Jac couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m working towards my sainthood.”
“Saint Jac.” Sasha tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It has a ring to it.”
“Yeah, yeah, mock me. You might as well join the ranks in giving me a hard time.”
“Aw, are you feeling picked on?”
“Always,” Jac said, throwing her lip out in a childish pout.
Sasha giggled and lightly slapped her arm. “Bet I can make it up to you?”
“Uh-huh. What do you plan to do? Make me a millionaire with a click of your fingers?”
“I was thinking dinner,” Sasha said with a frown, “but if money’s all you’re after—”
“Dinner?”
Sasha nodded.
“With you?”
“Well, yes. I was thinking you could use a home-cooked meal. We’ve eaten together every night this week here in the office. Always takeaway. I’m not sure you know what a vegetable is.”
“Oh, right. Dinner at home.” Jac swallowed down disappointment. Sasha wasn’t asking her out on a date, she was inviting her to her house, with her mother present. “That’d be great.”
“What? You’d prefer someone else cook for you?”
“No,” Jac said quickly as she started to realise the merit of a home-cooked meal…with Sasha, even with other people there. “You’re cooking? Not your mum?”
“No, not my house. I was thinking more like I’d put that wasted kitchen of yours to good use for a change. I’m pretty sure you’ve never cooked anything but coffee in there.”
“I refuse to say anything on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.”
Sasha chuckled. “As I suspected. Well, is that all right with you? I mean, we could go to my house of course. But Mum said she was seeing Mr Hunt again today, so…” She shuddered.
“Ah, I see your game now. You want to bribe me for the use of my spare room again.”
“Well, I couldn’t honestly say it hadn’t crossed my mind…like all day…but, no, I was going to cook for you, then leave you. Later. Much later. Like, well-after-my-mother-will-be-asleep later.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay, Sasha.” Anytime.
“Well, we’ll see. Now, since this meal is to soothe your wounded ego—”
“—while you hide from your mother.”
“Maybe, but anyhow…what’ll it be?”
“I don’t know. Whatever you want to make. You’re the cook.”
“Hm, chef, actually.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve had a few different jobs in the past. But that’s a story for another time, so come on. What do you want?”
“Anything?”
“Well, it’s almost six now, so it can’t be slow-roasted pork or a mutton casserole; we wouldn’t be eating until tomorrow if that were the case. But give me some ideas and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay, Chef, how about duck?”
“Duck’s fine. What kind? Chinese style with plum sauce or a more traditional English style? Maybe with a blackberry sauce, mushrooms, potatoes, some celeriac?”
“Oh, that sounds good.”
“Okay. Anything you don’t like? Allergies?”
“I don’t like bananas.”
“Okay. They don’t go very well with duck, so we’re fairly safe there.”
“Funny.”
“I thought so. Dessert?”
“Erm, anything.”
“Chocolate good for you?”
“Huh?”
“Are you okay with chocolate?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No. What do you mean?”
“Have you ever met a woman who wasn’t okay with chocolate?”
“One, yeah.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Not a mythical creature? Not an allergy of some sort?”
Sasha laughed. “No, she really didn’t like chocolate. She did like bananas, though.”
“Freak.”
“Probably should have told me all I needed to know, but hey-ho.”
“Ah. An ex?”
“Yeah,” Sasha said with a nod. “Long time ago.”
“How long since you split?”
“Five years. Not long before Mum got sick actually.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
“Not a lot to tell, really. We grew apart until one day I came home and she told me she was in love with someone else. And I realised I didn’t care enough to feel anything more than kicked in the gut because this other woman was ten years younger than me.” She laughed sadly. “Kinda said it all, really.”
Jac glanced over as they reached the doors to the building and she led Sasha to her car. She kept it in the car park at work in case she had to run out for meetings and such. “I was right.”
“About what?”
“She’s a freak.” Jac squeezed Sasha’s hand and their gazes locked. Sasha’s dark brown eyes were soft with unshed tears, and Jac didn’t believe for a second that Sasha hadn’t been more hurt by the idiot’s affair. Sasha cared, and the pain was there to see. “Do you still love her?” she asked as she drove on to the street.
“God, no.” Sasha’s answer was immediate and unequivocal. “Like I said, it was the blow to my ego—”
“You don’t need to do that. Not with me.”
“Do what?”
“Downplay it. You loved her enough to be with her. That’s more than a blow to the ego.”
“All right, you want honest? Pam’s affair cut deep. I’d thought we were settled. Yes, we got into a bit of a rut, and life seemed a bit, well, boring. But isn’t that what happens to everyone every so often? Isn’t that what grown-up relationships are when the drudgery of everyday life gets to you?”
“Not sure I can tell you.” Jac shrugged. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a grown-up relationship.”
“But we’d had good times. Still had a laugh together. History. She and I built a home together. But then it wasn’t enough for her. I wasn’t enough for Pam.”
Jac could see the battle inside Sasha. The battle for what she didn’t know. “Do me a favour, okay?” She glanced away as the lights turned green and she turned into the car park at the supermarket.
“What’s that?”
“Be honest with me. No hiding, no pretending. Just be yourself.” Something told Jac she hadn’t had that freedom in a long time, and she longed to give her the space to do so. To just be herself.
Sasha was quiet for a moment. “Will you do the same?”
Jac pondered the question while Sasha studied her intently with those coffee-dark eyes. Jac played through her head all the half-truths she’d already told Sasha and wondered how she would have reacted to full disclosure on each one.
Sasha licked her lips, then pulled the bottom one between her teeth as she waited. Jac’s belly flipped with the desire to kiss her and pull that lip between her own teeth.
“Will you?” Sasha prompted.
“Okay,” Jac said softly, almost too quiet to hear. God help me.
After a long moment, Sasha smiled and pointed out of the window. “Come on, then. I’ve seen the inside of your fridge. We definitely need a supermarket if I’m going to make you a duck dish.”
What have I just agreed to? Jac wondered.
The shopping trip flew by. Sasha selected items quickly and paid for them before Jac got her credit card out, saying simply, “My treat.” Jac or one of the others had paid for the takeaways every night of the week. This felt like she was getting off light.
When they were back in Jac’s apartment and everything was unpacked, she quickly set about finely dicing vegetables, searing the duck breasts, and setting the sauce to reduce while Jac sat across the kitchen island.
�
��Okay, I have one rule for tonight.” Jac held up a bottle of wine. “But, first, Merlot?”
“Yeah, that’ll work well with the fruity sauce. In fact, hand it over when you’ve uncorked it. A splash in the sauce will add a nice bit of depth.”
“Oui, Chef.” Jac sniggered and uncorked the bottle, then let it breathe a moment before she poured two glasses and passed the bottle to Sasha. Sasha sniffed it, letting the bouquet tantalise her senses before adding a decent glug to the pan.
“So, what’s your rule for the night?”
“No talk about work.”
“None?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Open and honest?”
“Of course.”
“I want to get to know you, Sasha. Not the woman behind the laptop.” She grinned that cocky grin that made Sasha’s insides tighten. “I want to know what makes you tick.”
She focused on checking the reduction of the sauce. “You do, huh?”
“Yup.”
Mushrooms were added to a pan. “Okay. Fire away.”
“Why did you stop being a chef?”
“That’s easy. Unsociable hours coupled with crappy pay. I fell out of love with it, so I decided to try something else.”
“And does being a massage therapist still tick all the boxes for you?”
Sasha snorted and sliced up some of the greens they’d bought. “It has more reasonable hours, and it’s a lot quieter. Customers one-to-one and the pay is marginally better.”
“And I’ll bet some of those customers don’t even speak, so you write in your head while you’re pummelling the knots in their backs, right?”
“It’s been known.”
“Any other careers you’ve taken for a test drive?”
“Hm, I’ve tried a few different things, but they were more jobs to pay the bills than a career I was pursuing or training for.”
“Stopgaps rather than destinations?”
“Exactly.” She stirred the saucepan and quickly tasted it, adding a little salt from the pinch pot she’d set on the counter. “What about you? What did you do at the BBC?”
“I worked my way up to producing some documentaries and then some drama shows. Nothing major, but enough to serve as an apprenticeship of sorts, I guess.”
“So it’s what you’ve always wanted to do?”
“Yes, but we’re straying dangerously close to the work topic now, so let’s change that.”
Sasha grinned. “Okay, then, I have a question for you.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds serious.” Jac sipped her wine, then put down the glass.
Shrugging, Sasha tossed the pan with mushrooms and cavolo nero sautéing in butter. “Never mind, then.”
“No, no. We had a deal.” She swirled the wine around in her glass. “Go on, hit me with it.”
“I just wondered, why Vanessa? I mean, of course she’s stunningly beautiful, but… I don’t know. I guess I’m curious. Have all your girlfriends been a lot younger than you?”
Jac took a deep breath and blew it out slowly between pursed lips. “Open and honest, right?”
Sasha nodded and waited, tending her pans and checking the duck breast in the oven.
“Well the easy answer is as shallow as that. She’s beautiful. I can’t deny it, and the attention was flattering. I mean, I’m honest enough to admit that. Who wouldn’t find it flattering when a woman half your age is throwing herself at you? And to answer the other question, yes. For, God, probably the last ten years or fifteen years—while we’ve been establishing the company—they’ve all been younger than me. And, yes, they’ve all been using me to some extent to try and further their careers. Either by a role I had to offer or by someone I could introduce them to.”
“If you knew they were using you, why go along with it?”
“Because it was easy. For the most part it was fun, and it stopped me being lonely in a way I didn’t have to commit too much of myself to while I was fully committed to making the company a success.” She shrugged. “I used them every bit as much as they used me, I suppose.” She pulled a face.
“What?”
“Makes me a bit of bitch really.”
Sasha frowned and shook a pan. “Did you force anyone into your bed?”
“God, no.”
“Did you make sleeping with you a condition of whatever role they were offered?”
“Before Vanessa I’ve never offered a role to a lover or an ex-lover.”
“Did you pursue them or did they seek you out?”
“They sought me out.”
“Then I think opportunist might be a better description to bitch.”
Jac gurgled. “Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry,” Sasha said as she pulled plates out of the top oven and plated the food.
“What about you?”
“I’ve never slept with Vanessa.”
“Funny,” Jac said with a laugh. “I know that. Pam, was it?”
“Yeah, Pam.”
“Was she older or younger?”
“Oh, right. Five years older.”
“And other relationships?”
“Similar kind of thing, I suppose. Pam and Claire were both just a little older than me.”
“Wow. So, long-term relationships all the way, hey?”
Sasha wanted to cringe. She really did sound boring. “Well, yeah.” She scrunched up her nose and pushed a plate and cutlery across the island to Jac. “I was always looking for what my mum and dad had.”
“Ah, perfect relationship set a high standard?”
She sat next to Jac and sliced into her duck breast, pleased with the perfectly cooked flesh that came away easily. “A little, I suppose, but it was more that they worked through their issues. They never hid the fact they had arguments or got pissed off with each other. But they never hid that they always made up afterwards and grew stronger from whatever it was. I think I was always looking for that in my partners.”
She thought again about Pam. Had she ever really let Pam see all of her? No. Was that where they went wrong? They’d had never fought, but then Pam had let her hide in her books and never tried to bridge the gap. And Sasha had been more than content to carry on like that. Would things have worked out differently if Sasha had tried a little harder? If she’d opened herself up to Pam?
Maybe, maybe not. One thing she did know was that there was no going back, no do-over, no repeats. And she would have no more regrets.
“Well,” Jac said, “looking for those kinds of relationships is not a bad thing.”
“No, but it seems it was impossible to find.”
“Was? You sound like you’ve given up looking.”
Jac took a bite and hummed. Sasha could see the reflection of the flavours dancing over her palate so clearly on her face it was as though she’d spoken her pleasure aloud. “Oh my God, that is amazing.” She pushed sauce over a mushroom and slid it into her mouth. “That sauce is just… Oh, I have no words.”
“It’s okay, then?”
Jac nodded and shovelled more into her mouth, waving her hands in front of her to stop conversation. Sasha chuckled and decided watching Jac eat was as enjoyable as the dish itself. Had there been more customers like this, I might have just stayed at the whole cheffing game.
When Jac finished the last bite, and crossed her cutlery on the plate, she leaned back on the high stool with a contented sigh. “That was amazing.”
Sasha’s cheeks warmed under the praise. “Better than potpourri?”
Jac groaned. “Did you have to remind me? I can still taste lavender on my tongue when I think about that.” She shuddered, then swiped her finger through the last of the sauce on her plate and sucked the digit clean.
Swallowing down the surge of desire the act invoked, Sasha stood abrup
tly and gathered the plates, then stacked them in the dishwasher. She took refuge in pulling a tray from the fridge and sliding it into the oven, checking the timer as she closed the door.
“Eight minutes.”
“Till what?” Jac asked, rubbing her stomach and sipping her wine.
“Chocolate.”
“Cool. So, have you?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Given up?”
“Oh.” She slid back into her seat and drank some more wine. “I’m not sure. I’ve been getting a lot of conflicting orders-slash-advice lately.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Well, since I was pushed into the opportunity of a lifetime, I’ve been told to chase what I want, charge after my dreams, and have faith that all my hard work will pay off, while at the same time I’m being told I need to stop planning for the future and live in the moment. Not to worry about what tomorrow will bring and have some fun.”
“Confusing.”
“A little.”
“And this confusion made you decide to give up looking for a partner?”
Sasha rested her head on one hand and glanced at Jac. “Maybe what I’ve given up is going into things with the same expectations as I always had before.”
“How so?”
“Well, I guess I went on dates with the typical expectations. You know, ‘get to a year and move in together, then that’s it forever’ kind of expectations.”
“You gave it a year?”
“At least.”
“A poor excuse for a lesbian.”
“Oh yeah, and what’s your timescale, Ms Stud?”
“Three to six months,” Jac said quietly into her glass, making Sasha chuckle again. “And now you’re open to what, a shorter timescale? No moving in together?”
“I don’t know. Maybe just taking that living-in-the-moment piece of advice on this and seeing what happens. Not going into it with the expectation that one good date or one kiss will lead to forever. That it can be just that—a fun experience rather than an expectation.”
“Can’t it be both?”
“Not in my experience.”
“That’s sad.”
Sasha glanced at the clock and went to remove their desserts from the oven. She sprinkled them with caster sugar and a dollop of whipped cream that she’d added sugar and vanilla to earlier before sliding one in front of Jac.
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