by Louise Bay
I had to steady myself against the counter. Was he serious? I’d carried this guilt around for a decade, pushing myself to make my brother proud, to ensure his sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing.
“What’s going on? You’re freaking me out. What’s happened?” Luke asked.
My heart sped up and my mouth dried. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get the words out. I took a deep breath and smoothed back my hair, twisting it as if I were about to put it into a bun, then I dropped it. “I told Robert I didn’t want the promotion.”
“Oh my God,” Ash said.
“And I resigned,” I said, staring into my champagne glass, butterflies fluttering in my stomach, some of them excitement about my future and some nervousness about the reactions of those I loved.
“Oh my God,” Luke and Ash chorused.
“What happened and why? And are you okay . . .” Ash sounded worried.
“I stopped loving it. I used to be proud to tell people I worked at Rallegra. I’m not quite sure if I’m not as proud of it anymore, or if it’s just not important what people think. I just don’t get the same pleasure from saying where I work. And more importantly, they’re not interested in running the kinds of stories that I want to write. I’m not sure they ever were. I kidded myself into thinking I would change things as I got promoted, but that’s never going to happen. If I ever got Robert’s job, I’d have to turn down articles about sexism in the workplace in favor of botched plastic surgery. That’s what the readers want. And I think I’ve decided that I’m not a Rallegra reader.”
“I never thought you were,” Luke said.
“Are you mad?” I asked.
“Why would you think I’d be mad?”
“Well, you had a successful sister up until about two hours ago. And I could never have done it if it hadn’t been for you.”
“I couldn’t be more proud of you, Haven,” Luke said. “You are kind and thoughtful and loyal. I don’t give a shit what you do for a living. I want you to be happy. I didn’t make any grand sacrifice when I chose law over cooking. I don’t know how you’ve tricked yourself into believing that. I wanted to make sure you were safe and secure, but I wanted to make sure I was safe and secure, too. If Mum and Dad hadn’t died, maybe I would have been a chef, but that’s about me, not you. I’m sorry you ever felt any pressure to do anything because of choices I made.”
Tears spilled out of my eyes, a mixture of relief and love. Luke pulled me into a hug.
“I had no idea this is how you felt,” he said. “I just want you to be happy.”
I felt lighter, as if each word he spoke lifted weight from my shoulders and spine.
“We never talk about them,” I said into his sweater.
“You never talk about them. Sometimes Ash and I do. I like to remember them and wonder what they would think about how we turned out. I like to think we would have Sunday dinner with them like we do now.”
“But Dad would cook?” I smiled.
“Dad would definitely cook,” he said as he chuckled.
“Do you remember that time your mother served us raw chicken?” Ash asked.
I pulled out of the hug with Luke, but kept my arm around his waist. “How we didn’t all end up in hospital after that, I have no idea,” I said. “Urgh and that weird thing she did with the egg and the fish?”
“She was a terrible cook,” Luke said as he squeezed me.
Ash slid off the counter and raised her glass. “Can I propose a toast? To Mr. and Mrs. Daniels and their two amazing children, who I love more than chocolate. They would be so proud of both of you.”
Luke put his free arm around her and pulled her into him as I stood silently pulling memories into my conscious thoughts.
Luke broke the silence first. “As an older brother, I’m delighted you have decided to make a change in your life, but I do have to ask—do you have a plan?”
I started to laugh. “Not really. I thought I would research some of these Internet news websites.”
“Do you need money?” he asked.
“Thanks, Dad, but I’m okay for now. I have some savings and I’ve got to work a month’s notice. I’m going to see where the wind blows me.”
Ash reached over and placed her hand against my forehead. “Have you got a fever? You always have a plan.”
I shrugged. “I’m trying something new, breaking my rules. This way, I get to decide the future I want, the person I want to be and the person I deserve to be with.”
Forty-One
Jake
“Feeling better?” Beth shouted from the living room as I slipped off my trainers in the hallway. I’d been out for less than an hour and my whole life had changed. My ears rang, and I pushed my palms against them trying to get rid of it.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I shouted back and headed to my bedroom.
I turned the water up as hot as it would go. I wanted no trace of Millie in my life. I wanted to burn her from my skin.
As I’d walked home, I’d called Millie’s sister, Lauren. Part of me wondered whether Millie was still pregnant, but telling me she wasn’t because she wanted me out of her life. But Lauren had confirmed that Millie had never been pregnant, and it had simply been an attempt to get us back together.
I opened my eyes under the water, wanting every part of me to be renewed and refreshed. It stung, and the sensation brought a hint of relief. Eventually, the water ran cold and I climbed out, pulled on some clothes and went to find Beth.
She muted the television and looked up at me expectantly.
“Millie’s not pregnant. Never was. It was all an act to get me to marry her or something.”
Beth turned toward me. “What?”
“I saw her outside a restaurant drinking and smoking, and as you can imagine, I wasn’t very happy about it.”
“Jesus, I knew that girl was up to something, but I just thought she’d got knocked up by a plumber and was trying to make you take responsibility for it.”
“Yeah, well, you told me so.” I hadn’t wanted Millie to be the monster that Beth had seen all along. I didn’t want to have dated someone like that.
“God, I’m sorry, Jake. Are you disappointed?”
I collapsed on the sofa and she sat beside me.
“Maybe a little,” I said. “Not that I would relish having Millie around for the rest of my life but . . .”
“You thought you were going to be a dad.”
My chest tightened.
“I’m not sure I’d completely let myself believe that the child was mine, but yeah, I thought I was going to have a . . .” I’d pictured my future as a father, in a new apartment with Haven. Now what was I left with?
Beth shuffled closer and put her arm around me. I concentrated on my breathing.
“I’m sorry, is this painful for you, talking about this?” I asked. Beth’s lost baby had been real. Mine just felt that way.
Beth shook her head. “Not at all. The stuff with Louis happened a long time ago and you can’t compare them. Maybe it’s a terrible thing to say, but that loss provided me with a different future—one I’m starting to enjoy. Maybe you’ll feel the same when you’ve had time to digest things. Millie really isn’t the woman you should have as the mother of your children.”
I nodded. That was for sure.
“You think I’d have done okay as a dad?” I asked.
“I think you’ll be a wonderful father. Maybe it’s time to ask yourself who you want to be the mother of your children. You need someone who will be just as good a mother as you will be a father.”
I closed my eyes. All I could see was Haven.
“Fucking A,” I shouted as the results started to trickle in. Eric had been building and testing the simulation model for weeks now, and although initial testing had been positive and in line with the initial model, this was judgment day. We had been able to plug in much more data now, so it was really going to show us whether we were on the right track. Everything about Ele
mental Energy was going great.
“It’s looking good,” Eric said. He never got excited about anything.
“Good? It’s fucking fantastic.”
Eric grinned and nodded. “We need to start on the sensitivity analysis if this works.”
“I know, but fuck. Awesome.” I banged my fist on the table. Things were going exactly to plan.
My phone vibrated against my leg. I pulled it from my pocket. It was Beth.
“Hey, we just ran the first full simulation with the new data and it’s amazing,” I said, excited.
“All I hear when you talk about work is ‘blah blah blah science.’ Don’t waste your breath on me.”
I chuckled. “Okay. So tell me why you’re bothering me at work?”
“The boxes have arrived, and I need to know if you want me to pack anything in the kitchen.”
“I thought the movers were packing? I hope they are because I’m not staying up all night to—”
“Keep your panties on. I’m packing some personal stuff myself, but the movers will do it all if you want them to.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. The less I have to do, the better.”
“Everything in my room will go into my apartment, so I’m going to start moving some stuff from the living room and kitchen into my room tonight, so it doesn’t get mixed up when they arrive tomorrow.”
“It’s going to be so strange not having to put up with your mess anymore.”
“As if. I’m not messy. You’re the one with the aversion to cleaning.”
“Whatever, I want to get back to celebrating our major breakthrough, so I’m hanging up.”
“Oh yes, and Gay Dave called. He wants to talk to you about your Paris pictures or something.”
Tomorrow I’d move out of the apartment I’d lived in for the last decade. I would miss living with Beth, but she would only be downstairs. This was good for her. Part of the reason for the move had been the baby but even now, without that motive, I was looking forward to a future that I’d been resisting for too long. With Elemental Energy gaining momentum every day, the next step was the move. Then I’d be ready for the final piece of the puzzle. I couldn’t see myself in the new apartment without Haven, and it was partly why I’d bought it. I knew it wouldn’t work without her. I just had to figure out how to convince her of that.
“Pizza,” I snapped.
“Chinese,” Beth countered.
“It’s like tradition that you have pizza after you’ve moved house. And we can’t order Chinese in the afternoon. It’s wrong.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Okay, as long as I can have garlic bread and ice cream.” She sighed as if she’d just given up her right to free speech.
I ordered the pizza and joined Beth on the sofa.
“This place is beautiful. It looks like somewhere a multimillionaire would live.”
“It feels like a place I’ll grow into.” I felt more at home here than I’d expected to. Perhaps because Beth was with me. Perhaps because I was excited about what the new apartment meant.
“The only thing it’s missing is a woman’s touch—”
“Don’t get any ideas. I’m keeping the pool table.”
“I wasn’t talking about me, dumbass. I mean you. It’s been over two months since you split with Haven.”
“Yeah, I get it. You’re not subtle.”
“I think you should call her.”
“I got it covered. Leave it with me. I’m not letting her go.”
I hadn’t called her, and I hadn’t decided on what I was going to say to her when I did. All I knew was that now I was here, sitting in the apartment she helped me choose, she had to be with me to share it. This was our future, and I wasn’t about to start it without her. My thoughts of her hadn’t lessened. Instead, I found myself imagining our future together, thinking about her hair, the way she looked right before she came. The images got clearer; they’d never dulled.
“You were right,” I said. “I should have fought harder for her. I knew she would try to push me away and when she did, I was so weakened by wanting what was best for her, so confused about everything going on in my own life, I gave in and let her walk away. I should have fought.”
“It’s not too late.”
“It will never be too late.” I smiled. It might be the fight of my life. She could be with someone else, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t stop until she was here with me. I knew how she felt about me. She might not have said the words, but she loved me and that was worth a fight. And now was as good a time to start as any.
“Where are you going?” Beth asked as I leapt to my feet and grabbed my keys and my phone.
“Dave wants to see me at the gallery, and I have a stop to make first.”
“A stop? What about the pizza?”
“Pizza can wait. Like you said, this place needs a woman’s touch.”
Forty-Two
Haven
Getting lost in London was quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do. It was the beginning of my second week working as a freelance writer. I’d contacted various Internet news outlets and one of them had said they would look at an article about sexism in the workplace. I’d barely slept for the last few days as I dug up as much background as I could on the subject. I was more excited about writing than I had been in years.
To get myself out of my flat, a few times a week I had taken the first bus that came along, and got off at a random stop and found myself a café to work in. I enjoyed the freedom of it. Today I’d ended up in Chelsea.
I found myself a seat outside an uber-cool coffee house, ordered a drink and opened my laptop. I sat back as my computer booted up and I watched the world go by. It was a busy street, and I took in the shoppers paused at windows and delivery drivers unloading their packages. Everyone had a role to play. To the left of me, there was someone busying away on their phones, and to the right a group of three women having a catch up over coffee. I smiled. It felt good that this was my place of work.
Jake was never far from my mind, but I pushed him back into my memories whenever he escaped. It was too painful to think about him for long and I was sure the pain would consume me, pull me under like a riptide. I had to hold that in—I wasn’t ready to deal with that yet. I wasn’t sure if I ever would be. I hoped he was happy. If I could have done things over, I would have fought harder for him. Millie might be having his baby, but I knew I could make him happy. He loved me, and I should have trusted that.
I pulled my attention back to my laptop and began to type.
Two drained coffee cups and a half-eaten sandwich later, it started to rain lightly. The hours had slipped by. I gathered up my things, left money for my coffee and headed back to the bus stop. As I was about halfway down the street, my phone began to buzz in my bag. I stopped and dug it out.
It was Ash.
“Hey.” As I answered, I lifted my head and found myself staring into a familiar art gallery window. It looked like the place where Jake had his exhibition.
“Hi, what are you doing? Do you want to grab dinner tonight?” Ash asked.
I stood back slightly to see the name of the gallery painted above the awning. I was sure it was the one. I squinted through the glass, past the painting hanging in the window to see if I could spot anything familiar.
“Haven?” Ash said.
“Ash, I’m going to have to call you back.” Without waiting for a response, I hung up. Was that Jake’s picture of the bridge?
It felt like the riptide was calling to me. I couldn’t not go inside. The urge to be near a piece of Jake overwhelmed my need to prevent myself from breaking down.
I pushed the door open. A small bell rang, and I stepped through the entrance, going immediately to the picture of the bridge. It was just as beautiful as I’d remembered it. I stood staring at it for long minutes before my attention was drawn to the picture next to it. I hadn’t seen it before, but the scene seemed familiar. It was o
f a cobbled street, full of people, cafes and street musicians. You could hear the noises from it, feel the atmosphere. I leaned closer to read the description printed on the information card, next to the photograph. It read “Jake Harrison, Falling in Love in Ile de la Cité”. The words struck me like a thunderbolt and my legs weakened.
“I could get you a discount if you’re interested. I know the photographer,” a male voice said from behind me. My breath caught as my legs started to collapse from under me.
“Hey.”
I felt Jake’s hands on me, steadying me.
“Are you okay? Come sit.”
I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t see it was him, confirm what I knew was happening. If I did, I would be sure to crumble into pieces.
“Sorry,” I mumbled as I sat down. “Too much coffee.” I slid my hands over my face to delay the inevitable sight of him.
He knelt in front of me and wrapped his hands around my wrists, gently uncovering my face. I didn’t have the strength to fight him. I dropped my hands, and we locked eyes and my heart actually stopped.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
I shook my head. I wasn’t okay. Seeing him was the worst thing that could have happened. The walls I’d built around my thoughts came crashing down and I allowed myself to properly experience the grief of losing him.
He stood abruptly. He was angry at me, and I couldn’t blame him.
“Dave, I’m going. I’ll speak to you later.” I heard a voice respond and then Jake was back, his hands on my back. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
I stood as Jake guided me out of the gallery. His car was just outside, and he helped me in and fastened my seatbelt for me. I was helpless, unable to do the most basic things.
As we drove, I was aware of Jake alternating his gaze between me and the road.
“Should I call Ash?” he asked. “Or Luke?”
I shook my head. “I’m so sorry.” My throat was tight. Being so close to him made my loss all the more acute. I’d missed his smell, his hands, the way he took care of me.