by Jessica Ames
These are questions that reverberate around my brain and they’re questions I can’t answer. Yet. Hopefully, in time, things will become more apparent, but who the heck knows.
I learn a lot about her over these messages and during our phone calls. From her accent and some of the things she says I can tell she has money and a lot of it. I also learn she is fairly heavily invested in her work and her company, which is owned by her stepfather. She watches a lot of trash television, loves a glass of gin and really likes documentaries.
I tell her about my love of rugby and the fact I’ve recently started watching ice hockey, which surprised her. Ice hockey isn’t exactly a major sport here, but it is good to watch. I’m definitely starting to develop more than a passing interest in it.
She talks to me about the little details of her day-to-day, which currently seems to comprise of an event she’s running for her company—some annual gala thing which is clearly a huge deal to her. I know all about the suppliers, the problems she’s having with certain ones, the menus and the colour scheme.
It should bore me to death, but it doesn’t. Anything that she talks about is interesting to me. I love listening to her and I love hearing about her life. When she’s stressed, I like to be able to comfort her and I wish I could do it in person.
I have no clue how I got so embroiled in the life of a person I’ve never met but she is completely and inexorably under my skin. And it scares me and thrills me in equal measures that she is.
She sends me photographs of her around London and I send her pictures back of me on the boat, on the island, on the sofa. I don’t have the grand architectural landscapes she does but Kildirk definitely provides some beautiful sceneries. That she gushes over the beaches and the little coves around the island gives me hope that if we make it as a couple she may want to come here to live. I know it’s crazy to think that far ahead when we haven’t even locked eyes on each other, but I can’t help but think about the future. I’m a planner; always have been. And it’s not like this isn’t something that doesn’t have the potential to become an issue; it does. Sadie seems pretty settled in London; she has a life, friends, family, investment in a company there. And I’m invested here. I don’t know that I could do city living. This problem is one that will eventually bring us to loggerheads, I can see it. And truthfully, I’m not sure what it will mean for our future.
For now, I’m trying not to worry or think about it. Me and Sadie may not even get past the first date so there probably is little to no point thinking long term. Although… I don’t know… deep down I have this feeling that things between us won’t be temporary. And I know that sounds crazy, given our current circumstances but I can’t shake it. Even with Mara I didn’t have this sense of forever about our relationship.
Me and Sadie develop a routine of texting before she gets ready for work and before I get the boat out on the water. Sometimes I’m able to text her throughout the day, but more often than not it’s radio silence until the evening because of my work, and I hate that because I want to talk to her all day but I can’t. I explained the reasons why to her, afraid she would think I was ignoring her but she seemed to understand that there are times when it’s not safe for me to be on my phone. When we’re quiet though I send her spectacular photographs of my view from the boat.
We also converse late into the evening. And tonight is no exception. I got home, took a shower, ate something and am in bed just drifting off when my phone beeps. Sleepily, I lean over and grab it.
SADIE: What are you doing right now?
ME: I’m lying in bed thinking of you.
SADIE: What a coincidence. I’m doing the same.
My heart flutters at this statement and I like how it makes me feel—warm all over, like when a summer’s day heats your skin. I’m desperate to meet her, but I’m also scared of breaking the bubble we’re in. I don’t know if I’ve idealised her in my own head, if I’ve made her into something she isn’t, but talking to her is like a balm to my soul. She seems too good to be true at the moment and I don’t want that to change when we finally meet. At the moment, I’m enjoying being in this Honeymoon stage, where everything feels magical and anything is possible.
But that can’t continue either, and part of me thinks it’s better to know sooner rather than later if we have chemistry in person.
I decide to take a stand, to see if we can push to the next step. All this pussyfooting around is not helping us. We need to move on from this stage and get into the next. We need to move from online dating to a long-distance relationship—although where we go after that is anyone’s guess. The long distance can’t continue forever.
And that is a problem for another day.
ME: I have the next few days off from the boat. I’d like to come see you—no pressure. If you’re not ready that’s fine.
I don’t know why, but I feel a hint of nerves asking this question. It’s silly to be anxious; the natural next step of online dating is to meet up in person but this hasn’t ended well in the past for me. I’m not sure I’m ready to say goodbye to Sadie yet if she decides against meeting up. I practically hold my breath as I wait for her response to come back.
SADIE: I’d like that too. Do you want to meet halfway?
I let out a rush of air and my lips quirk into a smile. She wants to meet. Great. And she’s willing to travel, which also seems like a positive. I have no clue where halfway puts us but there’s no way I’m making her traipse across country.
ME: I’ll come to you.
SADIE: No, it’s fine we can meet halfway. I don’t want you travelling all that way either.
This warms me. That she’s thinking about me and about how travelling will affect me makes me feel good. It’s been a long time since anyone outside family and friends gave a shit about me in that way.
ME: I don’t mind, but if you are more comfortable with that, no problem.
I don’t care where we meet in truth, but I’m fine with whatever she’s comfortable with. The last thing I want is to push her into something she doesn’t want to do or feels weird about. I want her to feel safe and secure with me. If that means meeting on neutral ground, that’s fine by me. I’ll travel wherever she wants.
SADIE: We can meet somewhere in Bristol.
I’ve been to Bristol a few times, but never for socialising. I have no idea where anything is but she suggests a bar not too far from the train station and from its website it looks like a nice, quaint typical pub.
I have a quick look to see what public transport I need to use to get there and as soon as I’m sure I can get to her, I text back.
ME: Perfect. Can you do the weekend?
SADIE: Yes, either day is fine.
ME: Saturday? I can’t wait.
We figure out the details of what time we can feasibly both get there using public transport, then I book my train tickets ready to pick up from the station. Once I’ve done that, it’s getting fairly late and I have to be up in the morning so I send her a goodnight text.
ME: I’m heading to bed. I need my beauty sleep.
SADIE: Me too!
ME: You’re already beautiful x
I’m not sure how this will go down, but there is only a small hesitation before a response comes back.
SADIE: Smooth talker. I’ll see you on Saturday x
ME: I’m looking forward to it x
22
Sadie
The weekend comes around too fast. My belly is filled with icy butterflies as I go through my morning ablutions, getting ready to catch the train in a couple of hours’ time. Even though I’ve been speaking to Callum all week, I have no idea what to expect from him when I come face-to-face with him in person.
Will he be nice?
Is his photograph really him?
Am I being catfished?
Did science really match us correctly?
Can an online test do that?
I have no idea but talking to him has been good so I hope that will con
tinue in person. It just feels kind of rushed, which is insane because if we’d met in a bar or at work or anywhere else we would have been seeing each other in person immediately. I don’t know, I guess the fact it’s all done through the internet makes me warier of my safety. You hear horror stories about con artists and psychos trawling the internet for unsuspecting victims. Hopefully, he’s not either of those things.
I’m nervous but I figure the sooner I meet him, the better. At least then I’ll know either way if the chemistry between us is real or just the excitement of talking to somebody new.
I could get hurt again…
And I could.
Richard hurt me in ways I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from, although this thing with Callum has made my recovery easier, not to mention quicker. I like having someone in my life again.
I dress in a cream knitted dress that hits my mid-thigh, a pair of dark tights and a cute pair of calf length boots. I leave my blonde hair loose, in tousled waves that hit my shoulders and my make-up is natural but enhances my features. I look date-ready. Although I now have a nearly two-hour train journey that could destroy this.
I pull on my coat, grab my bag and head to the nearest Tube station. I need to get to Paddington Station to get the overground line to Bristol, so I navigate the underground until I reach my destination.
When I’m safely on the train, sitting in a window seat in the middle carriage, I text Callum.
ME: I’m on the train. I’ll be with you in a couple of hours.
It takes a couple of minutes for him to respond.
CALLUM: I just got off the ferry and am about to get into the hire car. I’ll be there before you hopefully. I can’t wait. I have to drive now so I’ll text when I hit Bristol. See you later, Sadie.
I grin as I put my phone back in my bag and my gaze goes out of the train window.
The journey seems to take forever. Too long really and I’m edgy by the time it finally pulls into the station at Bristol. I’ve never been here, so I feel a little uncertain as I push out of my seat and follow the crowds of people moving towards the train doors.
As I step off the train, I’m hit with the cooler air after the heat of the carriages, and I pull my coat further around my body to ward off the chill in the air.
I leave the platform and head in the direction of the exit. I find a taxi outside and give the driver the name of the pub we’re meeting in. Unsurprisingly, he knows it and pulls the cab out of the station with confidence.
“You just visiting then, love? Or you here for business?” the cabbie asks over his shoulder as he navigates the Bristol traffic.
“Just visiting a friend,” I tell him.
“Ah, it’s a great place, Bristol. Tons to see, tons to do. You’ll have a great time.”
I know it’s no more than a five minute drive to where we’re meeting but I don’t want to risk getting lost—and I don’t want to turn up looking like a mess either. First impressions are important and I want him to get the best first impression of me that he can.
The driver pulls the car up at the curb and I peer through the window at the building. It’s an old-fashioned pub, complete with swinging sign attached to the wall and heavy leadlight windows. I pay the cabbie and climb out, shutting the door behind me.
Then I take a deep breath, collect myself and head towards the pub’s entrance. My legs tremble as I push inside the building and into the darker space.
What will he be like in person?
Will he like me?
Is he going to be weird?
Have I just wasted hours travelling and all that expense for nothing?
I try to push the negative thoughts threatening to overwhelm me out of my mind, although it’s not easy. My experience with Richard certainly shook the foundations of my self-belief and made me question a lot of things about myself. Had I driven him to do what he did? Maybe I’d been too bossy, too inattentive, too difficult in the run up to the wedding. Maybe I’d done things wrong.
I try not to dwell on those thoughts either.
I wasn’t the issue in our relationship; Richard was. He should have ended things long before I was wearing a wedding dress if he didn’t want to go there. It was cowardice, nothing more, that stopped him from doing what he should have done and ending our relationship seven months earlier.
I glance around the main room of the pub, taking in the bar and the few occupied tables and I catch sight of a blond man pushing to his feet out of the corner of my eye. I turn my attention that way and take in the familiar face. It’s Callum, and he looks as good—if not better—in the flesh.
As I cross the floor towards him, I can’t help but smile as he flashes me his own beaming grin. His profile photograph doesn’t do him justice, not by a long shot. He’s a lot more built than he appeared. His shirt, which is rolled up to his elbows, is tight across his chest and his biceps, and it’s clear he’s hiding some serious muscles under there. Fishing must be, as I thought, incredibly physical. He has short ash blond hair that sits messily on his head and a layer of scruff covers his jaw that is definitely not there by design but rather just because it is. His jaw is square and like his photograph there is a sadness behind his eyes that is at odds with the smile he’s throwing my way.
My entire body stands up and takes notice and I have to resist the urge to touch him as I approach. In fact, I suddenly feel hot all over and a little tingly. And from his expression he’s having the same thoughts and he’s not trying to hide it either, which makes me feel good.
“Callum, I presume.” He is seriously good looking and I’m not going to lie I’m a little smitten.
He nods as his eyes rove my face. “You’re far more beautiful in the flesh.”
I laugh, my head ducking a little. “You know how to get a girl on side.”
“I’m not trying to get you on side; I’m just telling the truth. You are beautiful.”
A flush of pleasure rolls through me at his words. It’s not the first time he’s said this to me but it feels different hearing it in person.
And it’s not wholly unpleasant.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the compliment and taking the offered seat. He reclaims his own chair, his eyes locked on my face. He looks like he wants to touch me, his hands fidgeting a little at his sides, but he refrains.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“I can get it,” I object as he starts to stand again.
“I know you can, but I’d like to.”
I note the pint in front of him and feel safe to order booze without being judged for the fact it’s only mid-afternoon.
“Okay, then I would love a drink, thank you.”
“Any specific gin?”
Inwardly, I feel warm that he remembers a conversation we had about my favourite tipple being gin. Point one in the pro column. Actually, it may be point three because he definitely scores points for being on time and being cute.
“Whatever they have is fine. I don’t discriminate when it comes to gin.”
His lips pull into a hint of a grin and holy hell do I like that. It does amazing things to his face, amazing things I really like.
I settle into my seat as he walks towards the bar, watching his backside in his jeans. They fit him perfectly, too perfectly really, hugging his arse in a way that is far too alluring.
Attraction is definitely not going to be an issue. I am well and truly attracted to the man. And I don’t think it is a problem on his side either. He seems just as happy to see me in the flesh.
He returns a couple of moments later, and slips back into his seat.
“They’ll bring it over in a moment.”
“Thanks for that. I didn’t expect you to buy me a drink.”
His lips lift at the corner. “You can get the next round, if it makes you feel better.”
I grin. “Deal. How was your journey?”
“Long. The ferry crossing was choppy and the wind was not in our favour coming over. How was yours?”
His lips shift again in an upwards movement. “It is but it’s not awkward, which I thought it might be.”
He’s not wrong about that. It could have been completely weird meeting a near perfect stranger, but it’s not.
“This is your first attempt with online dating?” I ask.
His fingers run over his jaw and I follow the movement, liking the way they scratch over the stubble. “I wish. I’ve not had much luck, I hate to say. The whole living on an island seems to be a huge deal breaker. Anyway, I was going to give in; I’d had more than enough, but you popped up as a match and I liked what I read about you, so I thought I’d give it one last try.” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “No pressure, but you’re my last hope. If we don’t gel I may have to consider Doris as a potential partner, and she’s about sixteen times older than me.”
I guffaw at his blatant exaggeration. “Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen now, would we?”
He wrinkles his nose. “I definitely don’t.” When he straightens in his chair, he lets out a low breath. “Although maybe before we go any further we should get the whole distance thing out in the open.”
And here we go…
23
Callum
“What about the distance thing?” she asks, and I love that she said that too—as if it’s not an issue. In fact, I pretty much love everything about her.
