“You can’t avoid me completely for the next two days. I’ll get you to change your mind.”
“No, you won’t,” I said, and ran to the ladies’ room, ignoring the young couple who gave me a huffy look as I pushed past them and covered my mouth with one hand. I barely made it to the bathroom in time, where I knelt in front of the loo, retching over and over. And after I thought there was nothing left to bring up, it happened again.
An hour later Olivia bounced down the hallway looking like an exotic flower in her flowing, multicolored dress that showed off the multiple pixie and fairy tattoos on her arms.
“You look happy,” I said with a smile, feeling much better after two glasses of water.
“Oh, yes.” She grinned slyly. “A bloke asked me for my number.”
I laughed. “You’ve only been here an hour. What did you say?”
She winked. “Gave him my room number.”
“You did what?”
Olivia shrugged. “He’s single. I’m single. Where’s the harm?”
“What’s his name?” I laughed, thinking perhaps I should introduce her to Paul. Although the world might implode if their sex drives collided. “Please tell me you at least got his name?”
“Francis,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Wilkinson.”
“Hold on a sec,” I said. “I met him. Big guy, huge hands and—”
“That’s him.” Her face fell. “Oh, no. Did he try to pick you up, too? The—”
“No, no, no.” I quickly waved my hands around. “He works with someone I, uh, used to know.”
“Oh, yeah?” Olivia smirked. “Who?”
“No one. Someone from school, years ago. But anyway, Francis seemed nice.”
Olivia nodded. “Handsome, too. And you know what they say about men with big hands.”
“Big...gloves?” I offered.
“Ha! Yeah.” She winked again. “That, too.”
After the rest of the Hoskins Insurance team arrived, ten of us settled down for dinner in the restaurant. As our appetizers, daintily arranged towers of mozzarella, sweet tomatoes and crisp basil were brought out, Liam walked into the room, and my appetite disappeared faster than Olivia’s second rum and Coke. He’d changed from his business suit into a pair of jeans, a tailored white shirt and brown loafers. His hair was longer than I remembered and it softened his strong features. If Olivia hadn’t had her back turned she definitely would have wolf-whistled.
“What do you think, Abby?” Ben said.
“I’m sorry, what?” I tore my gaze away from Liam. “I was miles away.”
“Martin’s proposal to reduce admin overhead?” Ben said with a frown.
“Oh, I, er, think it’s good.” Ben looked at me, and I felt my ears starting to burn. “It makes sense,” I continued, thankful Martin had been bragging about his ideas to anyone who’d listen for the past month. “And sending the forms to people before their appointment would help, too. Especially if they have email.”
“Excellent idea,” Ben said. “See? The team building’s working already.” He smiled. “So how’s the food? And what do we think of...” Ben started talking about another of his plans.
“What’s up?” Olivia whispered. “It’s not like you to lose focus.”
“I was thinking about Nate,” I said, wanting to stab myself in the thigh with my fork for using him as an excuse.
“You’re so sweet.” Olivia grabbed my arm. “Look, that’s him,” she said, nodding toward the door. “Francis.” I watched as the big man scanned the room, locked eyes with Olivia and gave her a wide smile. “Oh, I’ve gone all funny inside,” she said. “He’s lovely.”
“I know how you feel.” I looked at Liam who was talking to the waitress. A delicious, tingly shiver slowly traveled down my spine and all the way back up again.
“Aww.” Olivia reached over and patted my hand. “You’ll see Nate on Friday.”
“Yeah.” I smiled as I continued to stare. “I’ll see Nate on Friday.”
I managed to eat half of my beef Wellington and roasted vegetables. But although the dessert, a beautiful arrangement of delicate pastries, looked as if it would melt in my mouth, I refused the plate regardless.
“You’re so good,” Olivia said as she dug into her profiteroles. “You’ve got so much willpower.”
I looked over at Liam. “It’s habit. If you tell yourself often enough you don’t want something, you convince yourself it’s the truth.”
Coffee and Calvados followed, and we all decided while the rooms might only be a step up from prison cells, the chef certainly knew his way around the kitchen. By the looks of things, all of my colleagues knew their way around a few bottles of wine, too.
“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Martin said, hovering the merlot over my glass. “Go on, have some.”
“No thanks.”
“Wait a second.” Martin grinned, his eyes slightly glossy. “Are you pregnant? Oww.” He leaned over and rubbed the bottom of his leg. “What the hell, Liv?”
“Don’t be rude, Martin,” she said, then winked at me, and I felt glad I’d confided in her about Tom’s death, although in my version we’d been hit by a drunk driver. I’d become a master, it seemed, at avoiding judgment, as if I were continually crossing a river over a set of badly placed, mossy stepping stones.
“But seriously,” Olivia said to me once Martin was arguing with Ben about which team would win the World Cup this year. “Are you yet?”
“What?”
“Pregnant?”
I deliberately let my gaze drop to my lap. “Not this month.”
“It’ll happen for you, I’m sure it will,” Olivia said as she squeezed my hand, then turned to tell Ben he was out of his mind, France would never, ever, not if all the cows came home wearing ice skates because hell had frozen over, win the World Cup.
I switched off and let my thoughts drift. How could I be pregnant? I was still taking the pill despite having told Nate I’d stopped over eighteen months ago, hiding them at the back of the medicine cabinet, behind my bottles of makeup remover and deodorant.
Truth was I still didn’t feel ready to have a baby. I didn’t trust myself to look after a houseplant, let alone another living, breathing human being. But lately Nate had talked about getting some tests done—him not me, he’d said, he didn’t want to put me through that—so I knew I’d soon have to make a decision. And Nate had been ready for a child almost as soon as he’d proposed.
“Why wait?” he’d said as we lay in bed one Sunday morning.
“You’re funny.” I draped one of my legs over his. “I’m only just back at college, loving Hoskins and I’m twenty-three.”
“So?” He rolled onto his side and propped himself up with one arm. “The younger you are, the easier it’ll be to get your figure back.” He covered his head with the blankets.
I laughed, pulling them back down. “Such a romantic, aren’t you?”
“A hopeless one.” He paused and smiled at me. “And you’re sure you’re happy with the wedding plans?”
I nodded. “Yes. Just the registry office.”
“And only close family and friends?”
“Only your close family and friends.”
“You’re still not going to invite your mum?”
“Nope.”
“And nobody from Preston? No best friend from school or people you worked with? Stu from the Kettle Club? Or—”
“No.”
“Abby...”
I shook my head. “No. That part of my life’s over, Nate. Done and dusted. You’re my family now.”
Nate pulled me close. “Well, once you’re Mrs. Morris we can start making Little Morrises. I’m the only one left to carry on the family name you know.”
“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” He gave me a blank look.
“Paul. Your brother?”
“Paul? God no, he’ll never have kids, mark my words. That’s my job. When you’re ready we’ll build the family you should have had.”
I’d kissed him, thinking at any moment someone would be along to ordain him a saint.
“I’m going to bed,” Olivia said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Are you staying here?”
Liam’s table was almost empty. He and Francis were the only ones left, deep in conversation over what looked like glasses of cognac. What harm would sitting and watching him do? I hadn’t seen him in almost six years. Another six minutes wouldn’t make any difference.
“For a while,” I said to Olivia. “Maybe I’ll have another glass of water.”
“Uhh,” she said, patting her stomach. “I’m so full I could burst. And I’m so tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She yawned, but I could tell she was faking it. Olivia was the mother of all night owls, regularly sending emails at two in the morning. At this hour she was barely getting started. “Night,” she said to Ben and Martin, the only ones from our table who hadn’t yet left.
I smiled at her. “Sleep well.”
Olivia walked out of the dining room, and I watched as she turned her head toward Francis. He was openly gazing at her, taking in her every move. I saw her nod at him, and he winked, nodded back. He said something to Liam and two minutes later got up and left.
Liam’s eyes met mine again, adding kindling to an already raging fire in my belly. His wolf eyes were full of loneliness and longing; I worried he could see exactly the same in mine. I dropped my gaze and turned to Ben and Martin.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” I asked. “Or is it still classified?” As I half listened to Ben talking animatedly about the upcoming training, I sneaked a glance across the room only to find that Liam had gone.
* * *
“Grab a chair,” our event organizer, a short, stout, bald man called Justin, said the next morning. “Come on, all of you, arrange them in a circle.”
“What’s this?” Martin said as he sat down, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. “Are we going to sing ‘Kumbaya’?” He hummed a few bars of the tune.
Ben elbowed him in the ribs. “Very funny.”
“I thought we’d start by getting to know each other better,” Justin said.
Martin looked around. “We need beer for that. Don’t we guys?”
Justin laughed. “Later, promise. For now, I’d like you to share something the others wouldn’t be able to guess. Something you feel comfortable saying, of course. We don’t need to know about your secret Batman collection in the attic.” He looked around the circle, but nobody spoke and he grinned. “Okay, looks like I’ll go first. I’d love to give ballroom dancing a go, but my wife flatly refuses. She thinks I have the coordination of a drunken bear and weigh about twice as much.”
Snorts of laughter erupted as we imagined Justin attempting the fox-trot, then Amanda from accounts had a turn followed by Sue. As Andy started talking, Olivia whispered in my ear, “The sex last night was the best I’ve ever had.”
I just about managed to change my laugh into a cough and put my head down to stifle another giggle.
“I’ve been to see Depeche Mode six times,” Martin said, his eyes lighting up. “And the fifth time they let me go backstage, and I met the band.” He beamed. “I touched Dave Gahan’s hand and didn’t wash it for three days.”
“Ugh,” Olivia said. “Gross.”
“Yeah,” Martin said. “It was a bit.”
As the rest of the group took turns, my mind seemed to run off in all directions, trying to come up with what I’d say.
My dad left when I was ten, and I haven’t seen him since. No, way too personal.
My husband thinks we’re trying for a baby, but I’m taking the pill. No, absolutely not.
Sometimes I want to run away and never come back. Stop, just stop.
I think I’m still in love with my ex-boyfriend. What the—
“Abby?” Justin said, and I felt everybody’s eyes on me. “Want to share anything?”
“Uh.” I pushed myself up. “I don’t think the Wellington agreed with me.”
As I rushed into the corridor, I heard Ben say, “Not quite what we had in mind but cheers.”
I ran down the hallway, thinking I’d hide in the loos for ten minutes so Justin would move onto another exercise. But as I turned a corner I slammed straight into the person coming the other way.
“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry.” I looked up. “I—”
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Liam smiled at me, and my knees went soft.
“I...I...”
“Are you okay?” Liam steadied me with one hand. “You look a bit...flustered.”
“I’m fine. Fine. Taking a break.”
He hooked his thumbs into his jeans. “So how’s it going? Having fun?”
“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “We were supposed to share something about ourselves.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell. They boilerplate these things, don’t they?” I frowned and he added, “We did the exact same exercise yesterday. So what did you say?”
“I didn’t. I made a beeline for the loo.”
“Sounds sensible.” He laughed, and the sound felt like a blanket wrapping itself around my body, something I could find comfort and warmth in, a place to stay forever. Liam smiled again. “But you know you could’ve made something up.”
I laughed, lowered my shoulders. “Yes, I should have. What did you tell them?”
“I wanted to say that I met the love of my life on New Year’s Eve.”
I caught a glimpse of the gold band on his finger. “You met your wife on New Year’s Eve?” A surge of raging envy hit the pit of my stomach.
“No, Abby.” He sighed. “I met her at an airport.”
I took a step back. “I’d better go.” I turned around.
“Wait.” He took hold of my arm, pulled me toward him, making every part of my body tingle. We were so close I could feel the beating of his heart. “Have dinner with me. Just dinner.”
I pushed him away. “I can’t. I’m here with my colleagues.”
“Meet me after. There’s so much to say. Please. Then you never have to see me again.”
I paused. It was true, there were things we needed to say. Things I’d been carrying around with me for six years. A bag of guilt, a suitcase of remorse. Maybe talking to Liam would give me the opportunity to set them down and leave them behind. Then again...
“Okay. But not before ten thirty.”
I felt his eyes follow me as I walked away, and I willed myself not to look back because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d keep going.
* * *
Liam and I sat at the empty bar later that night, him with a glass of Bordeaux, me with my usual water and lemon. Thanks to Francis and Olivia, the respective groups from HBT Bank and Hoskins Insurance had merged after dinner, sharing jokes and work stories, banking tricks and insurance tips, and I’d been able to spend part of the evening sitting closer to Liam. We’d stuck to our “old friend from school story,” which nobody cared enough about to question. And, one by one, Ben, Martin and all the others admitted defeat after another booze-laden night. Francis and Olivia hadn’t even waited for dessert.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you at all tonight,” Liam said, then drank some wine.
“To be honest I almost changed my mind.”
“What stopped you?”
I looked at him. “You’re right. We need to talk, but I don’t know where to start.”
“With you,” he said. “Where are you living now?”
“South London area,” I said, waving a hand.
“That’s pretty vague. Want to narrow it down?”
I shook my head.
“Okay, maybe later. I spy a ring on your finger. You’re married?”
“Four years,” I said, absentmindedly spinning the gold band and matching solitaire around my finger. “Nate.”
“Nancy,” Liam said. “My wife’s name is Nancy. Kids?”
“Not yet. Maybe someday. When the time’s right. You?”
“A boy,” he said, and I immediately wished he hadn’t. “Zachary. Four months.” Liam pulled a picture from his wallet and handed it to me. The toothless baby had a wide smile, tufty brown hair and was busy cuddling what looked like a slightly damp blue rabbit.
“He’s beautiful. He has your eyes.”
“Do you love him?” Liam stared at me.
I laughed, sliding the photograph back across the bar. “Steady on. He’s cute but—”
“You know who I’m talking about.”
My smile faded. “Yes. I love Nate very much.”
Liam’s jaw tightened, and we sat in silence for a while. I kept my hands on my glass to make sure they weren’t moving closer to his.
“Why did you run?” he said abruptly. “Why did you push me away?”
I fiddled with my ring again. “Those are complicated questions and—”
“They’re important questions,” Liam said loudly, then added, more quietly this time, “And I feel I have a right to know.”
I leaned back as far as the leather bar stool would allow. “I didn’t think I deserved to be happy. I didn’t think I deserved to be with you.”
“And now?” I didn’t answer, and Liam looked away. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“So people keep saying. Maybe I’ll believe it in time but—”
“I loved you, Abby. I still—”
“Don’t.” I leaned forward and put a finger to his lips. “Please. You’re married. So am I.”
He gently pushed my fingers away. “To the wrong people.”
“You can’t say that.”
“I just did. And I’ll say it again. To the wrong people.”
“You don’t even know Nate. He’s good to me. I owe him—” I sighed “—everything.”
We sat in silence for a while until Liam spoke again. “Did you know I went to see your mum once, after you left?”
The Neighbors Page 23