by Louise Bay
“God, I meant to show you around.”
“It’s fine. Later.” She sank back into the chair, looking over the view, relaxed.
“I’ve cooked duck,” I said, proudly.
“Double wow. Duck? Are you sure it’s not from the Chinese place?” She raised her eyebrows at me.
“I’m sure.” I rolled my eyes. “Heard from Haven?” She was more likely to have spoken to my sister than I was and talking about Haven felt neutral.
“Yeah. She’s enjoying the city. Beth is dragging her around, showing her the sights. I think so Jake can spend time with his dad.”
“Haven can fend for herself.”
“I know, but you know how sweet Beth is. She’s trying to keep her occupied, I think.”
“Yeah.” I knew everything there was to know about keeping occupied.
“How’s the running?”
“The training’s good. I went out this morning.” Exercising in the morning created a calmness in me that stayed with me for the rest of the day, which helped my productivity at work and stopped me from calling Ashleigh every time I thought of her. “I’m trying to train six days a week.”
“Wow, are you eating more?” She absentmindedly trailed her eyes down my torso. I knew it wasn’t a muffin top that she looking at. The training had had an almost immediate effect on my body. I’d always been fit, but there was a definition under my skin that hadn’t been as sharp before. My clothes fit slightly differently. I felt tighter, stronger, faster. It was a powerful feeling, but nothing compared to watching Ashleigh look over my body as if it were chocolate.
My dick stirred as she wet her lips. I reached for my glass of wine, trying to shake it off. My movement interrupted her perusal of my abdomen, and a blush spread across her cheeks.
It was different between us, not because we were in a new place, but because it felt like a date. This didn’t feel like two old friends getting together for a dinner. She was watching me because she liked how I looked, and I couldn’t stop myself from imagining how she felt.
Maybe Ashleigh had always felt this and had managed to navigate the just friends thing, but for me something had changed and I couldn’t go back to how we were. I didn’t want to. What I wanted was to spread her out in front of me and have her for dinner.
I considered her over my glass. If I pushed things, would she resist me? Could she? Should I tell her how I was feeling, or would that be too much?
“Can I top you up?” I took her drink from her hands, deliberately brushing my fingers over hers. She jumped as if I were conducting electricity. I did my best to bury a grin.
She was toast.
She was mine.
I continued to watch her as I poured more wine. She seemed determined to admire the London skyline.
“How about that tour?” I asked.
I stood and she followed me back into the living room.
I headed to the back wall, pushing back walnut concertina doors. “This is my study. I guess you could use it as a dining space if you wanted to.”
“That’s great. Big.” She ran her fingers across my desk and along the back of my chair as she checked out the books on the bookshelf.
“Are these yours? I don’t remember them at . . . Emma’s.”
“Yeah, they’re mine. I never unpacked them.”
“God, yes, I remember this one. Didn’t you read this at school? You wrote an essay.” She’d picked up a copy of Lord of the Flies and flicked to the back cover. “You were obsessed with it. You called me Piggy for the entire summer.”
I frowned, but Ashleigh was turned toward the bookshelves so she couldn’t see. “I don’t remember that. I mean, I remember reading it and being obsessed, but I don’t remember calling you Piggy.”
“You don’t? I didn’t realize until years after that it wasn’t because of my thighs—oh and this one. Do you remember? We used to take turns reading it to each other under the magnolia tree in your parents’ garden.”
I nodded as I remembered the summer we passed The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn around as if it were a secret treasure, which of course, it was. I think we spent the entire summer under that tree, reading, laughing, fighting. I moved toward Ashleigh, close enough to sweep her hair from her neck. I yearned to see more of that perfect skin.
She continued to talk about that summer, the blossom, the way that ever since antebellum had been one of her favorite words. She chattered as if my fingers weren’t tangled in her hair, lingering over her neck, tracing her shoulder blades. God, she was mesmerizing. She smelled so sweet, so like summer. How had I resisted her allure for so long? Not seen how important she was to me? How precious, how sexy? My skin felt tight, as if I were going to burst if I didn’t feel her lips on mine.
“Ashleigh,” I whispered.
But instead of turning and reaching for me as I had expected, she stilled for a second before thrusting the book back on the shelf and hurrying out of the study.
What?
Had I done something wrong? Was I imagining the electricity between us?
I stalked after her to find her stuffing her phone back in her bag. Was she leaving? “Ashleigh.”
“I can’t. I mean, I melt when you’re near me—”
My heart surged. I smiled and she looked away. “That’s good, Ashleigh. Me too.”
“But you don’t get it. It’s been happening to me for years. I mean, it can’t feel the same for you. It’s too soon. It’s just been a few weeks since . . .”
“Since I woke up to what’s been right in front of me? That makes me an idiot, not unsure of my feelings. If I could turn back time and do things differently, realize what I had with you before, I’d do it. But I can’t, and I’m never going to be able to.”
“I know.” Her voice crackled as she spoke.
“It doesn’t mean this can’t work. Tell me what to do.” I just wanted to get to the part where I could hold her. I was ready. Couldn’t she see?
“I just need some time. You need some time.”
“I really don’t need more time.” I exhaled. “Will you ever be ready to trust me?”
“I don’t know, Luke. I’m scared. I’m sorry.”
Ashleigh
I was fucking up everything. Having Luke so close was confusing. It was as if I were careening down a mountain in a car with no brakes. I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it, but I knew how it was going to end.
Everything was so fucking perfect; it was maddening. He’d left Emma, rented his own place, taken up a hobby. Jesus, he’d even thrown out that bloody awful sofa he’d had since college. He was ticking every box that said he was ready. So why was I sitting with my head in my hands rather than lying naked beneath him?
The fact was, it was all too perfect, all too quick. I’d been worried Luke would see my concerns as a checklist for him to work though and conquer. I needed him to take the time to look at what he really wanted. Surely there was no way in the three weeks since we’d last kissed, last seen each other naked, that Luke could have worked through everything.
The problem was he looked ready; he seemed ready; he felt ready. His fingers on my neck lit me up. I was so tightly wound that maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see. I needed to jolt some sense back into myself.
“Ashleigh.” He said my name as if conjuring a spell. When had I become Ashleigh to him?
“I should go.”
The sofa dipped as he sat beside me. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t meant to touch you. I just . . . You look so touchable. I thought you wanted me to.”
I exhaled. That was the problem. Luke touching me was all I wanted. I scrubbed my hands across my face. “I do,” I said in a small voice. Instantly his hand went to my lower back, circling, soothing. He felt so easy, so right.
“Hey,” he said, pulling my hands from my face, cupping my cheek and forcing my eyes to his.
This man I’d been in love with my whole life seemed like he wanted me. Why couldn’t it be this easy? I tilted my he
ad into his hand as he pulled me onto to his lap.
“I got it, Ashleigh. I understood why you put the brakes on at first. But now? I want this. I want you.” His words had the opposite of their intended effect. He seemed so certain, and I knew he couldn’t be. Not in such a short space of time.
I scrambled off his knee. “No.”
“No, you don’t believe me? No, you don’t want me back?”
I did believe him, and of course I wanted him but it was too soon. “Not yet. You’re not ready.”
“Fucking hell, Ashleigh. How is it you get to decide when I’m ready? I’m telling you I am. And you know it. You’re in my flat, flirting with me, teasing me. Is that what this is? Are you just trying to make me want something I can’t have so I know how you’ve felt all these years?”
His voice became tighter, harder, louder with every word. He rose from the sofa, and I backed away from him. We’d had relatively few arguments over the years, but I remembered each one of them in their every detail. I regretted every cross word that had ever gone between us. “That’s not fair, Luke. You think I’m trying to pay you back?”
“Well? Are you?”
My hand grasped my chest. How could he think I’d ever want to hurt him? All I was doing was trying to protect myself. I needed to get out. I didn’t want him to see me cry, and I knew tears were next.
I grabbed my bag and headed toward the door. He followed me. “Are you just going to leave? That’s it? No discussion? Fucking perfect.”
“We’re not having a discussion. You’re shouting at me. I’m just trying—” I continued toward the door, stopping as I reached for the handle.
“To do what, exactly? Keep yourself and me miserable? Give yourself a reason not to be with me?”
The corridor was dark, but I could still see the shadow of Luke’s enormous frame covering me. He stood so close that if I just moved back an inch, my body would be pressed against his.
“Please.” I wasn’t sure what I was asking for. For him to be patient with me, for him to let me leave.
“Tell me what you want.” He spoke softly this time.
“I want to be sure of you and how you feel. If overnight you’ve decided you want me then just as quickly you can change your mind again. I want to be sure I’m not the easy option—”
“Believe me, I don’t think you’re the easy option. Especially not at the moment.” He sighed, and I felt him move away from me. I turned to face him. He was leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his head bowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Tell me how long I have to wait, what I have to do. I get that it was too soon after Emma when we first . . . But now—”
“There’s so much at stake.” My family, my security, my world were on the line.
“But so much to gain.”
“It’s still only a few weeks.”
“But not in my head, Ashleigh. I don’t think I was ever in deep with Emma. Not like I am with you. This is different. I can’t go back. You mean too much to me for me to think that this can’t work.”
My pulse was jumping in my neck. He was saying everything I wanted to hear. “We just need time.”
“I don’t.” He sounded so sure. “You might need time but I’m ready for the next stage of my life, and I don’t want to miss a moment.”
“Then will you give me time?” Maybe that was it. Maybe I needed time to adjust, to trust Luke’s feelings for me.
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Live your life, Luke. If we’re meant to happen, we’ll know when the time is right for both of us.”
Luke
“Wow, your pace has really come on.” Fiona grabbed my wrist, pressing at buttons on my tracker. “Yeah. Your speed has gone up by twenty percent in just a few weeks. That’s incredible.”
I fell forward, grasping my knees and desperately pulling air into my lungs as I waited for the thudding in my chest to reduce so I could speak, think.
Fiona was breathless, but didn’t seem close to passing out the way I was. How embarrassing. I knew she’d been training for far longer, but I hadn’t started from nothing. I’d always been a runner.
“Jesus, you’re fit,” I said, glancing up at her, finally able to form words.
“Thanks,” she said, coyly lifting one shoulder and giving me a small smile. “You’ve just started to train differently, but you’re doing really well. You need to mix it up though. Maybe start some circuit training. Don’t just concentrate on running, cycling and swimming. I know it sounds counterintuitive, but it will help.” She tapped my upper arm. “Come on. Keep walking.”
Fiona and I had been running a route around the city—it was so quiet at the weekends. All the commuters had dispersed, leaving behind empty office buildings and the few of us who lived within the square mile that made up London’s financial district. It had been a peaceful run, a stark contrast to barely being able to squeeze onto the pavements when walking on weekdays. Fiona said the parks of West London, where I’d always run before, got too busy at the weekends, especially if the weather was decent. Hyde Park had always been a favorite, but then it hadn’t mattered if people got in my way and slowed me down.
“Shall we grab a coffee?” I pointed to one of the few signs of life—a small cafe across the street. It gave me a reason to sit, which worked for me.
Fiona narrowed her eyes but nodded. “Sure.”
We ordered coffees—or in my case a juice and water, I was laying off the caffeine—and found a table near the window. There was only one other couple in the place. No wonder nothing was open around here, there weren’t any customers. I watched as they wordlessly swapped bits of the Sunday Times. I could have been watching Emma and me. Comfortable together. Unconsciously moving forward. Life didn’t require you to evaluate your relationship constantly, so most people just floated along if there was no reason to split. In a way, I was lucky that Emma had brought up marriage because I’d been forced to make a conscious choice about my future. I guess that was exactly what Ashleigh was afraid of—that I was happy to drift into coupledom, when for her it was a positive action. I took a deep breath at the realization. Maybe these weeks since I’d last seen Ashleigh were a good thing for us both.
“Are you enjoying it?” Fiona asked.
I swallowed my grapefruit juice. “It’s tangy.”
She laughed, and I was drawn to the movement of her breasts. “I meant the training.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I see. Yes. It’s brutal, and I’m not sure it’s a healthy thing to like brutal, but yes.”
I was enjoying the focus I was getting from it, the fact I didn’t have too much time on my hands and that I was working toward something. I’d enjoyed the way Ashleigh had looked at my changing body the last time she’d seen me. The heat in her eyes had led me to believe she wanted me.
I’d not seen her since then. I’d made excuses to miss Sunday dinners in the few weeks following, and there had been no phone calls, no contact. I’d hated it, particularly at first, and checked my phone relentlessly, waiting for her to tell me she was ready. Now I was nearly resigned to just letting things settle between us.
Fiona laughed. “It is brutal, but I like the feeling now,” she said, watching me twist the circular lid of my drink. “After running, the come down. The sweat beginning to dry, the awareness of the strengthened muscles under my skin, the adrenaline seeping away.” She stretched her arms, lifting tall in her chair, the hem of her shirt riding up and revealing a band of soft white skin.
She relaxed and I glanced back up at her face. She’d caught me checking her out. She smiled and I looked away.
“Yeah. I guess this bit’s good.” I stared out the window at nothing, not quite knowing what I meant. She was good company. And attractive.
“So what made you want to start to train? Bad breakup?” she asked.
Ashleigh and I hadn’t broken up; we hadn’t had a chance to break up. It struck me that I was post breakup,
just with Emma.
“I don’t know about bad . . .” I shifted in my seat, more comfortable now that the focus was away from her body, and back onto safer territory . . . kinda.
“How long were you a couple?”
“Three years. We were living together. I moved out.” A dull sensation radiated from my gut. It wasn’t sorrow—it was irritation, regret maybe, that I’d stayed as long as I had. I should have been braver, moved on sooner. The problem was, each day in itself wasn’t an issue. Emma and I didn’t hate each other, or continually fight. There’d been nothing pushing me away as such. It was just when I added up those days, they didn’t amount to much. All together we’d not mattered much to each other, there’d been nothing drawing us together, making us better as a couple. God, it felt like a lifetime ago. It had all happened before Ashleigh, and anyone before her seemed long ago. She was different. Every day with her mattered.
She nodded. “For me, it helped me clear my mind as well as kept me busy. I reckon I was over him the moment I passed the finish line of my first race.”
“Yours was a bad breakup?” I asked.
“At the time, I remember it being so. I was so sad, so angry. I wanted to kill him. Now, I look back and it’s difficult to recall why. I mean, he was an arsehole at times, but I blamed him for things I had no right to. I learned a huge lesson that we alone are responsible for our happiness. No one else can create that for us if we’re not ready for it.”
“But being with him didn’t make you happy?”
“Exactly. So I should have left. Not stayed and blamed him.”
I took a moment to absorb what she was saying. Was I looking for someone to make me happy? Was I afraid of being on my own? Maybe Ashleigh thought so, but that wasn’t it for me. I thought if anything the reason Emma and I had split was because I didn’t want to be responsible for her happiness, and I knew she couldn’t be responsible for mine. With Ashleigh, it was different. I wanted to make her happy.
“And you’re with someone now?” She’d never mentioned a boyfriend. What type of guy was she into?