Safer Alone (The Safer Duet #1)

by Amy Rose

  “It will never work between the two of you Angela. You’re not meant to be with him. You’re meant to be with me and only me.” I turn around toward the sound of the voice behind me and see Dylan standing there, dressed in faded blue jeans with cuts to the front, and a white polo shirt. “We are the same, Angela. You and I.” He takes a step toward me.

  I turn back toward Elliot. What on earth must he be thinking? I need to explain. Instead he is smiling at me “Would you like to see me again, Angela?” He reaches his hand out towards mine, facing upwards, open, waiting to see if I will take it. I don’t reach out to him, I can’t let him hold it. I don’t understand what is happening.

  “Why would you want to see me again?” I ask, not answering his question, I go to stand up from the table and look around, Dylan is no longer there, I feel an electrical current running along my arm, looking at where the feeling is I watch Elliot’s finger running along my arm, leaving a blazing trail where it has been, I turn around to look at him and he reaches his arm around my waist pulling my body flush against his. Before I know it, he is kissing me, my mouth opening up to his, our tongues dancing with one another’s.

  I open my eyes and pull back, it’s not Elliot’s eyes I am looking into anymore, but Dylan’s cold, hard stare. “What’s wrong, Angie? I’m not the one you wanted to kiss, I presume?” He takes a step back and pulls his baseball bat from behind him and without even giving me a second to react, he swings it hard and connects with my face.

  I wake up screaming, sitting up in bed throwing the covers off, and touching my face, my arms then fall onto the sheets, realizing that I am completely safe, in the comfort of my own home. I run from my bed into the bathroom, turning on the taps, I cup my hands under the stream of water and splash cool liquid on my face, turning off the tap, I shake my hands, flicking off the water droplets, before drying them on the hand towel hanging on the side of the vanity.

  I raise one of my hands and place it palm down across my heart, it feels as though it is going to leap from my chest at any given moment. The quickened pace doing nothing to help me calm down. I engage the breathing techniques that I found on Google after the first week of nightmares. One deep breath in, hold it for five seconds and then release, followed by doing it all again until I feel my heart beat starting to settle into a normal rhythm. It only takes a couple of minutes this time.

  Happy with my emotions coming back into check, I walk slowly back to my queen-sized bed and hop straight in, laying on my back. I pull the covers up over me and rest my arms on top. My eyes stare at the ceiling, into the darkness above. I concentrate on maintaining my breathing, slow and deep.

  I hate the fact that Dylan is still in my dreams, and that somehow, he continues to haunt me now. That wasn’t the most shocking part of the dream though. Elliot had also made an appearance, and I wasn’t adequately dressed to be in his presence. My subconscious was clearly telling me what deep down I already knew: that there was no chance for us.

  I roll over onto my side and lift the pillow once again to my chest. I look toward the large window, staring through the sheer curtains, I begin the wait for daylight to break.

  ~ Chapter Nine ~

  Monday comes and I drag myself out of bed, feeling incredibly tired. It was noticeable that these nightmares were really starting to affect me. I followed my morning routine, albeit sluggishly, taking a piece of toast with me as I headed out the front door, eating the entire piece by the time I started the car’s ignition.

  The drive to work is quiet. Generally there are not many people on the road before 8:00 am. Thanks to my early start I am easily able to secure a parking spot right in front of the office. I head inside, punching my security code into the pad located to the right-hand side of the front door. Thankfully I am the first person in this morning, so there is no need to exchange pleasantries with anyone. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that I am not quite feeling up to it just yet. Maybe after this showing.

  I make my way past the reception desk, and take my turn off to the right toward my office. Once inside, I drop off paperwork that I am not going to need and collect a flyer on the home I am about to head out to show on Partridge Street. I wait for my computer to fire up; I log in and open my email program, checking a couple of new emails before making my way back out of the office. Since no one has arrived I turn the security alarm back on for now, closing and locking the door behind me.

  The traffic remains light during the short drive to the property on Partridge Street, which is beneficial as I arrive at my showing five minutes early. Walking right up the front door of the house I wait for my clients. This home is presently vacant, therefore I don’t need to advise anyone I am here. Having showed the property as recently as last Friday, I know that inside the property is clean and tidy, so I decide to wait on the front porch for my prospective buyers to arrive.

  Pulling up out the front in a small silver Ford, a young family exits the vehicle. The mother bends down to pick up a young girl, securing her safely in her arms. As they approach, I plaster a genuine smile across my face, “Hi there, you must be the Thompson family,” I call out.

  The male in the family, a tall, slender fellow with greying hair replies “Yes we are. I’m Michael, this is my wife, Kimberley and this shy little one is our daughter, Mia.” He points each one out as he speaks their name. When he reaches the landing, a step away from me, I offer my hand which he takes within his own slender hand in a quick handshake. Kimberley just waves with a flick of her wrist, having her hands full with the now-bouncing Mia.

  “Well let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” I turn and unlock the glass paneled front door, wiping my shoes on the doormat at the entrance before walking in. The property, a small stand-alone located on Partridge Street, is a quaint three-bedroom home with one bathroom, separate single garage, a level, fully fenced back yard and is located in a great school district. Internally the home is in fairly good condition, it had been giving a clean slate by the previous owners, hoping that it would appeal to more prospective purchasers. They repainted the entire inside of the home and replaced the old flooring with new dark brown carpet. The floor was a timber plank-looking vinyl, the walls had been painted a soft beige color with the trim, doors and ceiling all being white. All in all, it was clean and tidy.

  I was happy that the walk-through goes by quite quickly, surprised though with the lack of conversation. Instead the Thompson family were content to be shown the home and talking amongst themselves before leaving.

  Once we were again at the front of the property we spoke to one another once more. “So tell me guys, what do you think of this gem?”

  “It’s great, a good size for us too which is what we are after. The renovations done to the property are very boring, I guess, but at least the walls aren’t bright colors like some of the other homes we have looked at lately” they share a knowing look at each other.

  I smile. “I have seen a few homes with some bright colors in my days too. They aren’t for everyone, I’m afraid.”

  “Well Angela, we will discuss it a bit more in the coming days and get back to you. Do you have a card with your details where we can reach you?”

  I reach into my folder and hand them my business card. “This has my email and cell number too. Feel free to contact me with any other questions, or if you would like to have another look at the home.”

  “We will. Thanks Angela.” And with that Michael offers his hand to me once more, we shake, smiling at each other and they head back to their car and drive away.

  Once I return to the office, I locate Jenny at her desk. “Hey Jenny, can you meet me in my office in five minutes? I have a few things I need you to chase down for me.”

  Looking up from her computer she smiles “Of course, Ange, I’ll be there in a sec.” Continuing on, I enter my own office and place my diary on the desk and open it to today’s date in front of me. I grab my coffee cup from the top drawer of my desk, along with one of the teabags I keep h
idden from the other staff members, and go to the kitchen. One thing I love about the office kitchen, is having one of those permanently boiling water dispensers. I love not having to wait for a kettle to boil. Placing my cup underneath the tap I pull the lever down and boiling water slowly fills my cup. Placing the tea bag in, I wander back into my office and sit down for the first time today in my leather chair.

  “Are you ready for me now?” Jenny peers around the door, I wave her in while sipping my tea, placing it down in front of me,

  “Of course, come in.” Jenny takes up position on the opposite side of my desk in one of the matching black leather chairs.

  Jenny is thirty-six, so a few years older than I. “First, how about you tell me what you did over the weekend?” I knew this question would buy me a few more minutes of enjoying my tea. One thing that Jenny could be counted on was telling you, in great detail, anything she gets up to outside of work hours.

  “It was really great, Ange. Ben and I celebrated our one-year anniversary. He made this delicious meal for us at his house. He cooked a roast. I was so surprised that he could do that, and then afterwards we had some ice cream. And then the best thing ever happened,” she pauses, waiting for me to ask her.

  I smile. “Well tell me. What happened?”

  A huge smile spreads across her beautiful features, her green eyes filled with excitement, she sweeps her forefinger, in an attempt to brush her short brown hair behind her ear, “Oh, Ange, he asked me to move in with him. I couldn’t believe it. Of course I said yes. I was never going to say no. It was amazing. I’m just so happy. How about you? Anything interesting?”

  I couldn’t help but smile with how happy Jenny was, “I’m so happy for you and Ben. As for me, nothing out of the ordinary, just my open houses. You know me Jen, I don’t have a social life, except for the occasional drink with you” I roll my eyes and take another sip of tea.

  Jenny doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to, it’s written all over her face with the sympathetic look that she is wearing. “Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads up. I’ve got two sales on the line at the moment. The first is the Belle Meade Homestead. I’ll be sending off the written offer to the owners after our meeting. The other is that brand new listing on Johnson Street, you know the one I haven’t advertised yet. I am still waiting to hear back from the owners. If I haven’t heard anything today, can you please send them an email on my behalf? You know the one we generally use asking them to please contact me as soon as they can?” Jenny is scribbling madly on her notepad, nodding so often she looks like one of those bobble head dolls. I don’t know how anybody else would be able to decipher her notes, but as long as she can, I am happy.

  “That’s no worries, Ange. Is there anything else you need that I can do to help? Do you need me to scan any paperwork for you or organize any other showings?” This is one of the many things I love about my assistant and friend Jenny, her efficiency. She is always there to help me out with the things that I hate doing. The printer is right next to her desk so scanning is something I usually give her to do. It saves me making a hundred trips back and forth.

  “I will have some important documents for you to scan and file later. Can you please draft out the advertisements for this weekend’s open houses and send it through?”

  “Can do.” Standing up she makes her way to the door.

  “Thanks Jenny” I call out just before she disappears.

  She smiles over her shoulder. “You got it, Ange,” and then she is gone.

  The remainder of the morning is spent fielding phone inquiries, returning emails and checking that all paperwork is in order. I submit the last item of paperwork for Liam and Jess and email their full-price offer through to the Johnson Street sellers’ solicitor. The day is going quickly.

  I don’t even have time for a proper lunch break, instead I end up just having a cup of soup at my desk. You know the ones that you tear open the sachet, empty it into a mug and add boiling water. Then in two minutes, hey presto, you have a delicious soup. Chicken noodles it is for me today. What I would give for a fresh crusty bread roll to dip into it though. It would make it perfect.

  It is a quarter to five when I next have a chance to look at my watch. I have accomplished nearly every task I had set for myself for the day, with the exception of one. I compiled the appropriate paperwork that required signatures from Elliot earlier today. All that remains is to email them off to him. I had decided to wait till later in the day in the hopes that he wouldn’t reply before I leave for the evening. I compile the email, reminding myself that there is no need to say anything further about last night’s dinner. Instead I decide to remain completely professional, stick to the facts, and those facts are that this email is in regards to the sale of the property:

  Dear Mr. Sands,

  I hope your trip back to New York went well.

  I have attached the appropriate paperwork requiring your signature, this will allow me to submit your offer to purchase the following property:

  Belle Meade Homestead

  If you could please sign and return to me as soon as convenient, I will then commence proceedings on your behalf.

  Warm Regards,

  Angela White

  Licensed Real Estate Agent Nashville Realty

  I attach the forms which I had Jenny convert to a PDF to the email, including my own email address in the list of recipients, and hit send. No mention of last night, entirely professional. I hear the all-too-familiar ping from my phone which alerts me that the email has gone through. I shut down my computer and collect my items, including the paperwork that I had just sent to Elliot, which I slid into my folder. “See you tomorrow, Sandra,” I wave as I walk past.

  Not content with a simple goodbye, Sandra stops me. “Angela, honey. I wanted to congratulate you again on the two possible sales you created over the weekend. Well done, keep up the good work!” She takes my hand in hers and gives it a quick squeeze before letting me go. I can’t help but smile.

  “Thank you” I turn on my heel and hurry out the door.

  I am so ready for home. It’s a bad sign when on Monday you are already counting down the days until the weekend arrives. Four more days, I think to myself. In that moment my cell phone rings. Looking at the screen it appears to be a local phone number. It could possibly be the Thompsons who looked at the house on Partridge Street this morning. Not wanting to miss them, I hit the green accept button and hold it to my ear, “Angela White,” I answer while retrieving my keys from my handbag.

  “Good evening, Angela, it’s Elliot”

  I drop my keys and almost the phone at the same time at the sound of his deep voice. Luckily I manage to keep hold of it. Why on earth was he calling from a local Nashville telephone number? He was supposed to have headed back to New York City this morning, wasn’t he? “Ah, Elliot, hi.” Why is he calling?

  I bend down and scoop my keys from the ground and press the unlock button for my car. Opening the driver’s seat door, I throw my handbag and folder across onto the passenger seat before sliding in. “I apologize for not knowing it was you, but the number I have saved for you didn’t come up on my phone.” it was a lame excuse but I hoped that it would get him talking.

  “I’m not calling from my cell. I’m using the landline in my room at The Hermitage.”

  My heart races, he is still here. “You’re still in town?” I squeak,

  He chuckles on his end of the line “I don’t fly out till 10:00 pm this evening, Angela.” That didn’t make a lot of sense. Why would you waste an entire work day hanging around in a town where you couldn’t do anything, and why didn’t the hotel kick him out at 10:00 am, like they do to every other person? The answer, no doubt, was because of who he is.

  It’s really none of my business, though. I decide to push on and find out the reason for his phone call. “Did you get the email I sent this afternoon?” Neutral ground, Angela, good work.

  “Yes that’s actually why I’m calling. I don�
�t have a printer with me. If you haven’t left the office yet, would you be able to print them for me, and I can swing by and collect them?” Okay, he still wants to go ahead with the purchase, that’s a positive. My almost-heart attack eases. Going back to the office would be the smart thing to do. I could wait in my office for him to show up. Then again…?

  “I just left the office actually, I’m on my way home now.” I pause waiting for him to say something. Instead he stays quiet. I press on. “I think I might have them with me in my folder, though. Let me look.” I pause, knowing they are with me. I guess I could swing by quickly, see him again, for professional reasons, of course. “Yep, I do have them, I can drop them by for you if that’s easier?” I decide against including the remainder of my thought, ‘that way I can see you again.’

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll wait in the bar downstairs for you. Thank you, Angela” The phone clicks off.

  I sit in my car for a few minutes. Grabbing my lip gloss out of my bag, I apply a small amount. Turning the key in the ignition, I pull out of my spot and drive to the Hermitage. Traffic is heavy at this time of day and it takes me a little over twenty minutes to reach my destination. I park in the same spot as last night. After killing the engine, I scoop up the folder along with my handbag, flicking down my visor to take one more look at myself in the mirror, my eyes look back at me. Albeit a little tired, I look good.

  I step out, lock the car and wander into the hotel, past the entrance to the restaurant and straight into the bar. I see Elliot immediately. His masculine figure is positioned on a high-backed black metal stool at the counter. I inhale a breath while I walk up behind him, once I am just behind him I reach out with my free hand and tap him on the shoulder. “Elliot.” He spins around at my touch, and a smile spreads across his face when he realizes it’s me. Is he happy to see me?