by Carrie Elks
‘Juliet?’ Ryan asked, offering her to go first.
‘I’m still deciding. You go.’
‘I’ll take the Maryland crab cakes, followed by the ten-ounce steak with extra fries.’ He handed the black leather menu back to the server. As always she was entranced by how easy he found everything.
‘I’ll just take the burger. No starter.’ She offered the server a quick smile then handed back her own menu.
Ryan frowned. ‘You’re not having steak?’
She shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Hungry enough for a burger,’ he pointed out. He didn’t look angry as much as worried. ‘You should really try the steak. It’s amazing.’
‘It’s the best,’ the server agreed. ‘Though of course our burgers are good too.’
A year ago she wouldn’t have blinked twice at the cost of the steaks. But then a year ago she was Mrs Thomas Marshall, and money was no object. But right now she had a bit of a cash flow problem, thanks to lawyers’ bills and Poppy’s Christmas presents. ‘The burger is fine.’
‘Can you give us a minute?’ Ryan asked, looking up at the server.
‘Yes, sure, I’ll be back in five.’ The man didn’t look perturbed at all, even though Juliet felt more embarrassed than ever. He walked away and over to another table, topping their wine glasses up with an expensive red.
‘London, are you ordering a burger because you want it, or because you’ve got some messed-up idea that you’re paying for dinner?’
It took a lot of effort to make herself meet his gaze, but when she did, all she saw there was kindness. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because the burger’s the cheapest thing on the menu.’
‘But I’m really not that hungry.’
‘Babe, somebody who’s not hungry doesn’t order a burger.’ She stared into his deep blue eyes, taking in the way the skin crinkled at the corners, from a lifetime of smiles. His skin was still tan in spite of the cold North East weather, his mop of blond hair framing it perfectly. ‘I’m saving money,’ she finally admitted, her voice low from embarrassment. ‘The divorce is taking much longer than I’d thought. I just had to send my lawyer a few thousand dollars.’ She licked her lips. ‘Thomas is being difficult.’
‘Sounds about right.’
‘We’re due to meet at the courthouse for mediation next week. Things should be better after we agree on the separation terms.’
‘If he agrees to anything.’
‘Of course he will.’ She didn’t sound convinced. ‘We both want what’s best for Poppy.’
Ryan opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, rubbing his temples with his fingers as if to calm himself down. ‘So I guess we have two choices. Either you let me buy you a steak, or we leave and grab some takeout together. It’s up to you.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’m happy to have a burger, and you’ve been dying for a steak. We can stay here and eat.’
‘I’m not going to sit here and eat a steak while you eat a burger because that’s all you can afford. This is supposed to be a date, and I’d like to treat you. So what’s it to be, shall we just leave and get a takeout?’
‘But you’ve been jonesing after a steak all day, you said so yourself.’
‘London, I’ve been jonesing for you. I’d eat a sandwich if it meant I could sit with you. Steak or takeout, I don’t care. I just want to make you happy.’
There went her heart again, galloping like an out of control racehorse. She could tell by the way he was staring at her – hot and heavy – that he meant every word. The strength of his desire took her breath away.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say they’d get a takeout, then drag him home to bed. But he’d brought her out to eat steak, hadn’t he? It felt as though she’d be letting him down if they didn’t stay for dinner.
‘I guess I could eat a small steak,’ she said.
‘And a crab cake?’
A smile broke out across her face. ‘And that too.’
After ordering their food, Ryan reached out and took her hand in his, grinning widely. ‘You’ll need the energy for what I’ve got planned later.’
‘And what’s that?’ she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes. ‘Are we running a marathon or something?’
‘No, London, I’m going to take you to bed and make love to you seven ways to Sunday.’ Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips. But then he frowned, his smile dissolving into the air, as he stared over her shoulder.
A ripple of unease slithered down Juliet’s spine, making her sit up straight. She turned around to see the couple from two tables down staring at her and Ryan with narrowed eyes.
‘Oh shit, that’s Susan Stanhope.’ She swallowed, even though her mouth was dry. ‘And her husband Richard. He’s a golfing buddy of Thomas’s.’
‘I know. I’ve met them, remember?’
Of course. Susan’s son was in the same class as Charlie and Poppy. It didn’t make Juliet feel any better, though.
‘Do you think they saw you kiss my hand?’ she asked him, alarm making her freeze. ‘Do you think they’ll tell Thomas?’ She pulled her fingers from his grasp, and put her hands beneath the table, clasping them together tightly.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered honestly.
‘Two Maryland crab cakes,’ the waiter announced, sliding their plates in front of them. ‘Enjoy your appetisers.’
Taking a deep breath, she picked up her silverware, using her fork to prod at the crab cake. It crumbled at her touch. And though it looked – and smelled delicious – she didn’t think she could eat a thing.
Her appetite had completely gone.
They drove home in silence, passing houses lit up with early-December decorations, waving Santas and nodding reindeer nestled among lit-up evergreens. Juliet stared out of the partially misted windshield, trying to calm the torrent of thoughts that kept rushing through her mind.
‘You okay?’ Ryan asked her, finally breaking the quiet. He pulled up at a stoplight, about twenty minutes from home.
‘I don’t know if I’m okay,’ she admitted. The lights turned to green and he pressed his foot to the gas, slowly turning left towards Shaw Haven. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see anybody I knew there.’
‘It was just a mom from school,’ he said, his voice reassuring. ‘So there might be a bit of gossip, we can live with it can’t we?’
‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘That’s because it is.’
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d hardly eaten a thing. ‘It isn’t,’ she said, her voice tight. ‘It isn’t easy at all. They’ve only just stopped talking about me splitting from Thomas, now they have something new to talk about. Susan’s probably texting all the other moms right now.’
‘So what? Let them gossip.’
She sighed. ‘You don’t understand. Thomas is just looking for ammunition to use against me. We have mediation next week, and if he finds out about us … ’ She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn’t even want to think about that. ‘It looks bad. Really bad.’
‘He can only hurt you if you let him,’ Ryan said, his voice low.
‘What?’ Juliet frowned. ‘Are you saying this is my fault?’
‘I’m not saying it’s anybody’s fault.’ It was Ryan’s turn to sigh. ‘I’m just pointing out that you can’t control what he does to you, but you can control your response.’
‘And how do you think I should control my response when he’s making everything so difficult? Do you think I wanted to be a single mom? None of this was my choice, Ryan.’ She bit her lip, trying to stop the tears from forming in her eyes. Not that she felt sad, oh no. She was furious.
‘No, it wasn’t your choice. But what would you rather happen? Do you want to get back with him? Is that why you’re worried about him finding out?’ There was an edge to his voice she hadn’t heard before.
‘Of course I d
on’t want to get back with him.’
‘So why does it matter if you chose this or not?’ Ryan was drumming his hands on the wheel. ‘When you’re where you want to be?’
There was a tic in his jaw that seemed to be in rhythm with her speeding pulse. His eyes were narrow, his brow furrowed. His reaction to her words seemed over the top. As if he was …
Jealous?
Her mouth felt dry, her lips cracked. Was it really possible he was jealous of Thomas? Neither of them had spoken much about their relationship, they’d been too busy keeping things on the down low for that. They weren’t dating, they weren’t exclusive, they weren’t anything.
And yet, the thought of him being jealous sent a jolt of excitement through her, dissolving her anger into thin air.
‘It doesn’t matter, I guess,’ she said, calming down. ‘And I am where I want to be. I just hate the uncertainty of it all. Knowing that Thomas can use Poppy to hurt me.’
‘I wouldn’t let him hurt you. You should know that by now.’
‘I don’t need a knight in shining armour,’ she reminded him.
Ryan nodded, his expression serious. ‘Yeah, well there are different ways to be a knight. Maybe I can be the sort that stands behind you and supports you, telling you that I’ll be here for you.’
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Maybe you could.’
He steered the car to the right, pulling into his driveway, the headlamps flashing against the white stone of his house. When they came to a stop, he slid the stick into park, but instead of turning the engine off, he turned to look at her instead. ‘You are so much stronger than you think, London. And on top of that you’re a good, kind person. I believe in karma, and that your asshole of a husband will get everything that’s coming to him. But sometimes you have to help karma along a little bit.’
‘So what should I do?’
‘Believe in yourself the way that I do.’
There he went with his sweet tongue, letting the words trip out and tangle their way around her heart. What was it about this man? He seemed to know exactly what to say to make her swoon.
And it was working.
21
Is this the generation of love?
Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds?
– Troilus and Cressida
There was something satisfying about the way she fitted into the crook of his arm, her head nestled between his biceps and his shoulder. Her long, red hair was fanned out across his skin, the tendrils tickling his chest when she moved. They’d spent the rest of the evening talking, until neither of them had the energy to talk any more. In bed they’d made sweet love – so different from the sex he’d envisaged them having, yet so much more satisfying, too.
A shaft of moonlight had found its way through a gap in the curtains, lending a pale glow to the grey painted wall opposite the bed. It bounced off the glass covering the photo frames he’d fixed with nails there, and for a moment he stared at the black and white scenes beneath them, remembering where he’d been when he’d taken those shots.
Manila had been the first place he’d visited after leaving home, catching a connecting flight from DC to Seoul, and then on to the bustling city in the Philippines. They called it the Pearl of the Orient, and with good reason. It had been the duality of Manila that had struck him as soon as he’d arrived. Extreme poverty mixed in with ostentatious wealth in a way that he’d never encountered in the US before. And yet there hadn’t been the envy towards him he’d expected, nor the kind of animosity such a divide would spark in the west. Instead he encountered a set of people who loved life, who partied hard, and welcomed him with open arms. He’d spent his days taking photographs, wandering around Intramuros, the ancient walled city, setting up his tripod and waiting until the light was exactly right. And at night he’d meet with friends, go to local restaurants, dance with pretty girls who seemed all too willing to spend time with a handsome young man.
It was there, too, that he sold his first photographs, before landing a commission from National Geographic. He’d become friends with a local reporter who had connections, and for the first time Ryan had realised he could get paid for doing something he loved.
Pulling his gaze away from the photographs, he looked at the woman lying in his arms, taking in her pearlescent skin, and the way her soft pink lips formed an ‘o’ as she slept. She looked peaceful, unworried, so much more relaxed than when they’d walked in that evening. They’d agreed not to talk or think about what had happened at the steak house. After all, there was nothing they could do about it. Instead they’d closed the door and curtains, blocking the world out until it was just the two of them as he’d led her up to his room.
He’d cradled her as he slid inside her, keeping his eyes open in spite of the way her warm wetness overwhelmed him. And she’d stared right back, her eyes wide, her moans soft, her legs circling around his hips as she pulled him closer into her until he couldn’t work out where she ended and he began.
Their lovemaking made him feel raw, almost painful in his vulnerability, and it had left him shaken in a way he’d not felt for a long time.
The closest thing he could compare it to was the moment Charlie had come into the world, all red and screwed up and screaming, heralding his arrival to the world in the loudest way possible.
It felt like a beginning, but also an ending. If he was a romantic, he’d say it felt like love.
The shaft of moonlight had moved, slowly sliding its way, inch by inch, across the wooden floorboards. In less than an hour it would probably hit the bed, waking her up. He gently removed his arm from beneath her, laying her head back down on the pillow while she continued to sleep, then swung his feet to the floor, standing up to grab the shorts he’d discarded earlier that night.
Swiftly tugging the curtain back to cover the final sliver of inky night, he turned around, seeing her lying there in the gloom. Her naked body was curled up on the white sheets. Compared to the huge bed she looked tiny. And yet she had a strength, too. One she wasn’t even aware of. A steel core beneath that soft, supple skin, that would fight to the death to protect her daughter.
It was mesmerising.
Strange to think that when he first met her, he’d made so many wrong assumptions. He’d been taken in by her beauty, by her name, and in his mind he’d pegged her as a society wife.
But she was so much more than that. And as he watched her on the bed, he felt the urge to protect her, the way she protected her daughter. To ride in on his charger, sword aloft, and fight Thomas Marshall for her.
He climbed back into bed, and she stirred for a moment, before turning onto her other side. She didn’t need his protection, she didn’t need his support. She could take care of herself the way his mother never had. And though he was glad about that, a part of him – the same part that had slunk out of town all those years ago – was whispering in his ear, telling him he wasn’t needed. That everything between them was as fragile as the old Egyptian scroll hanging over his bed.
He lay back down next to her, pulling her warm body against his. Maybe she didn’t need his protection, but he could still hold her. At least for tonight.
Even if it didn’t feel like nearly enough.
‘Somebody’s looking happy.’ Ryan blinked the dryness from his eyes, waiting for the scene before him to come into focus. Juliet was standing there, wearing just his white shirt and nothing else, her long, lean legs uncovered from her thighs. She was holding a tray with coffee, orange juice and pastries on it, a big smile plastered across her face.
‘Well, maybe I got some last night,’ she teased. ‘There was this guy who took me out for steak, promised to love me seven ways ’til Sunday, and then held me all night while I was sleeping. So yeah, I’m not doing too bad.’
He tipped his head to the side, trying to detect any bravado underlying her words. But they seemed too simple and honest for that.
‘I think you’ll find I only loved you two ways. We still have five mor
e to go yet.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘But it’s already Sunday.’
‘Correction, it’s already a Sunday. Plenty more where they come from.’ Sitting up, he took the tray from her, sliding it onto the table beside the bed. Then he lunged for her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her onto the mattress, until she was straddled across his hips. She’d only buttoned his shirt up halfway, and from this vantage point he could see her breasts beneath the thin cotton. Her nipples were tight, pointing upwards, rosy and ready for his lips.
‘You look good in my shirt.’
She grinned. ‘Why thank you. I thought about bringing you breakfast naked, but it was too damn cold to try.’
‘Always best to keep covered when pouring out coffee, too,’ Ryan pointed out.
‘Health and safety before sex,’ Juliet agreed, nodding seriously. ‘After all, we’re responsible adults.’
He slid his hand along her bare thigh, letting his fingers trace the soft skin inside. ‘Less of the responsible, babe.’
‘You’re right, you’re not responsible. You’re reprehensible.’
‘I’m what?’
‘Reprehensible. Like a rake.’
He started laughing, his thumb still brushing her silken flesh. ‘Just when I think you’re normal, you go all London on me. What the hell’s a reprehensible rake?’
‘You know, a cad. A bad man. Somebody who’s only after one thing.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘What kind of thing?’
She leaned forward, giving him the perfect view of her chest. ‘The kind of thing that seems to be on your mind right now. The dirty kind.’
He could feel the amusement rising up. Sometimes, when she wasn’t thinking, she came out with the funniest things. All English and proper. It was as sexy as hell. ‘Say dirty again.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, seriously. Talk dirty to me. Let me hear your worst.’
‘You do it first.’
Ryan laughed. ‘You know I can talk dirty. I do it every time we have sex. But I haven’t heard it from you. Come on, let me have it.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Or are you too prim and proper for that?’