She's the One

by Teresa F. Morgan

  “Good to hear. What are you doing tonight? I’m so sorry I can’t be there. I feel terrible.”

  “It’s okay,” momentarily she sounded disappointed, “I really do miss you though.”

  “I miss you too.” That was the truth. He’d never known anything like it. He wondered if his feelings for Erica had been as strong, compared to what he felt now.

  “Anyway, don’t feel too bad, I’m sure you’ll make up for it,” she purred, sending a quiver of excitement straight to his groin. “Ruby and Alice are coming over, bringing a Chinese takeaway and some DVDs with them.” Her tone was bubbly and she really didn’t seem annoyed with him. “So, how was your day, how did the interview go?”

  Steve leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling – as if that would give him inspiration – and tried not to exhale a groan.

  “Lydie, I don’t want to talk about it. I might jinx my chances.”

  “Have you got another interview tomorrow? Or are you coming home?”

  He had more work tomorrow. “No, I have to stay for another day at least. Today was just the aptitude tests.”

  “That’s good news, isn’t it? They wouldn’t bother interviewing you if you hadn’t passed the tests.”

  The Devil was possibly clearing out a spot in Hell right now for Steve as he spoke. “Yes, yes, I suppose so.”

  “So what is this job? Tell me.”

  “Uh…it’s a sales job…for a national company…” he said cautiously, “They have offices in Bristol.” More lies. Would Lydia still forgive him when she found out the truth? He was riding on what he’d told her about once being an estate agent – hopefully she believed he was good at sales.

  “Oh, what’s the name of the company?”

  Damn, should never have mentioned a company. Schoolboy error.

  Steve sat up quickly, turning to get off the bed, and hit his temple on the silver spotlight reading lamp which hooked over the bed. “Ow!”

  “Stuart…Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes,” I’m just looking for inspiration. He glanced out the hotel window; not a company name to help him. He opened the mini-bar…Schwepps, Coca-Cola, Heineken, Piper-Hiedsieck champagne…“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.” If he made up a name, it would be just his luck she’d Google the company.

  “Are you going onto Big Brother and you can’t tell me about it?”

  “No—”

  “You’re not being interviewed by Sir Alan Sugar are you?” she giggled.

  He laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m not being interviewed by Sir Alan either.”

  “I’m imagining someone like him though. All these rounds of interviews and everything, sounds so daunting. Will you be in front of a panel?”

  “Lydie, I’m sorry, I’m tired…” How did he change the subject? At this rate, he’d get an award in compulsive lying if he didn’t stop now.

  “Okay, I’m sorry, I know, you don’t want to jinx it.” She still sounded excited and giggly. At least Lydia didn’t do diva strops.

  “Tell me about your day? What have you been up to with your day off?”

  “Oh, I got some illustrations finished. My portfolio is nearly ready to send off to publishers and agents.”

  Steve relaxed back onto the bed, and closed his eyes to alleviate his headache, and let Lydia talk about her drawings.

  ***

  Wednesday 18th December

  Only a week until Christmas, Steve thought, trying to relax as best he could in the back of the car, returning from London. The seatbelt rubbed at his collar, and resting against the headrest, he sat too upright. Yet, he was glad to be chauffeured, as the drone of the tyres on tarmac and the radio low lulled him into a sleepy state. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. It had been three demanding long days, and a shock to the system – the hotel work seemed easy in comparison.

  Due to the dark winter mornings and evenings, he’d arrived early and left late under the cover of darkness, staying hidden within the studio. He hadn’t seen the light of day and had worked his ass off to get his lines right – enabling him to leave London at three p.m. today. Seeing clips of him as his character on screen helped him to focus. Nothing Happened was about a guy down on his luck, trying to prove to his friends and family, and the police, that a suspicious photo is all rather innocent. There were more sessions scheduled for January, so he’d check with Marie about those for future arrangements. By then, he would have told Lydia the truth, and wouldn’t need to sneak about.

  She could come with me and share my hotel bed…

  His head rolled forward, startling him from his sleepy state, and he stared out of the car window, the murky countryside filing past. The driver had been paid for his discretion and wasn’t the talkative type. The overweight man, in his mid-fifties, kept his eyes on the road and drove. Too uncomfortable to sleep, Steve thought about his plan of action. He would shower and begrudgingly change back into his disguise of Mediocre Man, with his high street clothes and ridiculous glasses – he hadn’t missed those. He certainly had missed his tailored suits and how much more comfortable they were though. Then, his first port of call would be to make it up to Lydia. Before leaving for London, he had rearranged the restaurant reservation. So close to Christmas, he wasn’t sure how he’d managed it, but they’d been accommodating, although Steve and Lydia had to be seated early. But if she opened her present first, he couldn’t promise whether they’d make it to dinner. They could spend the whole evening in her bed. He would be happy with that.

  Remember Lydia deserves to be spoilt first.

  Unfortunately Steve had been snapped by some photographers as he’d entered the studios yesterday morning, but Marie had press releases ready to explain why Steve Mason was in town, confirming he was returning to Los Angeles in time for Christmas. A limo had taken him to Heathrow, where another inconspicuous car had collected him, making the switch, while his double boarded a plane.

  He smirked, shaking his head. Would they notice the Caribbean tan he now wore on the plane, compared to the photos snapped of him looking a lot paler entering the studios?

  Christmas Eve was only six days away, Steve kept worrying. He’d tell Lydia by then. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, or how he would to do it, but she had to learn the truth. He agonised over how she would react. She was the one for Stuart Fisher, but would she want to be the one for Steve Mason?

  Steve wanted a future with Lydia. For the past three days, she was all he had thought of. The way her delicate fingers were stained with inks and paints, and how she usually wore a smudge on her cheek or nose unknowingly. How she laughed with him, sharing silly jokes; the way her blonde hair felt smooth as he combed his fingers through it; the way their bodies melded together perfectly when making love…

  He loved her and he needed to tell her. His heart ached as if it had been ripped from his chest, stamped on a few times, and put back upside down, he missed her so much.

  How would he cope when he returned to LA? Would she come with him? He rolled over ideas in his head, how he’d set up a studio for her in his apartment so she could do the thing she loved – her illustrations.

  Lydia was in his every thought, always on his mind. The minute he woke, she’d be in his thoughts. The ADR had kept him busy, but as soon as he had a moment’s rest, he’d lapse into thinking about her, checking his phone to see if she’d text him. A yearning to want to see her, hear her voice, kiss her, touch her, make love…

  God, he hoped she loved him too. He couldn’t suffer a broken heart twice, could he?

  He grew impatient, thinking this car journey was insufferably long. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. Then, with relief, he saw a motorway sign for the M5 junction, only one mile away. They weren’t far away now. Soon he’d be home and soon he’d be back with Lydia.

  Chapter 26

  Steve pressed the doorbell, and as he heard the door chime, he hid behind the large bouquet of flowers he was holding. The door opened and he app
eared around them.

  “Boo!”

  “Stuart!” Lydia lunged at him. The name threw him just as much off balance. He wobbled, regaining his equilibrium on the step where he stood, holding the flowers out so she didn’t crush them as she smacked her lips onto his. He held a gift bag in his other hand, and tried the best he could to tighten his hold on her. It felt wonderful to have her back in his arms.

  “I’m happy to see you too,” Steve said, when she’d pulled out of the kiss. “Happy birthday, I’m so sorry it’s late.”

  “It’s all right, I understand you had to go away for an interview.” Lydia grabbed his shirt, kissed him again then pulled him inside. “Oh, you smell so good. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you.”

  “These are for you, to say I’m sorry,” he handed the bouquet over. “And this is your birthday present.”

  “Have I got time to open it now?”

  “Yeah, sure, but the restaurant’s booked for seven.” He’d showered and changed in record time to get there, knowing they had to be at the restaurant early.

  He admired Lydia as she tore at the wrapping paper like an excited child, her blue eyes complemented by the sapphire blue evening dress she wore. She’d straightened her blonde hair, so the layers chopped and swished as her head moved. He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage keeping his hands to himself all evening. His groin already ached in approval.

  She pulled the matching underwear garments from the box and smiled coyly.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling, her eyes wide with a knowing excitement.

  “I hope I got the sizes right. I wasn’t rummaging through your underwear drawer, honest.” He held up his hands, grinning cheekily. “But one morning, well, you know, your underwear was just lying around…so I thought I’d check.”

  “No, it looks perfect.” She smoothed the pink satin between her fingers admiring the lingerie. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we have time for me to try anything on.”

  She put the garments back into the box and stroked along his clean-shaven cheek, cupping his face, kissing him. As she pulled out of the kiss, her teeth grazed his tongue. He growled sexily, as it sent excitement straight between his thighs.

  “Lydia,” he said warningly, “we’ve got to go out.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m such a tease, but I’ve missed you so much, Stuart.”

  There it was again. Stabbed with guilt, his stomach turned cold.

  She wiped the lipstick off his lips. “I better go touch up.” As she disappeared upstairs, Steve spied a newspaper open on the coffee table. His heart pounded, blood ringing in his ears. Page seven, and there he was, going into the London studio, opening the damn door. He was glad he was wearing shades, but the headline was obviously questioning how long he’d been in the UK. Had Lydia read this? He heard her coming down the stairs and rustled the paper closed, pushing it away. He quickly relaxed back on the sofa, arms behind his head, hoping he didn’t look like a naughty child caught in the act. He concentrated on getting his breath back to a less erratic state. If she’d put two and two together, she’d have said something, wouldn’t she? Maybe he should talk over dinner.

  “Ready?” he said, standing up, holding out Lydia’s jacket to help her into it.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Steve drove them to the restaurant in Clifton. He’d chosen a place that wasn’t too flashy, taking heed of Ruby’s advice not to splash his money around, but something with a little class and uniqueness to make the evening special. Unfortunately, they were only serving a Christmas menu, but that would have been the same two nights ago.

  “Hey, it’s the problem I have with my birthday being so close to Christmas,” Lydia said, sipping her glass of Prosecco as the waiter served the starters. They’d both opted for breaded brie wedges with a warm cranberry sauce.

  “Maybe in the future, we can celebrate your birthday in June. Have a second birthday.”

  “Oh, Stuart, that’s sweet.”

  “If it’s good enough for the queen, it’s good enough for you.” He beamed, raising his champagne flute.

  For their mains, they’d both opted for roast beef as they’d be eating plenty of turkey soon enough. As they tucked into their dinners, everything was swimming along nicely. The conversation, the flirting, like Lydia slipping off her shoe to give a little shin rub with her toe. He’d asked the questions, letting her talk, hoping to avoid probes about where he had been for the past few days. But it was inevitable.

  “So, tell me, how did you get on in London?” Lydia asked once the waiter had cleared away their plates. She flicked her hair out of her face, and leaned onto the table, her breasts pushing together, emphasising her beautiful cleavage. “You haven’t mentioned it all night.”

  He shrugged. “Lydia, I don’t want to talk about it. Tonight is about you.”

  “Oh, go on, how do you think you’ve done? You were there for the three days. So you must have done well.”

  Steve took a sip from the one glass of sparkling wine he was allowed to have and had to make last. What could he say? Maybe he needed to prepare Lydia. He still couldn’t quite bring himself to tell her the truth. Not here anyway. Because if someone overheard then it would be autographs, photographs…

  No, he needed to do it privately. Just the two of them.

  Holding her hand, he gently circled his thumb in her palm.

  “What is it?” she said, frowning.

  “Let’s say I get this job. It would mean I have to travel…” With his anxiety, sweat beaded around his hairline.

  “So?”

  “Well, I could be away months at a time. Would you come with me?”

  “Stuart, I don’t know…We’ve not been seeing each other that long. I don’t think I could afford—”

  “Hey, I’d support you. I’ll be earning enough.” He tightened his grip around her hand, reassuringly. “You could concentrate on your drawings, on getting published.”

  “But what if it doesn’t work out? Where would that leave me?”

  “I wouldn’t leave you without. I’d make sure you were provided for.” She frowned. “Okay, okay, just think about it. Because…”

  “Because?”

  “This job, if I get it, means not being in the UK much.”

  “Okay…but I thought you said they had offices in Bristol.”

  Damn, shit, bugger! He really needed to remember his lies.

  “That’s where I’m based from, but there’s a lot of travelling involved.”

  The disappointment in Lydia’s face made Steve need to elaborate more. He wasn’t doing this to get away from her. Far from it. “Look, I applied for this job before anything happened with us.”

  “I know. It’s okay. Really.”

  The waiter arrived with their desserts, allowing Steve to change the conversation to something where he didn’t have to fabricate the truth. He’d chosen the raspberry pavlova, and Lydia had picked some chocolate indulgence, both agreeing they’d eat enough Christmas pudding over the festive period.

  “This is good, you need to try it.” He scooped up a small portion of meringue and strawberries, holding out the spoon to Lydia. Delicately, she took his spoon into her mouth, then nodded and licked her lips agreeably. He hadn’t meant it to be erotic, but the slightest glimpse of Lydia’s tongue sent desire through his bones.

  After the meal, Steve pulled up outside Lydia’s house.

  “You’re coming in, right?” she said, tugging at his tie. “I’ve got to try on my birthday present…” she purred in Steve’s ear.

  “Try and stop me.”

  They kissed, stumbling into Lydia’s house. All night Steve had wanted this. He’d feared he’d blown it, mentioning working away. Lydia had gone quiet. But now, she eagerly tugged at his shirt, while he unzipped her dress. It dropped to her ankles, revealing black lace.

  “You know, why don’t you show me your present another day? I’ll just take my time with this tonight.” He tucked a thumb into her
knickers, a rumble releasing from his chest.

  “Okay, it’ll be your Christmas present.”

  ***

  Saturday 21st December

  Today was the shortest day of the year; winter had truly arrived, and with the sky filled with grey clouds for most of the afternoon, it made it feel even shorter. With it already dark outside, technically Steve hadn’t seen daylight. Depressing. Today he missed the LA sunshine.

  The weekend was hectic with the run up to Christmas. The majority of the guests were staying for a weekend break to do shopping in Bristol. Tonight was the last Christmas party at the hotel too. There was so much to organise; moving the furniture, uncovering the dance floor, more balloons were arriving. Steve hadn’t stopped all day. The hotel rooms would be full tonight, the majority of the guests were choosing to stay over rather than get a taxi home.

  He had finished his shift and was waiting for Callum. The last people he served were a young couple in their thirties. They both wore wedding bands, so Steve assumed they were married to each other. Although these days, you never could tell. By the amount of carrier bags the man held, they’d obviously been Christmas shopping.

  Steve closed the dishwasher and approached them at the bar.

  “What can I get you both?” he said.

  “I think I’ll have a glass of your house white,” the woman said. “Or is it too early for wine?”

  “As my sister would say, it’s never too early.” Steve grinned.

  “I’ll have a bottle of Bud,” the husband said.

  Steve served the drinks, and took the payment. The wife looked at Steve quizzically, as if studying his face. Having been in London and spotted by the press, did he look too familiar? The couple whispered. Paranoia set in, and Steve fiddled with his glasses and remembered to slouch in his stance. He decided to go back to his work, and clear away glasses. Luckily, Callum came bouncing in full of Christmas cheer to relieve him.

  “Ho, ho, ho, sorry I’m late.”

  “No worries, I’ve got to wait for Ruby anyway. See you Christmas Eve if not before?”

  “Can’t wait, mate.” Callum beamed.

  Steve changed out of his uniform, and wandered back to Ruby’s office.