Calling Me Back (9 page)

My heart was thundering in my chest. All the pieces were in place—I just needed to pull the trigger. I wasn’t sure if I’d be met with tears or anger. She’d been so unpredictable recently. Part of me thought that I was giving her the conclusion she was expecting, and that she would simply want me to leave. Then the other part of me feared for my man parts. I didn’t want to be Bobbitted.

I’d packed a suitcase of things I’d need over the next few days, and I was just putting it behind the door in the spare room when I heard Emma’s keys in the lock. This was it. I had to say it quickly, get it out and then see where we went from there.

I moved into the kitchen and pulled out two glasses from the cupboard. I’d bought a bottle of her favorite wine. Was that insensitive? Would she think I was going to propose? Shit, maybe I hadn’t thought this through. I didn’t know what the right thing was. I didn’t want her to be upset. I didn’t want her to hate me. I wanted her to see that although I loved her, I just didn’t want to marry her.

“Hey,” she said softly as she came into the kitchen, taking off her coat. Her eyes went to the wine and the corners of her mouth twitched. Shit, she thought it was good news. Her eyes flicked to mine and she stilled. I passed her a glass of wine.

“How was work?” I asked.

“Fine. Someone threw up on me. You?”

My stomach was churning and I was conscious of my bones, as if my nervousness had penetrated right to my skeleton. “Okay,” I said. She took her glass and collapsed on my sofa. I sat opposite her on the coffee table. I had to do this now, or I would lose my nerve. “I’ve thought about what you said.” Her eyes were a mixture of fear and excitement, her knuckles white with her grip on the glass. “I’ve thought of little else since you brought it up, and it’s not going to work out for us.” The churning in my stomach was near overwhelming as I searched her face for a reaction. She was very still. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Do you need more time?” she asked in a quiet voice. It wasn’t what I’d expected her to say. “I mean, I shouldn’t have given you that deadline. If you’re not ready, I can give you more time.” Her words came more quickly and tears were forming in her eyes.

I leaned forward and took her hand. “You were right to push me. I’d not thought about it, and I should have done. I should have understood how you felt about our future together and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” I’d been selfish. I’d wanted to freeze time and live in that exact moment for the rest of my life, because if that were possible then I didn’t have to lose anything or anyone.

After my parents died, for months, I’d kept imagining the last time I’d seen them, the last time I’d hugged them, the last time I’d told them I loved them. I wanted to remember those moments as perfect. I did it so often that the pictures in my head had become distorted, and I couldn’t separate out what really happened from what I had invented. In my own life, I’d clung to everything around me, afraid to lose anything, not questioning whether or not I really wanted those things.

It was time to grow up and move on.

“And you don’t want to marry me?” she asked, her voice wobbling on the word “me”. Shit, how did I make this better?

I took her hand and squeezed it. “I love you. You are amazing. You’re bright and kind and all the things any guy would be lucky to have in a wife.” Her tears spilled over and down her cheeks.

“But not enough for you?”

“I just don’t want to get married. Not yet, maybe not ever. I don’t see myself with kids. You do and that’s fine. I want that for you but—”

“I’ll wait. I can give you a year and see if you feel differently.” She sounded so sad, and I hated that I caused it.

I shook my head. It would be easy at this point to agree to an extra year. It would keep everything just the same. But I couldn’t do that to her. I wanted her to have the future she imagined for herself, and I would never be able to give her that.

“I won’t do that to you,” I said as I squeezed her hand. “I can’t.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll wait. I shouldn’t have pushed—I knew you weren’t ready. Please Luke, don’t leave me.”

A month ago, I never would have thought that we’d have this conversation. I thought we were happy. We had a relationship I enjoyed because we gave each other so much freedom. And I loved her. I really did. But now she was offering me this extra time, which I knew I couldn’t take because it wasn’t fair on her. But ultimately, I didn’t want it. I
wanted
to move on. The churning in my stomach was no longer about the impact this conversation was having on me but what it was doing to Emma. I was ready for a different future.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think anything will change for me. I’m sorry,” I said.

She took a sharp intake of breath and narrowed her eyes. “Is there someone else?”

“Of course not.” How could she think that? “I’ve never cheated on you or anyone.”

“Not with Ash?”

My stomach twisted. Did she think there was something between us? My feelings about Ash and Richard had confused me, but I hadn’t reached a conclusion about why. “Not anyone.”

She nodded. “So you’re going to move out.”

“I’m going to stay with Haven.”

“Right,” she said, her throat tight. “I’ll speak to my dad about getting the money together to buy you out.”

“You know where I am. I’ll let you know if I find a place.”

She started to cry again. I just wanted to take her in my arms and make everything better. I moved toward her and she pulled farther away.

“I’m sorry,” I said, again. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, I’ll call Kelly. You should go now. I really loved you, Luke.”

I closed my eyes. “I know and I love you. I really want you to be happy.”

I stood, headed to the guest bedroom and collected my case.

Thank God the following day was Friday. My brain was close to a meltdown with all the adjustments and contemplations it had been doing recently. I didn’t often go drinking with colleagues, but tonight was an exception. I needed to block things out. Alcohol was the perfect treatment. I could dive into those relaxed soporific sensations and let myself drown for a bit. I could use it to block out the guilt and unease, the anxiety over what was next.

Emma’s reaction to our breakup had been heartbreaking. Somehow I felt guilty that she wasn’t angrier with me. She had every reason to be. Unwittingly, I’d led her to believe that we could be something more. I should have been more sensitive to her.

“Shots!” Mark, one of the other lawyers, shouted as he placed a tray of vodka in front of the group of us gathered in Chancery Bar. I couldn’t remember if this would be my fourth or fifth shot, but things were becoming pleasantly hazy.

“Oh, just to warn you, Wendy found out you’re single,” Mark whispered.

I shuddered. Wendy, our office manager, flirted with most of the lawyers who were single and a number of them had “experienced” her. I wasn’t about to be another one of those guys. She wasn’t my type.

“You not interested?” Mark asked. “She’s sexy.”

I shook my head. “Never a good idea to shit on your own doorstep.”

That seemed to make sense to Mark, and he didn’t push it. I scanned the faces in the bar. What was my type? Emma and I had been introduced to each other at a party. She was pretty and funny and smart. I wasn’t sure I had a physical type.

We’d been drinking for hours when our group started to thin out. I checked my watch. It wasn’t even nine. Jesus, it felt like two in the morning. I didn’t often drink shots on an empty stomach. Perhaps it was time for me to go. But the only thing waiting for me at home was a couple that made me want to vomit, they were so in love. I pulled out my phone. What was Ashleigh doing? I could go round. We could talk. I hadn’t told her I was ending things with Emma. What would she think? I wanted to know more about how she was feeling about Richard. I wanted to know more about him, whether or not he was good enough for her. More than that, I wanted to understand why thinking about them together made me jealous.

Seeing her suddenly became urgent.

Ashleigh

“The building better be on fire,” I shouted in response to the banging on my front door. Who the hell was making such noise at this time of night? It was just gone nine and I was in my PJ’s, my makeup off, watching television. It had been a perfect evening of doing nothing, and now someone was spoiling it.

I checked the peephole and flung the door open. “What are you doing here?” I asked Luke. “Are you drunk?” He squinted as if he was finding it difficult to focus.

“Yup. I really need some water.”

I rolled my eyes and stomped off to the kitchen. The door closed behind him as he trailed after me. “It’s late, Luke. Why are you here?”

“Shit.” He stood up really straight. “Sorry. Is Richard here?”

I ran the cold tap and filled a glass full of water. Haven obviously hadn’t told him about our breakup. I shook my head. He smiled and headed over to my sofa where he collapsed. “Do you have snacks?” he asked. “Maybe something with cheese?”

“You realize there are plenty of fast food restaurants that you can go to when you’re drunk that will feed you carbs and water. There’s no need for you to come to me.” How was I going to keep my distance from him if he kept following me?

Luke groaned. “Stop complaining, Ash. You love looking after people. That’s why you do what you do.”

“You should go home,” I said. “Shall I call you a cab?”

“Urgh, no. I can’t face listening to my sister have sex. Let me stay a bit longer. Hopefully they’ll wear themselves out and then I can go home.”

He wasn’t making sense. “Why are you going to listen to Haven having sex at your house?”

“Could I stay with you?” he asked, and his face lit up and then fell. “No. I don’t want to listen to you and Richard going at it either. Maybe I can move in with Kate Upton. I wouldn’t mind listening to her having sex.”

He was equal parts amusing and annoying when he drank like this. I threw a cushion at him. “You’re hammered. Just go back to your place and you can have sex with your own girlfriend.”

“I need to find my own place. Will you come flat hunting with me?”

I didn’t even pretend to know what he was talking about. “I’ll make you a sandwich, and then you’re leaving.”

I set about making him a cheese sandwich, which I knew was his favorite. I didn’t often see Luke drunk since he’d left college. It wasn’t like him. And why was he going on about Haven and Jake? He seemed really out of it.

“If you feel like you’re going to throw up, then make sure you hit the bathroom,” I called into the living room.

He appeared at the door to the kitchen. “That water was good.” He refilled his glass. “You’re making me a sandwich?” He sounded a little more normal.

“Apparently I’m a sucker,” I said as I cut the bread in half, put it on a plate and handed it to him.

“I shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.”

“You think?” I chuckled at him.

“Did I interrupt your evening?”

“Yes.” But as ever, I was delighted to see him.

“Was it a popcorn and pajamas evening?” he asked, grinning at me in a way that felt more flirtatious than he meant it to. It was just tortuous.

I laughed. “It doesn’t mean that you didn’t disrupt things.”