treatment would simply result in frustrated antagonism on both sides. She suspected that Allie needed to forget about being sick and just live for the moment. If that brought her comfort, then Ros was only too happy to go along with it.

  “Hopefully,” Allie responded, unaware of the thoughts rolling through Rosalind’s head. She glanced to the coffee table and her open laptop, disappointed to see that there was no reply from Patrick. “He’s completely different from Reece, so I think he’s just what I need.”

  “Maybe,” Ros acknowledged, nodding in a way that seemed to speak of placation rather than agreement.

  “What?” Allie instantly responded, noting the expression and recognizing it well. “You don’t think so?”

  “Who knows,” Ros answered honestly. “You could be right. I just...” she inhaled, realizing she needed to tread carefully. “Knowing you like I do,” she resumed, changing tack. “It’s difficult to imagine you finding happiness like this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Allie, I know that to start with this was exciting, but is it really making you happy?”

  The reply came in a knee-jerk, “Long term happiness is something that’s impossible for me now.” Allie’s eyes darted back to the computer screen and she noticed that there was one new message in her inbox. Leaning forward, she tapped the mouse pad and opened the email. “Excitement and living for the here and now is all I’ve got,” she continued, while her gaze quickly scanned the screen.

  She only processed small snippets of the text, ‘...been following your career...’ ‘...would love to see you...’ As her brain half took in those words,
she continued to speak. “That was something I could never have with Reece, or in any proper relationship, because there would be the constant reminder of what’s ahead.”

  “I understand that,” Ros interjected quickly. “But...” she faltered, before sighing heavily. “Oh, I don’t know. I just want what’s best for you.”

  Allie chuckled humorlessly. “I don’t know quite what that is any more,” she admitted. “But I know what I want, and that’s all that matters.”

  Chapter Four

  One Night in France

  In preparation for her date, Allie had gone out and bought a new dress and some sexy red, three-inch stilettos. She’d also paid a visit to a beauty salon three days before she was due to meet Patrick, and had a full Brazilian wax. It was not something she’d ever done before and didn’t imagine she’d ever do; but for some reason she found herself wanting to appear as attractive as possible to him.

  On the night of the date, she felt slightly nauseous; it was almost like her first date with Carl, when she’d wondered how on Earth she would suggest a one night stand. Her palms were clammy and her fingers trembled, as she got dressed and put on her make up. In fact, she was so nervous that she resorted to downing a glass of white wine before leaving the apartment.

  He’d invited her to meet him outside a restaurant that he co-owned, apparently his interests went beyond journalism and he’d founded the place with a friend three years before. Allie knew of the restaurant, ‘Le Jardin Bistro’, but had never visited, partly because up until a few weeks ago she didn’t eat out regularly, and partly because she didn’t consider herself to be a huge fan of French cuisine.

  Nevertheless, as she wandered in, she had to admit that the small place was attractive. It was an intimate, romantic setting with no more than a dozen tables. And, it was clearly a popular spot, because every single one was occupied.

  A slender, young waitress, wearing a tight black skirt and pristine white blouse approached her. She smiled broadly, as she greeted Allie, “Welcome to Le Jardin, do you have a reservation?”

  “I’m here to see Patrick Branden,” she replied, her eyes tracing over the couples smiling at each other across the small tables. “I think he’s expecting me,” she added quietly.

  “I’ll go and get him for you,” the waitress responded efficiently, spinning on her heel and turning a corner into a small corridor.

  Allie remained still, smoothing her hands over her dress, and checking the paint on her nails one more time, before entwining her fingers in front of her. Pressing her lips together, to ensure that her lipstick was evenly coating them, she glanced down at her bright red shoes.

  “Allie,” the deep, joyfully call of her name echoed loudly across the quiet conversations of the diners.

  She instantly lifted her head and smiled at the man who was jogging toward her. She’d already guessed that he must be pushing fifty and his once jet black hair was now spackled with gray, particularly around the temples. His forehead was thinly lined, but other than that, he didn’t look any different from the way she remembered him. As he got closer, he didn’t slow and Allie instinctively opened her arms.

  Patrick did the same, scooping her around the waist and lifting her a few inches from the ground. He chuckled, as he spun her 180 degrees and then set her on her feet again. “It is so good to see you,” he said, pulling back just far enough that he could study her face. “You’ve been doing very well for yourself at the Chronicle,” he added, his hands resting on her hips and remaining there.

  “Thank you,” she replied, dipping her head as her cheeks flushed. She was used to getting compliments about her work and usually she thrived on them; but hearing praise from a man she’d placed on such a high pedestal was very different. “It’s good to see you, too,” she added, trying to force her eyes to his, but finding it difficult to hold them there.

  “So, err, you hungry?” he offered.

  “Yeah,” she responded, glad to have something else to talk about. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much room, though,” she noted, with a smile.

  “Not a problem,” he assured her, shaking his head. Gently, he released one hand from her, while slipping the other to the small of her back. With just the pressure of his palm, he turned her around and guided her down the hallway he’d just come from. “Our chef is great, you’re going to love the food,” he said conversationally, as he led her to a tiny set of stairs that was only wide enough for one person. He eased back with his own stride, allowing her to go first, but he kept one hand on her at all times.

  Allie liked the feel of his reassuring fingers, she also took it as a positive sign; an indication that she’d impressed him with more than just her journalistic talents. “I’m sure I will,” she acknowledged quietly, taking the stairs at a steady pace in her new heels.

  When she reached the top, she entered an open attic space. It was dimly lit, just like the lower dining area, but there was only one table. It was situated right in the middle and was covered in a long white cloth. Two place settings were already prepared, with glasses of water sitting beside each plate and a bottle of something rested in a champagne stand next to the table. Smiling, Allie twisted her face over her shoulder and watched Patrick climb the last couple of steps.

  “I thought it would be nice to have somewhere quiet, so we could talk,” he said, grinning.

  Yet another good sign, Allie noted silently.

  ***

  Over the course of two hours, Patrick had encouraged Allie to try a number of things she’d never tasted before. And, almost all of them, she’d enjoyed much more than she’d thought she would. As each hors d’oeuvre was placed before her, she asked, “what is this?” Much to her delight, the reply was never frog’s legs or snails. And, Patrick had been right; he obviously had a very talented chef working for him, because everything was delicious.

  “Hmm,” she mumbled, swallowing the last morsel of steak au poivre. “I can see why this place is so popular.”

  Patrick chuckled, resting his fork on his plate and leaning back in his chair. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he responded, reaching for the champagne and topping up Allie’s glass, before pouring some in his own. “How about desert?” he asked.

  “Ahh, I think you’re going to have to give me a minute,” she replied, resting the palm of her hand on her full stomach.

  Conversation throughout the meal had mainly centered on her internship at the Times, they reminisced over the stories they’d worked on during that period, people they’d interviewed and the one night that they’d stayed late at the office. Allie remembered that night well, because it was the closest she’d come to reciprocating Patrick’s advances. He’d always been a gentleman, none of his passes seemed harassing and she never felt uncomfortable around him. In fact, that night it had been quite the contrary. With the office entirely empty, she’d felt too comfortable; allowed herself, albeit briefly, to imagine what it would be like to have sex with him right there on his desk. He had seemed unaware of what she was thinking, his eyes were focused on his computer screen. But the fact that he’d asked, on two separate occasions, if she’d like to go for a drink with him, was enough for her to connect the dots.

  At the time, the twenty-two-year-old Allie had become increasingly wet, as she thought about being perched on the edge of his desk, with his bulk between her thighs. But before her impulses could fully take control and force her to make a move for him, she excused herself; went to the bathroom and threw some cold water on her face. When she’d returned, Patrick had made a break in the story and suddenly, she was too busy to let her libido bother her further.

  Sitting in front of him, eight years later, she felt a stab of regret. She had no way of knowing whether the encounter would have lived up to her fantasy, but there was no question it would have been hot; and it would have been a memory. “So,” she breathed, realizing that throughout their conversation, there was one thing that they hadn’t discussed. “Are you married now?”

 
A smile crept onto his lips, as he sipped on the champagne. Allie wasn’t sure whether that was because the question struck him as amusing, or whether he realized the purpose behind it. “I...err...” he began, his eyes taking on a reflective gaze, as they moved from her face to the table cloth. “I was married briefly,” he admitted, nodding. “It was one of those stupid impulsive things. So, needless to say, it didn’t last very long.”

  “Sorry,” Allie softly said, sensing that it wasn’t something that caused him a great deal of distress, but not knowing what else to say.

  “Don’t be,” he said. “I wasn’t a very good husband,” he added, shaking his head. “Never really got the hang of that whole fidelity thing.” The acknowledgment was made with openness and no great degree of guilt, but it was also not something he appeared to be proud of. It was a flaw that he was able to admit to. “But I suppose I’ve always been happier in shorter relationships, you know?” he continued, the thought coming out of his mouth, just as it came into his head. “That way, people don’t get too close. They don’t get to know you too well. It’s safer.”

  Allie nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. He’d articulated precisely the way she’d been feeling; and explained more eloquently than she ever could why things with Reece had become so painful so quickly. They knew each other too well, they were too close.

  “Anyway,” he quickly sighed, shaking his head and breaking the reflective mood that had descended over the pair of them. “What about you?”

  “Hmm?” she asked, finding it difficult to follow the sudden change of topic. “Oh,” she added, her brain making the connection. “Oh, no. I’m still very single.”

  “Too busy for all that, huh?” he asked, with a half-smile. “You weren’t letting anyone near even for a short time, were you?”