Promised Nights

by Louise Bay

  My stomach churned. It did feel wrong in some ways, uncomfortable. The person I wanted to celebrate with was Ashleigh. I felt as though I should be with her, not Fiona. I needed to stop pining, to do what she said and live my life. “Day drinking always feels illicit, right?”

  “I can’t stop for long. I have a thing tonight.” She tilted her head.

  I raised my eyebrows in response. Did she have a date? Fiona, at least, was living her life.

  “In fact, I shouldn’t be drinking. I’m babysitting. Well, my nephew’s twelve, so hardly a baby.”

  “So no hot date for you, then?”

  “Not tonight,” she replied.

  I wondered why she was single. She was pretty, smart and had abs of steel. The kind of girl they called marriage material. Ashleigh had told me to date, right? “Would you like to go to dinner sometime?” It wasn’t what I’d been planning to say, but now that I had, I hoped she’d say yes.

  She narrowed her eyes at me.

  I’d not asked a woman out for years. In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever asked Emma out. We just found ourselves in the same circle of friends a few times, and we kind of evolved from a drunken kiss. It felt like a lifetime ago. I’d been a kid. I’d thought for a few weeks that Fiona might like me, but her reaction to my invitation wasn’t overwhelming. “I mean, no big deal if you don’t want to. I just thought—”

  “No. That sounds good. Like on a date?”

  Was I about to make a giant twat of myself? I shrugged. “Yeah.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she nodded. “Okay. Dinner.”

  If only everything in my life could be as easy.

  Eighteen

  Ashleigh

  “I’m sick of feeling so fucking miserable. I’ve totally lost my funny.” I took a seat at Beth’s kitchen counter and collapsed forward dramatically. Beth had asked for some help with a project, and I was happy to have the company.

  “You’ve not lost your funny. You’re hilarious,” Beth responded.

  “I used to be funny. I used to be able to make people laugh. Now, I’m a harbinger of doom. Wherever I go, I bring misery.”

  “Now, you’re being funny, even if it is unintentional.”

  I grinned. It was entirely intentional. I was ready to be me again. I’d had enough of moping around the house and avoiding Luke. Well, avoiding Luke had been made easy. He hadn’t been in touch. Not since the Sunday Haven and Jake had been in Chicago. That was over a month ago. I’d gone to Sunday night dinner the following weekend, but according to Haven, Luke was working. I’d not seen him since I’d run out on him.

  “So you want to watch me get drunk?” I asked Beth.

  “How can I resist an offer like that? But first can you help me with this?” Beth asked, gesturing behind me with the wooden spoon she was holding.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw a camera set up on a tripod facing our direction. What the what? I turned back to watch Beth pour honey into a mixing bowl. “Errr, excuse me, however much you’re offering? I’m not filming us naked with honey doing . . . God knows what.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to pay you.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not doing it for free.” I laughed. “What I mean to say is, not in front of a camera. And not with you. No offense, you’re gorgeous and you have a banging bod, but no. I like dick. I mean, I’ve never . . . not on camera, and not with honey—”

  “Really?” Beth was looking at me as if I were totally crazy.

  “I’ve lost control of my mouth.”

  “You really have. Calm down. No one is getting naked.”

  “Okay, so what’s going on?”

  “I don’t want you to tell Jake, but I need you to set up the camera for me. I thought I might film myself bake and then put it on the Internet. I’ll film it tomorrow, but I thought you could set up the camera for me and I could leave it there until I’m ready.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I have to say I’m slightly disappointed. I thought my horizons were about to be broadened.”

  “By my banging bod? Thanks for that, by the way.” She lifted her shoulder, playfully flirting.

  “You’re welcome.” I grinned. There was a knock at the door and Beth went to answer it. I heard Haven chattering away in the hall. She and Beth lived in the same building. I probably should have told Haven when I arrived. I hoped she wasn’t mad I hadn’t.

  “Hello, gorgeous. Room for a third?” she asked when she saw me.

  I pulled her into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I feel like you’ve divorced me. I’ve not seen you in weeks.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted Luke to have a chance to come to Sunday dinner, and that didn’t seem likely if I was going, so . . .”

  “Well, he’s divorced me too. I’ve not seen him for weeks, either. How come when you two try and avoid each other, I end up missing you both? I wish you’d sort it out. He’s running today, apparently. A fun run.”

  “Sounds like an oxymoron. Is he with Fiona?”

  “I think so. It’s her running club or something.”

  My stomach pinched. It had been raining all day. It was too easy to imagine him soaked to the skin and miserable, then peeling off his wet clothes, revealing his harder than hard body, his toned abs, his thick arms as he pulled me into the shower . . . My thoughts of him were endless, but somehow against all odds, I’d resisted the temptation to call him. He needed time to work out what he wanted. Maybe that was Fiona.

  “Anyway,” I said, elongating the word like a six-year-old. “I’m trying to get my funny back.”

  “You need wine for that,” Haven said, rummaging in her bright pink Longchamp Le Pliage. “Sorry, Beth. Sober works for you, but not for this one.” She lifted her chin and pulled out a bottle of wine. “It’s already chilled.”

  I looked between Beth and Haven. I’d drunk in front of Beth before, but never in her house. “Is this okay with you? I was joking when I asked you about watching me get drunk.”

  “Of course. It’s totally fine, although, if you catch me taking a swig, then we’ve got problems.” She winked.

  I shook my head. “Haven, no, put it away.”

  “She’s joking. Aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.” Beth grinned. “Other people drinking isn’t a problem. It’s my drinking that’s the problem.”

  Beth always seemed so wise beyond her years. She’d been through a lot and it showed—not because she looked tired or bitter but because she radiated a confidence that’s only gained through experience.

  “Actually, can you just position that camera while you’re still sober?” Beth asked me as Haven found some wineglasses.

  I hopped off my stool and went over to the camera.

  “Should I ask about the camera?” Haven was frowning. “I mean, whatever you’re into, there’s no judgment here. In fact, I’m planning on filming myself for Jake while he’s in—”

  “There are some things you don’t need to share,” Beth said, covering her ears.

  “Hmmm, not true,” I replied. “Tell me more.”

  “Jake’s going to Chicago in a month. I was thinking of sending him with a gift. I’ll tell you the rest another time.”

  Beth rolled her eyes.

  This was nice. I’d not felt this comfortable, this at home, for ages.

  “Have you spoken to him?” Haven asked. Instantly my comfort shattered.

  I shook my head.

  “Ash, you know I love you . . .” My heart sank. I was about to get a verbal spanking. “But it’s been weeks, in fact, it’s been months since he split with Emma. When has enough time gone by?”

  It was a question I’d asked myself a million times. But it wasn’t about time. It was about experience. If Luke was staying at home, just waiting for me to come round, then there would never be enough time gone. “I don’t know.” I sighed. “I think we’ll both know if it’s right.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Beth said.

  Haven started to chew the i
nside of her cheek and fixated on her wine.

  “What’s bullshit?” I asked.

  “What happens if you just never see him again? The way you’re going, you might just end up avoiding each other until you’re both old and gray. He doesn’t know what you want, and to be honest, neither do I.”

  My pulse was hammering in my chest. Had I been an enormous idiot?

  “Sorry, I’m a compulsive truth teller. I sometimes forget we’re not related and it’s less acceptable,” Beth said.

  “Don’t be sorry for telling me what you think.” I welcomed her opinion. “It boils down to trust. At first, I thought it was all about me not trusting his change of heart. I didn’t want to be the second prize—he couldn’t be bothered to go out and find what he really wanted, so I got him by default. And that’s only half of it. I need to trust myself as well. I need to be willing to risk it all—my family, my friends, my future—everything that’s important to me to give it a shot with Luke.”

  Beth took a deep breath. “You need to understand how we’ll support you and love you no matter what. You’re not risking your family or friends. But, if you never take that next step with him, you might be risking your future.”

  Her words hit right to my core. Maybe she was right, that I was risking more by not giving us a chance.

  Luke

  “Would you like white or red?” I asked as our sommelier approached the table.

  Fiona shrugged. “I don’t mind. You choose.”

  This was new territory for me. Dating, and then having to think about what would make someone I didn’t know very well happy. Emma always drank Shiraz no matter where we were or what we were eating. Haven and Ashleigh would drink pretty much anything, but sauvignon blanc was their favorite white and pinot noir their favorite red. Now I was learning another woman’s preferences. It felt weird.

  “We’ll take a bottle of the champagne,” I said to the waiter. I knew she liked fizzy stuff because we’d had it at the bar. “Goes with anything, right?” I asked Fiona as the waiter turned away.

  “Sounds good.”

  She was smiling so that had to be good.

  “You look beautiful,” I said. She’d clearly put some effort into looking good and it suited her. She never wore much makeup to work, and none when we went running, but tonight she looked glamorous, sexy even, but not in a showy way. I’d never seen her brown hair down. It suited her, made her more feminine, as did her pink dress. She looked more like a woman than I’d ever seen before. This really was a date, which was . . . confusing.

  “So do you. Handsome, I mean.” Her cheeks flushed. It was sweet.

  I smiled. I was aware of every part of my body. It was as if I had to consciously remember to put one foot in front of the other, lift my arm, breathe in and out. I filled my lungs and fisted my hands at my sides. I could do this. There was nothing to be nervous about. Fiona and I spent loads of time together. I liked her; we got on. I’d known her for a long time, but only for a couple of months as anything except colleagues. But tonight shouldn’t be difficult. We had plenty in common and we liked each other.

  “So, did you train today?” she asked.

  I was grateful that she took hold of the conversation. I had migrated into idiot land and forgotten how to do small talk.

  “Yeah, in the gym. I did a session with that trainer I told you I was thinking about getting. We did some weights then I went on the treadmill.”

  “It’s good that you’ve got someone helping you with that stuff. I did the same thing at first. It’s too easy to injure yourself, but I guess you’ve used them before.” She brushed her hands up and down in the air, indicating the length of my body.

  I shrugged. “Not for a goal like this race. What about you? Did you go for a run?”

  “Yeah. Saturday mornings are my favorite. But I went early. At six. Then I got waxed and I had coffee with a girlfriend.”

  “You got waxed?” As I was finishing my question, I realized what she was saying and quickly broke eye contact. Shit, why did I have to ask her about the waxing? She’d been to the beauty parlor. She’d been preparing . . . for tonight. My palms started to sweat. Was she expecting to show me the waxed areas? I hadn’t even begun to contemplate sleeping with her.

  “It was a regular appointment. Not for tonight. I mean, if you’re a girl and you’re running, it’s important to keep . . . Oh Jesus. Please kill me now.” Her head rolled back.

  I started to laugh. The mention of waxing had broken the ice. “Let’s do a U-turn, shall we? How was coffee?”

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be allowed out. Yes. Thank you. Coffee was good. It was a friend I’ve known since I was five. We grew up together; she’s getting married, and she asked me to be bridesmaid. So, yes, it was good to see her.”

  “Oh, that’s really nice. When’s the wedding?”

  “Next summer. To be honest, I hate the idea. Can’t bear the whole big show and ridiculous dress, but it’s important to her so it’s an honor really.”

  I smiled. It seemed we had more in common than just triathlons.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?” I asked. Our conversations up until now had been mainly about work or training, so although in some ways I knew her quite well, in reality my knowledge of her private life was limited.

  “Two sisters. Both older. I’m the baby. The ugly duckling.”

  “The what?”

  “My sisters are supremely glamorous. I mean knockouts. I was always the tomboy.”

  “Well you don’t look like a tomboy tonight.”

  “God, did that sound as if I was fishing for compliments? I’m sorry, I really wasn’t. I love having gorgeous sisters now, well, most of the time. But, you know, in those awkward teen years it was tough. What am I saying? I bet you didn’t have those years.”

  I thought back. I didn’t remember any. “I think that’s more of a girl thing.” I didn’t really remember Haven or Ashleigh being awkward.

  “Maybe. Anyway, they’re happy; I’m happy. One lives in LA with her producer husband. The other lives in Barnes. She’s a lawyer too.”

  I liked hearing her talk about her family. “Are you close?”

  She seemed to think about that for a couple of seconds. “We don’t fight. But no, we’re not super close. I babysit and stuff, but we all have very different lives. What about you? You’re close to Haven.”

  I realized she already knew I had a sister. I must talk about her without even realizing it. “Yeah, we’re close. I get on well with her husband too.” I didn’t mention Ashleigh. Was I still close to her? Would we find a way back to each other, even if not as lovers? The thought turned my stomach. I hated not having her in my life.

  “You okay?” Fiona asked.

  “Yeah, fine. I remembered that I said I would call Haven today and I forgot.” The lie was easier than the truth.

  I shook my head and took a breath. I couldn’t be thinking about Ashleigh.

  After that, I relaxed and it became more natural to share details of my life with her and her with me. It was comfortable and nice. I liked her. She was sweet and caring.

  “Can you just wait here a minute?” I asked the cab driver as Fiona climbed out, and I followed her onto the pavement. “Thanks for a lovely evening,” I said as we walked toward her building.

  “Thank you. I had a really good time, Luke.” She smiled a half smile at me as we came to her front door.

  “So, I’ll see you at work on Monday?”

  She nodded. This was when I was meant to kiss her goodbye. She definitely gave the impression that it wouldn’t be unwelcome, but it had been so long since I’d been in this position. I got that same consciousness in my limbs that I’d had at the beginning of the evening. I liked her, and it was just a kiss. Glancing at the ground, I took a half step toward her, put my fingers under her chin and tilted her head. My gaze flicked between her mouth and her eyes once, then twice and then I bent, pressing my lips to hers. Her body swayed toward me,
and I caught the scent of her for the first time that evening. It was unfamiliar. She ran her hands down my arms, but before it could turn into anything more, I pulled away and whispered, “Good night.”

  I tried to remember the first time I’d kissed Emma. It had been similar. Nice. There’d been an awareness that we didn’t quite fit yet, but that we might. With Fiona it was the same. She was a nice girl, easy to be around and we had a lot in common—more than Emma and I ever had.

  But she wasn’t Ashleigh.

  Nineteen

  Ashleigh

  “This one is super comfortable,” I said to Richard as I rearranged myself on the sofa. Richard had moved into a new apartment and had asked me to help him find some new furniture.

  “You don’t like the brown leather?”

  My stomach churned. Brown leather sofas always reminded me of Luke, even if he had finally thrown his away.

  I shook my head. “Leather is cold in the winter and sticks to you in the summer. I’ve never understood its appeal. And it squeaks.”

  “Squeaks? Like talks to you? Have you seen a doctor for that?” Richard’s eyes were wide.

  “They do. You know—when you move around on them.” I blushed and looked away. I had totally imagined having sex with Luke every which way on his battered old sofa, and every time I had, the squeaks had been off-putting, even in a fantasy.

  Richard collapsed next to me. “Yeah, this one is comfortable. And it’s nice and deep. Do you think two people could lay on it together? I think we should spoon. Just to be sure.”

  I elbowed him in the ribs. “Stop it.” Richard had been flirting with me all morning, teasing me by saying we were going straight to the bed department to test out mattresses.

  “You’re meant to be here to help.” He slipped his hand around my shoulders and stuck his feet on the low table in front of him. “This works. But if you’ve vetoed leather, can I at least get a corner one?”

  What was it about boys and corner sofas? “If you have the space.”