Faithful (2 page)

No email ping. Had I pushed things too far?

I clicked on one of the videos; it was obviously him. He had the same dark, soulful eyes, but everything else was different. When I had last seen him, he was a tall, dark-haired, lanky, cute boy. The man who was addressing his audience on the video was not that boy. His voice was deep and powerful. He seemed to choose each word carefully. He was tall, at least six feet, and my god he was beautiful. Maybe beautiful wasn’t quite the word, but those familiar dark eyes were hypnotizing, and he had such a presence—the sort that comes with confidence and success. His hair was still the same almost-black color, but it was longer than how he wore it as a teenager, and his skin seemed darker. His suit was expensive. He went without a tie and there was a glimmer of hair poking out at his neck. My crush was back after 15 years. I had to get some clothes on. I felt inappropriate watching the video naked, like he could see me through the screen.

I let the video run as I got out of the bath and wrapped myself in a towel. He was talking to an audience of entrepreneurs about how he started his business. He spoke passionately about his journey, the mistakes he made along the way, and his eventual success.

So what did he do that meant he was giving talks about his successes? Impatiently, I stopped the video, clicked on one of the news items, and wandered over to the bed. So his title was CEO of Gematria Enterprises. I’d never heard of it. Gematria Enterprises seemed to be a holding company for a number of other businesses that had different names. Hotels, restaurants, medical supplies, technology companies, commercial real estate investments; that was an eclectic mix.

I clicked on one of the other videos. There he was again
. My heart rate quickened as he walked onto the stage, this time with his hair shorter and an unmistakable circle of gold on his left ring finger. I slumped back onto the bed. Well, of course he was married. He was young, gorgeous, and successful. And anyway, it wasn’t like I was hoping to date him. I was happily engaged.

Back to the first video. No ring in that video. Maybe he was recently married
... or recently divorced?

I’d not had another email, which was probably a good thing. I was with Charlie and shouldn’t be flirting with devastatingly handsome and potentially married men.
Move on, Leah
, I scolded myself.

At that moment, I heard Charlie’s keys in the door. It was nearly midnight. All at once, I wished I were asleep. I slipped a nightdress on and got under the covers.

“Hi babe,” I called. He replied but didn’t come into the bedroom. I turned off the light.

My email pinged. My iPad was right next to my bed. I should
have been thinking about sleep or Charlie but I couldn’t resist quickly checking it.

Get some sleep. D

I
had
embarrassed myself. I felt stupid. I quickly closed the email and tried to put Daniel out of my head. Eventually I drifted off. I didn’t hear Charlie come to bed.

***

The next morning I resolved not to respond to Daniel, to stop cyberstalking him, and to make more effort with Charlie.

When I got up
, Charlie was in the kitchen leaning against the breakfast bar reading the paper and drinking his juice. I came up behind him, put my arms around him, and rested my head on his back. He patted my hands. “Remember, we have dinner with my parents tonight. They are going to freak out when we tell them we are engaged.”

What did he mean they were going to freak out?

“Yes, I hadn’t forgotten. Freak out?”

“Well, you know they always saw me with an heiress. They thought you were just for fun.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes, I’ve told you that before. They think it’s weird that I’m with a working girl.”

“I’m not a
prostitute
, Charlie. I have the same job as you!” I removed my arms from his waist and headed back into the bedroom for a shower.

“I’ll pick you up at
seven. Can you try to wear something feminine?”

I took a deep breath. He must just be nervous about telling his parents. I had no room to judge. I’d not told my parents yet. The only people I had told were Anna and Fran.
And I didn’t have a ring yet, so it didn’t feel real.

The day passed in a blur. I was so busy I didn’t have time to think about anything, including Daniel. Anna emailed me at lunchtime.

Are you around tonight? A

Tonight is dinner with Charlie’s parents. We are telling them about the engagement. Charlie told me this morning that they might freak out when we tell them
, because they wanted him to marry an heiress and thought I was just for fun! Was he joking? And he told me to wear something feminine. Do I dress like a man? L

I probably shouldn’t have said that to Anna. She wasn’t Charlie’s biggest fan and didn’t need more reasons not to like him.

Anna replied.

He said
what
? He must have been joking. Otherwise, he’s a total dick. You are kind, funny, gorgeous, and have a bod that screams
bow chicka wow wow
. Can we get married instead? Don’t listen to a word he says. Can we get together this week, just the two of us? I want to hear about the proposal—you didn’t seem to want to talk about it yesterday. And now I want to hear how dinner goes! A

We agreed to meet on Thursday night. Charlie had a partne
rs’ meeting followed by a partners’ dinner, so I knew he would be late.

I had taken a change of clothes to work so I could wear something ‘feminine’ to dinner. Charlie had never asked me to dress in a particular way before. Whenever he commented on what I wore, it was normally to say how sexy I looked.

Charlie called last minute to say he would meet me at the restaurant. We were going to Murano in Mayfair. It was a favorite of his parents. Now I was nervous. I had always thought his parents liked me, but perhaps they simply tolerated me as a fling. I hoped Charlie was there before I was.

***

In the cab home, Charlie and I didn’t say much to each other. Dinner had been awkward. Charlie had leaned into me at one point and whispered, “Your dress is very appropriate. Thank you.” He was being nice, or at least trying to be, but the comment really irritated me. I was irritated with him because he had asked me to dress a certain way, irritated with myself because I had complied, and now I was irritated because I’d let him pat me on the head like a dog.

Charlie’s parents’ reaction to our engagement was muted. But their reaction to most things was muted. They were very old
-school and kept their emotions in check and their upper lip stiff. They congratulated us and asked about dates and the ring. Of course, neither had been sorted out. We’d not discussed dates and Charlie said that we were going ring shopping this weekend.

As I stared out of the cab on the way home, I looked up at the magnificent buildings that towered over us. It was cold, dark, and raining
, but that just added to the romance of London for me. Especially around Mayfair, with the little streets weaving between beautiful squares, lined with wrought iron railings. We were heading back east. I briefly wondered if maybe Daniel lived around here. He had said W1. I could imagine him in one of these grand houses, staring out into the rain while sipping a glass of Rioja.

“Are you
OK?” Charlie put his hand on my leg.

“Yes
, of course. Just thinking about work. How do think your parents took our news?” I asked.

“I thought it went very well
, considering. Well done, sweetheart.”

Considering what?
I pondered. I wasn’t sure I cared.

Tonight’s dinner meant that Charlie and I actually got into bed at the same time. I was lying on my side facing away from him
; he came up behind me and reached around to my breast, then stroked my nipple until it hardened. It had been a couple of weeks since we had had sex. Even on the night of our engagement, Charlie had passed out drunk by the time I came out of the bathroom. I missed it, the physical contact. I found myself thinking about sex more and more in the office, and increasingly Daniel was the face of my fantasy.

I let out a small groan of pleasure and reached behind me for his thigh, pull
ed his body closer to mine. I wanted to feel his desire for me. Charlie pecked me on the shoulder. “I have an early start tomorrow. We should get some sleep.”

Really?

Wednesday came and went. Charlie arrived home just after I did. I made us some dinner, we swapped work stories over our stir-fry, and then he went into the office to work. I went to bed early. Something clearly wasn’t right between us, but I didn’t know if it was him, me, or both of us. We should have talked about it, but I didn’t have the energy or inclination. Thinking about Daniel seemed to take up my energy over the last couple of days. He hadn’t emailed me again. He probably realized we’d been a bit too flirtatious and was feeling guilty. He was married, but that didn’t stop me thinking about him.

As I hit my desk late at 9:30 a.m. on Thursday, I got an email from Anna.

Can you try to get out of the office at a decent hour tonight? Can you do 6 p.m.? A

As usual, Anna was already thinking about the end of the day before it started.

I finally got to sit down with Patricia from marketing and David. Patricia was enthusiastic about my involvement. She said that clients were increasingly asking associates to be involved with tender processes, as they would be the ones who would be putting in the most hours. This is where she said I could be of most assistance.

When Patricia described the pitch process, it sounded quite straightforward. We would submit a proposal for a piece of legal work according to the criteria specified. I wouldn’t really assist with putting the proposal together
, but I would study it and then go along to any client presentations where we would talk about the work, our credentials, and then the potential client would get to question us. It sounded fun and so different from what I was used to. I was proud of what we did as a firm and was keen to talk about it to anyone who would listen. It would also be a great step to creating my own client base, which I would need if I decided I wanted to go for partner. It was so nice of David to come through for me like this.

Anna and I agreed to meet at 6 p.m. but not at our usual place—we wanted a proper catch
-up and didn’t want to run into anyone we knew. Was I going to tell her about the awkwardness between Charlie and me? Should I tell her that I was having a crazy fantasy about some school crush from decades ago? We told each other everything and I imagined tonight would be no exception.

“So, out with it Leah
,” Anna said. “You don’t seem at all excited about the engagement. What’s going on?”

I had barely sat down. So we were definitely going to get into it
; there was no avoiding her question. She was on a mission. Anna was nothing if not direct.

“I don’t know
, Anna. Things between Charlie and me are weird. Sometimes I’m just not sure Charlie likes me that much.”

“Well
, of course he likes you. He’s asked you to marry him, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, after six years he has finally asked me. But I’m not sure he really likes me anymore
, and I’m not sure if he ever did. And I’m not sure I like
him
much anymore. He can be so insensitive. And I thought the sex would liven up at least for a bit after the engagement, but we’ve not slept together in weeks.” It all kind of spilled out, and putting it into words made it sound awful. “But maybe we are just going through a rough patch. No couple is perfect. And maybe I’m afraid of commitment on some level and this engagement thing is getting me worked up.” All that stuff about him marrying an heiress who didn’t work hadn’t helped either. I wasn’t sure I was what he really wanted.

Anna interrupted my thoughts. “Well
, if you’ve not set a date yet, you can see how things go in the next few months. You’ll probably get back to normal. But you know what they say—the time before you get married is the best it’s ever going to get. Don’t marry him just because that’s what everyone, including you, has been expecting. You owe it to yourself to think about what you really want.”

Anna was right. I needed to make a conscious decision. “So
... when you are getting married to someone, are you supposed to be having fantasies about the one that got away?” I asked.

We both collapsed into giggles.

“I feel we need a round of tequilas before we get into this.”

Anna came back with the tequilas and slices of orange.

“So who is the one that got away? Have I heard about this one? Not Matthew?”

“God, no not Matt
,” I said. “It’s nothing, really. The other day I just LinkedIn with a guy who I had a crush on when I was 15. We had a bit of a chat over email. I just can’t stop thinking about him. It doesn’t help that I Googled him and he’s totally hot. He’s just a fantasy, though. It will pass soon enough, I’m sure.”

After much cajoling, I brought up his photo on Google so Anna could pass judgment on his hot factor.

“Wow, he
is
hot. Talk, dark, handsome, successful. He’s definitely fantasy worthy. So, is he gay, married, or both?”

I threw my head back and laughed and then
blushed as I remembered what Daniel had said about my laugh. “I think he’s married. I’ve been doing some Fran-like cyberstalking and he seems to be wearing a wedding ring in some pictures. Anyway, like you say, it’s just a fantasy. It will have worn off by the end of the week.” I wanted to get off the subject. I felt silly for feeling as caught up with him as I did. He was married, I was engaged, and we had just exchanged a few emails. “So, speaking of Fran, how is she? I emailed her earlier in the week but I’ve not heard back from her.”

Anna and Fran worked at the same law firm around the corner from my
mine, so they saw each other every day. I knew Fran through Anna, and although I would consider her a good friend because I spent a lot of time with her, I rarely saw her unless Anna was with us.

“Well, I’ve not really seen much of her this week
, and really other than Monday I’ve not seen her for a few weeks. I think that she’s been totally into that DJ that she shagged over the weekend. Maybe he’s still hanging around, wanting something more than a one-night stand. Who knows with Fran.”

“Maybe she’s just moved on to her next
stalkee and she’s wrapped up in that?” I asked.

“Probably. She just seemed a bit odd. She called in sick on Tuesday
, which is so unlike her, and she seems really subdued.”

Fran was a really pretty girl: tall, very thin with curly blond hair. She had had a tough upbringing
. Her alcoholic father died when she was a teenager, and her mother hadn’t coped well with being on her own and seemed to let Fran and her brother run riot. Being a lawyer was an escape for her. She had loads of friends as she was so easy to get along with and was always up for a party. Relationships were her Achilles’ heel: She always had one in her sights, but she was never with a man for very long.

“Why don’t the three of us do a shopping and lunch day this weekend to cheer ourselves up? We can indulge in a man
-free zone!” I suggested.

“Oh my god, I’m totally up for that. Saturday? Let me text Fran to check
if she’s free.”

“Oh
, Anna, you won’t mention my doubts about Charlie and me to Fran will you? I would hate anything to get back to him. And please don’t mention Daniel. I’d die of embarrassment.”

“Of course not. But is that what you’re having? Doubts
, I mean?”

“I guess.” I’d not
labeled any of my feelings up to that point. But doubts seemed to cover what I was feeling.

My phone buzzed—an email. From Daniel. I wasn’t expecting that! I’d not heard from him since Monday. I thought I’d made such an idiot of myself that I’d never hear from him again.

I’m at JFK and drinking Rioja before my flight. Care to join me for a glass remotely? D

I drew in a sharp breath
.

“What is it?” Anna asked.

“Oh nothing. I forgot I had a training session at the gym tomorrow morning, and I just got a reminder. In fact, I should get going. It’s getting late.”

I couldn’t wait to get home and reply to Daniel. I wanted to be able to concentrate on my reply and didn’t want Anna asking questions. After dashing out of the bar, I kissed Anna goodbye on the street and waved down a cab. When I’d given the driver my address, I fished out my phone from my pocket and typed a reply.

I’ve had one or two glasses already. I’m not sure I should. I’m happy to keep you company while you wait for your flight though. How was your day? L

Daniel came back straight away.

My day has been grueling. I need to be distracted. Are you in the bath again? D

The
flirtatious tone of his emails had escalated quickly. My nipples tightened against the lace of my bra; my heart quickened. He wanted to be distracted by me in the bath. I wish he were here with me now; I would be happy to distract him in the flesh. What was I going to say? Was I imagining his flirtation? I couldn’t think straight. I was suddenly aware I was not alone and the cab driver was looking at me strangely in his mirror. We pulled up to the flat and told him to keep the change as I handed him a twenty. As soon as I got through the front door, I replied.

No bath for me this evening, I had a shower this morning. I’m just getting ready for bed. Do baths distract you? L

I wandered into the bedroom and started to change. I should be asleep already. I smoothed my favorite Chanel lotion over my legs. My body seemed to be on full alert and just my hands gently sliding over my skin while about Daniel caused a throbbing between my legs. God, I missed having someone touch me, make love to me.

The thought of you in the bath distracts me. The thought of you in bed distracts me. D

No, I wasn’t imagining it. He was being very clear. I slipped into bed and replied.

Well
, you are quite the distraction to me this evening, Mr. Armitage. L

Again, he replied straight away.

It’s nice to know I have the power to distract you, too. D

I wish I knew what he was thinking. He was probably married. So was this some harmless flirtation to ease a seven-year itch?

I think you have enough power already, if the results of my Google search are anything to go by. L

You’ve been Googling me? D

Yikes, I’d just given away my cyberstalking.

Well, I don’t normally have remote drinks with complete strangers. I had to know who I was sharing my Rioja with. L

That seemed reasonable enough, didn’t it?

They’ve just called my flight. Let’s discuss this over dinner. D

Holy crap. What had I gotten myself into? I couldn’t have dinner with this
married
man. But I didn’t want the flirting to stop.

Have a good flight
.
L

And my email fell silent. Was he angry at me for Googling him? Surely he couldn’t be. Had he guessed that I knew he was married? Would he email me again? Eventually I fell asleep.

The first thing I did was check my email when I woke. Nothing. Would he have landed yet? Should I check the Heathrow arrivals website and work out if he had landed? I was starting to lose my mind.

Calm down, Leah,
I told myself in my head as Charlie stirred beside me.
You are 30 years old, and you need to get a grip.

I headed into the shower and resolved not to obsess. Charlie and I barely exchanged two words. I told him I was going shopping with the girls the following day. He said he’d already arranged golf for the day. I thought we were going ring shopping
, but he didn’t mention it and neither did I.

My morning seemed to drag. I was on a conference call for most of it. Sitting at my desk, I kept peering at my personal phone to check my emails and then remembering I should be concentrating. There were about 16 people on this call. It was completely unmanageable. Luckily, I had a trainee on the same call taking notes. I emailed her.

Deb, can you make sure you keep a separate list of the action points that we are responsible for? Thanks, Leah.

Hopefully, between us we wouldn’t miss anything—my brain was not in gear today. I was always so composed and on top of things at work
, no matter what was going on in my personal life. Apparently today was the exception.

Just as the call wrapped up, Brendan, the PA I shared with David, threw a courier delivery on my desk. Brendan was lucky he was funny because he was a terrible PA.
Because he kept us all entertained with his colorful stories of London’s gay nightlife, and his sarcastic comments about the more challenging partners at the firm, we were willing to overlook his lack of skills—like the fact he threw my mail at me. Humor was the most effective stress relief.

Deb wandered over to my desk so we could formulate a plan after the call as I opened the package. Inside was a rich cream envelop
e in thick paper. This wasn’t a work delivery. A wedding invitation? I ignored the envelope and took Deb through the action points and broke them down into smaller tasks, but my focus was diverted by the delivery and I quickly gave up. I told her just to write up the list and then let me see it. I wanted to know who was getting married. As Deb scurried away, I opened the envelope. Inside was a card in the same rich cream.