by Dale, Lindy
“I love you, too, Joel. You mean the world to me.”
Joel’s smile is wide and he drops a peck on my nose. “Great. Now can you get out of my shower before the water goes cold? I’m gonna be late for work.”
*****
After I’m dressed, I go to the kitchen. It’s not a place I’d hang for more than five minutes under normal circumstances but Joel’s been so gorgeous to me, so loving; I want to do something nice for him. I rattle around and find the ingredients to make him eggs for breakfast. After noodles, eggs are one thing I can cook to perfection. I find juice in the fridge and some yummy chutney, the bottle of which looks as if it’s worth more than my rent for a week. I’ve got the coffee on, too, because — lucky for me — the machine is a replica of the one at the flat. The old flat. Where I used to live.
Joel comes into the kitchen dressed for work. He’s wearing khaki work pants, boots and a well-worn denim shirt with Mother of Pearl pressed stud buttons. It’s faded at the elbows and slightly frayed along the cuffs. His hair is mussed where he’s pulled the shirt on over his head rather than using the buttons. It makes him look rugged. God, I want to unbutton him. I want to slide that fabric off his shoulders and let him bend me over the breakfast bar.
“Sadie.”
“Huh?” I say, a piece of un-buttered toast frozen in my grasp.
“You’re perving.”
“I am not!” My cheeks feel like every vessel of blood in my body has surfaced on it. I try to sound indignant but we both know I’m doing exactly what he says I am.
“Yes you are.”
“Well, it’s your fault. How am I meant to concentrate on breakfast if you come in looking like that? You make me want to eat you, not the eggs.”
“Be my guest.”
“Behave.”
“Make me.”
Oh, he’s a dirty one, my Joel.
He sits at the breakfast bar and I serve the eggs and toast onto his plate. I pour him coffee and hand him a glass of juice. Then I sit next to him like are an old married couple. But we’re not.
“I could get used to this,” he says, as the eggs and toast disappear from the plate.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. My only culinary conquests are eggs and two-minute noodles. Most people don’t like those for breakfast so I break out the Pop Tarts on occasion. Just for variety.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nup.”
“I’d have never picked you for domestically inept.”
“Thanks. I must hide it better than I thought.”
“I have to say I’m disappointed.”
“Thought you were getting the domestic goddess for your housemate, not just the love goddess, did you?” I joke and shoulder him in the bicep.
“I’m not upset because you can’t cook.”
I tilt my head.
“I had this fantasy of you wearing nothing but one of those frilly-edged aprons and me doing you over the bench while you cooked me a three course meal.”
Oh for Pete’s sake.
“You are officially beyond help.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I pick up our plates and take them to the sink where I scrape the teeny bits of leftovers into the bin and stack them into the dishwasher. I’m hunting around under the sink looking for dishwashing tablets when I feel a hand on my bum. Seriously, the man has no morals. At. All.
“I’m heading off now. Do you want a lift?”
I pull my head out of the cupboard. “I thought we were doing the separate ride thing?”
“You’ll be late if you catch the bus. I can drop you a couple of blocks away from the building, so you can look as if you walked. I’m heading straight to Iris but I’ll be in after lunch for the team meeting.”
I glance at the chrome clock hanging on the kitchen wall. My trying to be domestic has put me behind. “Okay. I’ll get my things. Won’t be a sec.”
I run to the bedroom and grab my shoes and bag. I stop for a second to check my reflection in the mirror. The faint frown of worry that seemed to live on my forehead for the last few months has gone. My eyes are bright, sparkling, in fact. I look happy, happier than I’ve looked for the longest time, possibly since before Mum died. If this new life can have such an effect on me after a day I wonder how I’ll look in a week or even a month? One thing’s for sure; this is where I’m meant to be. I know it and the boys know it too.
CHAPTER THREE
The first few days at Nicholas and Joel’s — I mean, my new place — go smoothly. Things are easy, like it’s been this way forever. So much so, I’ve literally pinched myself on more than one occasion thinking I might be having the most bizarre of dreams. The guys and I settle quickly into a routine of eating breakfast together and then leaving the house separately. Nicholas organised a key for me on the first day so I can come and go as I please, which will make it easier when they’re both working late. Not that they have yet. Both boys have been as eager to get home as me. We have this need to spend every minute we can together and because nobody can ever know of our relationship, the only place we can do this is at home.
It took some cajoling on my part to get them to let me pay my way. I know they own the house but rightfully I’m a lodger. Who knows if that will change but for now I want to feel at least one bit of independence, so they’ve agreed to let me contribute to the buying of groceries and paying my share of household bills. It’s only fair. I’m not here to sponge because they have money and I have little. I’m staying because I can’t be without them. I won’t be without them.
The last few days at work have been uneventful. Apart from the odd smile or wink as the boys and I pass each other on the stairs or sit opposite each other in a meeting, nothing has changed. I’m working hard and Jill is pleased with me. She’s going to give me a good reference at the end of this, I know. I only wish she’d offer me a job. I love being in the Hardwick & Lawson environment. It’s so stimulating. And that’s not because I see my boys all the time either.
Okay, well maybe it is. But only a little. I really do love this job. Massively.
So the main dilemma at this stage seems to be one I’ve created for myself. Since I moved in with Nicholas and Joel I’ve been finding it more and more difficult to keep my head in the game, to be professional when I should be. My thoughts wander constantly to things we did the night before, to a certain look, a touch or a thought we’ve shared. I find I’m daydreaming all the time and usually at the most inappropriate moments, like when I’m watering in a plant, for instance. Try explaining the flooding of planter pots and resulting river of water running down a gutter because you forgot to turn off the hose. I couldn’t exactly say it was because I was imagining I was holding another type of hose, now could I? I’m embarrassed too by the way my eyes get fixated on them. I watch their every teeny move, committing it to memory. All it takes is for Nicholas to stretch or Joel to lock his fingers behind his head, revealing that strong expanse of chest and I’m a zombie.
On the last day of my internship, I spend the morning in the office with Jill and Nicholas. Together, we go over my grade for the prac and they give me feedback on my time with the firm, along with a few ideas to polish my written assignment. I’m pleased with what they tell me. Even the suggestions they make are positive. The constancy of having the boys near me twenty-four seven hasn’t affected my professional performance. I’ve been trying so hard not to let it.
“I’d like to say we can offer you a position when you graduate, Sadie. You’d be an asset to the team. You have so many amazing skills,” Nicholas says as he, Jill and I sit around the desk in his office.
I ponder my skills and decide it’s not my making of coffee or the thoroughness of research he’s referring to. He’s talking in code.
“But we don’t have anywhere to put you right now,” he continues. “Not without letting another staff member go. My suggestion would be to start making the rounds and I’ll contact you if and when a spot comes up.”
His eyes stare pointedly at me, boring holes beneath my clothes. He looks as if he wants to rip them off. Dirty boy. I stare back at him, wondering how he manages to keep up this business like façade while his shoeless foot is fondling my calf under the desk.
“You do understand?” Jill says. “It’s not you or your work. I’d love to have you on board but we just don’t have any positions.”
Well, not the sort of positions she’s talking about.
“Sure. I wasn’t expecting anything.” Which is the absolute truth.
“Hopefully, one day in the near future we’ll be able to take you on.”
I press my lips together, trying not to giggle at the thought of Nicholas ‘taking me on.’ He already does that regularly — on the bed, on the sofa, on the floor. Last night on the bonnet of his car when the three of us went to look at the stars from the top of the hill near our house.
“I understand completely,” I reply, trying to ignore his foot as it wiggles toward my crotch. I’m going to kill him when we get home.
“Great.” Nicholas gives me a look and I know this is his way of telling me he’s playing this safe for all our sakes. Because, in this situation, we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. The fall out if Nicholas gave me a job and someone discovered we were sleeping together would be enormous, let alone if Joel’s name were mentioned. None of our lives would be worth living.
After lunch, I head to Iris with Jill for the final time. It’s almost the close of business and she wants to catch up with Joel about a drainage problem she’s spotted at Highfield. I’m more than happy to tag along. Every minute I get to spend in the presence of my boys is a bonus for me, even if we can’t acknowledge each other as more than colleagues.
My boys.
I like that I can call them that.
I like that when I get home tonight, I’ll be greeted with kisses and love.
We arrive at the building site and find a spot to park. I hop out of the car and stop to adjust my overalls. I don’t want to look too eager. It’s bad enough that my heart beats so in my chest when I see them that I do stupid stuff, let alone giving Jill more fuel that I’m harbouring some sort of unrequited crush. She’s been teasing me non-stop for the past three days. If only she knew.
Joel is in the site office. He’s looking adorable as usual with his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a hint of his chest and his shirtsleeves rolled up his forearms. Even though I’ve seen him already today my heart does a little dance at the sight of him bent over a set of plans, his hard hat plonked on the desk beside him.
He looks up, smiling. I know that smile is for me but Jill has no clue. She thinks Joel is falling for that model he’s been “seeing” as part of the decoy. She thinks he’s more into her than any girl ever because he looks happy all the time and goes about the place whistling which apparently he’s never done before. Joel and I know better. It’s me he loves. The whistling is for me. Only me.
“Ladies.”
I stand in the doorway behind Jill who’s entered the room. “I might go for a look around if that’s okay,” I say. “It might be the last chance I get.”
“Sure,” Jill replies. “I’ll be twenty minutes or so, if you want a lift to the bar.”
Jill, Nicholas and Joel are shouting drinks in my honour tonight. I’ve passed my internship with flying colours and I know I’m looking down the barrel to being Dux of my class, the honour I’ve aspired to since I began my degree.
“Nick’s somewhere up on the first floor if you want the tour of the latest,” Joel comments.
“Cool. I’ll go look for him. I want to thank him.”
“Again?” Jill laughs.
I roll my eyes.
“What’s going on?” Joel asks.
“Sadie has a crush on Nicholas.”
“I do not!”
Somehow, I manage to make that sound realistic.
“I’d get over that quick smart if I were you,” Joel says. “I’m pretty sure the big fella has got a new woman. Supremely hot, from what I’ve been told.”
I stare at him and try not to smirk.
“Take a hard hat,” he adds. “We don’t want you knocking your brains out on your last day. And thanks for your hard work over the last month, Sadie. I know Jill has appreciated having you around.”
“I’ve enjoyed myself. I’ve learnt so much.”
Jill and Joel settle down to chat and I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the corner and a hat from the rack before setting off in search of Nicholas.
It only takes a minute before I reach the first floor and hear Nicholas’ voice coming from a room along the end of the corridor. The echo makes it easy for me to find him so I head in that direction, stopping at the door when I discover he’s in a heated discussion with someone on the other end of his mobile. I pause and sip my drink, not wanting to disturb him. He’s got his back to me and is gesturing in frustration as if the person on the receiving end is in the room with us.
“No, Dad. I don’t want to meet John Wilson’s daughter. I have no desire to date some debutante, no matter how rich and beautiful she might be.”
There’s silence as he listens to the voice on the phone.
“Because I’m sort of in a relationship.”
More silence.
“It’s nobody you’d know. She’s not part of the circle.”
What circle? Do I have to be in some sort of club to be accepted? Is this a side of Nicholas I never knew about? Do his social connections mean more to him than I thought? I had some inkling what his family were like when we first met but I never thought I had to conform to an expectation to be part of his life. I can’t do that. I am not a society girl. Suddenly, the doubts I had over our relationship resurface with a vengeance. This is not good. Not good at all. I knew this would happen. I told him someone was going to get hurt and then I let him talk me into something we both knew would never be right.
“I met her at the bay,” Nicholas continues. We’ve reconnected recently.”
More talking.
“No, Dad she’s not a waitress. She has a degree in landscape architecture.”
Well, almost.
“Only a month… Yes, It’s serious. I’m serious. More serious than I’ve ever been about a woman.”
My heart does a little dance at that.
“You can’t meet her… Because I don’t want you to… This is not some ploy to throw you off. She does exist… Not yet. Maybe one day. Look, I’m hanging up now. This conversation is over…. No. Goodbye, Dad. I’ll talk to you later in the week.” Nicholas hangs up the phone and shoves it into his pocket with an exasperated sigh. Shaking his head, he turns toward the door, a look of shock on his face at the sight of me.
“Uh, hi,” I say.
“Hi.” He gives a strained smile so I walk to him, my arms outstretched. He wraps me up tightly. His hands stray up and down my back and into the sides of my overalls. His thumbs lock into the fabric of my t-shirt. My hard hat hits him on the chin and he releases a chuckle. “I like the outfit. Very tradesman.”
“You like a bit of lower class scruff then, Mr Lawson?”
He takes the hard hat from my head and leans it on the window ledge. Returning, he squeezes me to him again. “Only if she happens to be you. And you’re not lower class.”
“No, I’d have to be a waitress for that, right?”
“I gather you heard.”
“Yeah. Does your dad always pressure you like that?”
“Only when he thinks I should settle down. Which is roughly every time he goes to his club and his mates try to palm their daughters off. He has this deluded idea that I’m bachelor of the year or something.”
“I thought match making was more of a mother thing?”
“In my family it’s more of a status thing. I might be thirty but Dad still thinks he has the right to pick my girlfriends. I used to go out with them to shut him up and a few of them were nice but well… you know the history.”
I snuggle into Nicholas’ chest thinking about what’s just happened.
“Am I the right girl for you, Nicholas? I’m not wealthy. I have no connections. Surely there’d be someone else who’s better suited to the life you lead than me,” I say. I don’t want to be his second best. I’d give him up if I thought his father would pressure him over me. I couldn’t bear for him to hurt.
Nicholas kisses each of my eyelids in turn and then my nose. He holds me tighter, his chin resting on my head. He sighs. “There probably is, but I don’t want another girl. You’re the right one. You’re perfect.”
“Even if I’m not a sophisticated debutante who knows which wine goes with fish?”
“Especially then. Most of those girls are self-absorbed money grabbers, the ones my father likes even more so. I want you for you. I like the fact that you suck at cooking and think Pop Tarts are a food group.”
“Who told you that?”
“Joel messaged me. He thought it was insanely cute.”
“You sound like you’re discussing a new puppy.”
“Well, you are a bit like a new toy—”
I glower at him.
“—A very hot new toy.”
I pull back. “Nothing like being objectified.”
“Er, pot calling kettle, my love. Just remember who was caught ogling men’s bums yesterday. Talk about objectification.”
I grin and return to his embrace. “Your father is never going to like me, is he?”
“He never has to meet you.”
My mouth twists in frustration. I’m not sure that I like that idea. I guess I hoped that one day I’d be a part of every aspect of Nicholas’ life and Joel’s too. Family is important and I don’t want to come between Nicholas and his father. Blindly, I assumed that this crazy relationship would somehow end up as something people would accept but now I see that can never happen. We can never play happy families while there are three in the bed.
“Nicholas?”
“Hmm?”
“We’re never going to be normal are we? Like a real couple.”