by Chloe Liese
I felt his eyes on me, scanning my body subtly with interest. I was sitting to his left, so it would be easy enough for him to miss my engagement ring. I set my left hand on the counter and fussed with the cocktail napkin underneath my drink, so he would. His eyes went straight to it, then to his beer as he drank.
“Damn.”
I laughed for the first time in a long while. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. You’re quite observant. You spotted it the moment I made it obvious.”
He shrugged. “Comes with my line of work.”
“And what’s that?”
“Out in the field for Uncle Sam.”
Ah, that made sense. A crew cut, the hint of a muscular body pressing against his suit. He was a military man.
“And what are you doing in London for Uncle Samuel?”
He coughed on his beer and set it down. “You’re cute.”
“That’s not usually what men say, but thank you.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t think so. God, your accent’s killing me. You sure you’re engaged? It’s not just a ploy to keep away the creepers? Because if so, I’d like to assure you, I might not look like it, but I am one of the good guys. I know the whole incognito American soldier line might seem suspect, but I promise I’m above reproach.”
I laughed and shook my head as I had another sip of my cocktail.
His gaze drifted over me. “Ah, well, a guy had to try. Thing is you just look…really familiar. I can’t decide if it’s because you are or because I want you to be. You are like a solid nine out of ten—”
I smacked his arm involuntarily. “Excuse me!”
He laughed. “I just did that to get a rise out of you. When you stand up and have to stroll back there to powder your nose in a little bit—which is when I’ll ogle your backside, engaged or not—you’ll be a solid eleven.”
I snorted. “You’re a shameless flirt, Mister…”
“Reynolds,” he said. “Asher James Reynolds, at your service.”
I gave him my hand, because that gin and tonic was almost gone, it had quite gone to my head, and I actually felt happy for the first time in a long time. He kissed it lightly at the knuckles, then set it on my lap.
“So, where is he?” he asked.
“Who?”
“The guy lucky enough to have put a ring on your finger.”
I bit my lip and fumbled for an explanation. “Well…”
Asher sat back in his seat and swiveled. “Let me guess. He’s a pediatric surgeon, working late, saving small, sick children.”
I smiled into my drink. “No.”
“Human rights lawyer?”
“No.” I laughed. “These are such noble professions.”
He shrugged. “You looked like someone who goes for the chivalrous type. But, noted, wrong direction…Politician.”
“No.”
“Calculating businessman. Powerbroker.”
I tipped my head. “Sort of. He owns a financial consulting company. I work there too.”
“Ah.” Asher drank the last of his beer and set it on the bar top. “An office romance. Everyone’s a sucker for an office romance.”
I shrugged. “We actually just work really hard together. There isn’t much time for romance. Or, well, that is, we used to.” I sighed and rubbed my forehead.
Asher set his elbows on the bar and leaned in. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re alone on the Friday night before Christmas, looking ridiculously beautiful, albeit a little tired, with a rock on your finger and no sign of the guy who’s staked his claim.”
I slid my fingers along the condensation on my glass. “He had to get away for a while. Take care of himself.”
“Something he couldn’t take care of with you around.”
“Correct.”
Asher lifted a finger for another beer without breaking our gaze. “And why’s that? How are two people who plan to be a team ’til death do us part supposed to weather married life’s storms if they can’t do it beforehand, too?”
I bopped his nose, and as I did, realized I felt tipsy already. “You hit the screw on the nut.”
Asher accepted his beer and paused it a fraction beyond his lips. “Oh boy, your grasp on English is slipping. Does alcohol normally go straight to your head? Can you at least see straight?”
I waved my hand. “I’m fine. It’s Lucas who’s going blind.”
Asher choked on his beer, pounding his chest with a fist. I smacked his back, but he waved me off. “I’m okay,” he wheezed. “Phew. Okay. So…Lucas is making a huge life adjustment, and he needs space to do so.”
I drained my gin and tonic. “He doesn’t think he can be the man I deserve, so he’s figuring that out while he’s at it, too. The issues are sort of tangled together.”
Asher’s eyes raked over me as he absorbed my words. “Poor bastard,” he said somberly. “I can’t blame him for having a tough time. I’d fucking off myself if I found out I was going to have to watch this fade away from me.”
“Don’t say that,” I whispered, blinking away tears.
“It’s true. You women don’t get how we work. Men are visual creatures, and like it or not, our eyes are how we connect romantically a lot of the time. Females, you’re in touch with these layers of feelings, nuanced perception and sensation, like featherlight touch, the smell of a man’s body, the meaning of a sigh.
“I’m not saying men don’t have feelings,” he continued. “We do, but they just aren’t as…complicated for us. We feel safe with you, we desire you. You make us happy. We want to protect you and have adventures, and one day, kids. But romance to us is feasting on what you are—your beautiful imperfections. That freckle on your collarbone, the soft feel of your thighs, your tits when they’re braless and pressing against your shirt. The dimples in your cheeks, your curly hair when it’s frizzy after sleep, the sparkle in your eyes when we talk to you. That’s often what does it for us.”
Asher’s gaze held mine as I tried not to cry. “If I were losing my sight, I’d be losing you,” he said.
My second gin and tonic arrived just in time. I picked it up, raising it in the air toward Asher. “Well, cheers to you, Mr. Reynolds, for making me both cry and smile for the first time in weeks, in the same night. I’ve been numb since November, and I’m tired of it.”
Asher lifted his bottle to mine, frowning enigmatically. “You’re…welcome?”
“Oh, it’s a compliment,” I reassured him. “Now, soldier, let’s get…how do you Americans say it? Shitfaced?”
He clinked his bottle with mine and smiled. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”
Nairne talked around a large mouthful of eggs and toast, shaking her head. “You’ve dropped weight,” she said critically.
“Stop yelling,” I groaned.
“I’m not.” She handed a tiny piece of egg to Jamie who was in his little children’s chair between us, and tried not to laugh at me. “The hungover head is just an echo-chamber of torture.”
I picked at my food. I was indeed hungover, and my stomach was sour. “Fair enough. But what is this critique of my weight? It’s not like I was trying to. It’s busy season. I’ve been working so late I just come home and collapse.”
“I thought Farthington was all about work-life balance.”
“Yes, well, when the impending CEO and president goes off the grid, you have some slack to pick up. Lucas worked really hard, Nairne. He pulled in loads of new business, and we had a dozen deliverables that had to go out in the month of December.”
I winced as Jamie banged the table with his palms, then signed more.
“Here you are, lovie.” She handed him another piece of egg. “Still doesn’t justify the fact that you look like a cartoon hourglass. You lose any more weight and your waist won’t exist.”
“Says you of all people. Your tits and arse to body fat ratio is literally off the bell curve of human proportions.”
Nairne smiled. “I do have pretty nice tits. And for how
much I sit, I’d say my arse has held up nicely.” She wiped a smudge of yogurt off Jamie’s face and then glanced back at me. “How are you?”
I took a sip of coffee, then promptly regretted it. Nausea churned my stomach. “I don’t know. I’m okay, I think. Even with Lucas gone, I feel like I’m supposed to be here in London and at Farthington, like I belong. I miss him, of course. It’s hard, but I know it’s the right thing…”
Nairne observed me, and it wasn’t difficult to notice her gears turning. “You sound skeptical.”
Asher’s words last night echoed in my head. “I’m a bit hurt and confused. I know that Lucas needs to focus and learn so much to adapt, but why does it have to be apart from me? How does this bode for us when we’re married? Every time something’s hard for him, he’s going to have to leave me and figure it out alone? Why couldn’t I be there for him and learn alongside him?”
“Because you’re not going through what he is, Elodie. You can’t go alongside someone when you’re not on their path.” There was sharpness in her voice that startled me.
Nairne sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry, I said that forcefully…I empathize with Lucas. As the partner in my relationship who has a disability, it’s hard sometimes. Zed always wants to know what’s going on, to help and be ‘in it’ with me, but sometimes, you just can’t be. You’ll always have the option of opening your eyelids and seeing the world; Zed will always be able to stand up and sprint down the road. Lucas and I…well, we can’t.”
Tears filled my eyes. “What does that mean, then? Don’t you let him in? You seem so happy, so passionate.”
“I do, and we are,” she said emphatically. “But sometimes I need a little space before I give Zed my problems. In an inter-abled relationship, you’ll occasionally need to let the person with a disability have a bit of room to preserve their autonomy and independence, to emotionally and mentally process a challenge or change they’re facing, before they share with you.”
It made sense. Logically, it made sense. And Nairne had been on this road for a while. She knew what she was talking about. Yet, wasn’t it true that with disability, like everything else in life, each person’s experience was different? Was Lucas’ reason for going away the same as Nairne’s periodic need for breathing room in her marriage? I wasn’t sure.
And perhaps I was a little needy. From being all but abandoned by my parents emotionally after Adrien’s death, I needed a bit more reassurance than someone else might, to know I wasn’t being left once again, punished for being part of their pain. Lucas had said that night at the piano, when I fought his defense of staying strictly friends, that loving me would end up making everything worse. That on top of losing his sight, he’d break my heart and end up losing me too.
Was that what had happened? Had I been instrumental in orchestrating his pain? And if I had, did Lucas actually still want me?
“Elodie, Lucas isn’t your parents.”
My head snapped up. “How did you know I was thinking about them?”
Nairne clasped my hand in hers. “Because I know you. And your face…it doesn’t hide anything. You have a look when you think about them.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Oh and what is that? Heartache?”
Nairne smiled sadly. “A little. Which is understandable. But, Elodie, you need to remember why you chose to walk away from them. You chose to see yourself as valuable and lovable, even when their pain prevented them from loving and valuing you as they should have. You got out of a relationship that perpetuated the lie of your unworthiness. Don’t bring that to your love for Lucas and his love for you.”
Jamie reached his arms toward me. Nairne nodded her approval, so I lifted him out of his chair and set him on my lap where he happily patted my chest. I wiped my eyes and Jamie clasped my face in his hands, concern etched in his tiny features.
“I’m okay, Jamie,” I said through tears.
He pulled my head toward him and kissed me on the lips.
I laughed quietly. “Thank you, mon petit.”
Then he smiled and laid his head on my chest, sucking his fingers. I knew that meant he was settling to fall asleep.
I wrapped my arms around him and sighed. “He’s perfect.”
Nairne smiled as she put down her phone. “I know. You’re not too far off perfect yourself.”
“Did you just take a picture?”
She laughed while bent over her phone, typing. “The camera loves you. Deal with it.”
I smoothed my fingers through Jamie’s black hair which was starting to curl at the ends. That stubborn, fuzzy little mohawk would soon be relegated only to memory. Nairne smiled to herself, then set down her phone.
“What did you do with the picture?” I sat back and pushed my plate away.
She frowned. “You barely ate.”
“If I eat another bite, I’ll be sick. Serves me right for drinking as much as I did. Now stop deflecting.”
“I sent it to Zed.” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it, then back up.
“What did he say?”
Nairne read it with a tender smile. “He said, and I quote, You can’t send shit like that to me without warning. I’m in a team meeting having to fake an allergy attack because your goddamn picture made my eyes water.”
Snorting, I squeezed Jamie gently to me. “Poor Zed. Such a softie since he met your mummy.”
“Da,” Jamie said sleepily.
“Yes, Jamie. Da is a big softie,” Nairne said wistfully. “Hopefully, one day you’ll grow up to be just the same.”
The kitchen was quiet for a moment as Nairne watched us, as Jamie and I comforted each other.
“He’ll need his morning nap. I’ll take him if you like,” Nairne said.
I shook my head as I rocked him. “I’m feeling tired myself. I’ll go put him in his crib and then have a lie-down.” Rocking Jamie still, I whispered over his head. “When I hold him, and…he’s not even my child, I can’t imagine feeling anything for him but complete love and protectiveness. It makes me think, how could my parents treat me as they did? I mean, yes, they provided for me, and that counts for something, but love? Closeness? Protection? No.”
Nairne nodded sadly. “You haven’t heard from them?”
“No.” I smiled down at Jamie, who still sucked his fingers as his eyes drifted shut. “But I blocked their numbers, so I haven’t made it easy. If they want to see me badly enough, they know where to find me. Our engagement was in the papers. I’m sure they saw it. They know where I am.”
Nairne sighed and wiped her own eyes. “Christ, just thinking about it, the way they acted toward you, makes me tear up. Bloody emotions. But it’s only a few days until the monthly painters are in, so I’ll give myself a pass.”
I laughed because I loved Nairne’s expressions. But then my laugh died off.
“Nairne,” I whispered. A wave of shock crashed along my skin. “I’m late.”
“What? Late for what?”
“You mentioned the monthly painters, and I realized, I’ve been so busy I didn’t even think twice about it. But I never got it. I never bled.”
I had PCOS. I always bled. And cramped badly.
Nairne’s eyes widened. “How late?” she said.
I rubbed my throat, trying to coax down the vomit crawling up. “Um, I should be getting it. We’re on the same schedule, you and I.”
“You had it four weeks ago, then?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Nairne made a strangled noise. “Elodie, you’re a month late? I thought you were on the pill.”
I dropped my head back against the breakfast nook bench. “I was. I stopped taking it when Loulou left.”
“And did you two…you know…the night before he left?”
My mind flashed to the kitchen. How we’d sought each other in the darkness, how he’d taken me hungrily, poured into me as he sank his teeth into my neck. “Well, yes. And it was…quite thorough.”
Nairne wa
ved her hand. “Erroneous. He came inside you or he didn’t, that’s all that matters.”
“He did.”
She nodded. A scientist in her element, she was working her way down the diagnostic checklist. “And did you take your pill the next morning? You take it with your coffee when you wake up, right?”
I sank. “Lucas always brings it to me with my coffee. But…he left early that morning, and then I spent the day wallowing in bed. I haven’t taken it once since.”
Nairne sighed. “Well then, dearie, I’d say a trip to the midwife is in order.”
“Nairne, I drank so much last night, what if I’ve hurt the baby?”
She shook her head. “It’s too early. It’s just dividing cells. A few more weeks from now and if you got yourself sozzled for a month straight, I might be concerned. But one night this early? It’ll be okay.”
I groaned. “It’s going to be everything but okay! This is horrible timing. What if Lucas is going to break our engagement when he comes back? What do I do?”
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Nairne straightened, transferred to her wheelchair with practiced efficiency, and flew to the front of the house, where an elaborate security system showed who was there. She pressed the button to show the camera screen, then balked.
“Bugger,” she hissed. “Elodie…”
I knew what she was saying without saying it. Who was standing outside that door.
Lucas.
I couldn’t see him, not right now.
I shot up with Jamie in my arms and flew into their lift, smacking the button to send us up to their floor, now that I’d been granted access without it setting off the absurdly thorough security system Zed had for their floor. After I’d set Jamie in his crib to sleep, I went down the steps to the second guest room since apparently Teo still had a claim on my former room.
Groaning, I lay in bed. And it took all of three minutes before the need to violently throw up seized me. I barely made it, retching in the toilet until all my coffee and toast were out of my system, and the thought of ever smelling, let alone ingesting, coffee or toast was unfathomable.
Two quick raps on the door, then Nairne’s voice called my name.