by Clare Lydon
The London Of Us
London Romance Series, Book Four
Clare Lydon
Contents
Also By Clare Lydon
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Acknowledgments
Leaving A Review Makes You More Attractive!
Also By Clare Lydon
Want More of The London Romance Series?
London, Actually: Chapter One
First Edition June 2018
Published by Custard Books
Copyright © 2018 Clare Lydon
ISBN: 978-1-912019-74-8
Cover Design: Kevin Pruitt
Editor: Laura Kingsley
Copy Editor: Gill Mullins
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Find out more at: www.clarelydon.co.uk
Follow me on Twitter: @clarelydon
Follow me on Instagram: @clarefic
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All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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This is a work of fiction. All characters & happenings in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons (living or dead), locales or events is purely coincidental.
Also By Clare Lydon
London Romance Series
London Calling (Book One)
This London Love (Book Two)
A Girl Called London (Book Three)
London, Actually (Book Five)
Made In London (Book Six)
Other Novels
The Long Weekend
Nothing To Lose: A Lesbian Romance
Twice In A Lifetime
Once Upon A Princess
You’re My Kind
A Taste Of Love
All I Want Series
All I Want For Christmas (Book One)
All I Want For Valentine’s (Book Two)
All I Want For Spring (Book Three)
All I Want For Summer (Book Four)
All I Want For Autumn (Book Five)
All I Want Forever (Book Six)
Boxsets
London Romance Series, Books 1-3
London Romance Series, Books 4-6
London Romance Series, Books 1-6
All I Want Series, Books 1-3
All I Want Series, Books 4-6
All I Want Series, Books 1-6
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Fancy a free lesbian romance? If you do, click this link to grab your copy of It Had To Be You now!
It’s never too late, especially to be yourself.
Chapter 1
I’d had the dream again.
I woke in a flurry of hot sheets and damp skin, trying to ground myself back in reality, rather than my dreams which had become far too vivid recently.
Too late: my heart was banging against my sternum and all I could see was her.
I didn’t have to touch myself to know I was wet.
For the past three months, my dreams hadn’t held back, telling me everything I needed to know, everything I desperately wanted to ignore.
The sheets next to me were still warm: Jake was up and in the shower, already deep into his daily routine. But today, I had no plans, nowhere to be. It was the middle of July, and this particular Saturday was special because it was day one of the summer holidays, and six weeks with no teaching stretched ahead of me like a long, sandy beach, the sea my day, glittering with excitement. I could either dive in or sit on the edge. It was up to me.
The shower shut off.
I tensed as I heard the curtain being pulled back. In two minutes, Jake would be in here, being perky.
He was a morning person, and I was not.
Scrap that — Jake was a morning person, an afternoon person, and an evening person. Constantly upbeat, always ready with a smile. In the year and a half we’d been together, I could count his down days on one hand.
And even saying ‘down days’ was a lie.
Jake didn’t have down days: he just had marginally less upbeat days.
Unlike me, who was having a cluster of what-the-fuck days of late. On top of all that, I’d got a massive spot on the end of my nose that felt like it had doubled in size overnight. When I peered down, I could see it winking at me, my own face mocking me.
“Morning sleepyhead!” Jake walked into the bedroom from the en suite, steam following him from the doorway.
He never remembered to open the bathroom window.
He walked round the bed and bent to kiss me: I winced as our lips connected, but Jake didn’t notice. I was sure he’d be able to taste the hesitation on my breath, but he was oblivious — of the hesitation, and of my spot.
Jake never saw my bad points, only the good.
Lately, it was a habit that was starting to grate.
Seconds later, his head was buried in his wardrobe, and he was pulling out clean shorts and a workout top, slipping them on while I yawned.
Jake was a personal trainer, so this was his office wear. As his head reappeared out of his top, his curls sprang out, then back. His hair hadn’t changed since he was a kid – I’d seen the photos. He was cute then and he was cute now.
It’s just, I wasn’t sure Jake’s brand of cuteness worked for me anymore.
“Morning.” I finally managed to get some words out, before stretching my arms above my head, trying to appear relaxed, normal.
Inside, I was anything but.
“What time’s your first client?”
“Eight,” Jake replied, checking his watch. “So I better get moving. What are your plans till I come get you later?”
I stared at him, his biceps rippling under Lycra. When we’d first started going out, his strength had been one of the things I’d found attractive.
I shrugged. “Nothing big — I’m easing in slowly. Maybe some TV, some tea and crumpets.”
“Take it slow,” he said, with a grin. “Work up to the bigger goals.” He grabbed his work bag, striding over to me. He smelled like musk and honey, his favourite shower gel. “I’ve got clients till 11, but then I’ll come pick you up to go to Ikea.” He looked down at my book, watch and rings sitting on the thick, beige carpet. “It’s time for the next step in our relationship — proper, grown-up bedside tables with drawers and everything.”
He kissed me again, this time leaving his lips inches from mine.
I tried not to flinch, but even that action felt dishonest.
Jake didn’t deserve dishonesty.
He really didn’t deserve any of this.
“You smell delicious,” he ad
ded, his smile undimmed, his gaze caressing my skin. “Shame I have to go.”
I reached out and touched his stubble, ever-present, along with his chestnut waves.
Beside me, my bedside lamp flickered, and Jake glanced at it.
“Might get you a new lamp, too.”
I couldn’t wait. “Have a good morning.”
One that isn’t soaked in life questions and self-doubt.
He gave me a wink, then turned and left the room.
The front door slammed and I relaxed for the first time that morning. I spread my legs in the bed, then my arms, wriggling over to the middle, revelling in the space. It’s what I needed more than anything right now.
Space to breathe, space to think.
The school holidays had come at just the right time. Although too much time to think might send me into a tailspin, and I didn’t need that.
I wanted to scream at the universe, to ask what was happening to me.
Why couldn’t I just carry on with Jake and be happy? Plenty of women would be.
But deep down inside, I knew what was happening.
And her name was Rachel.
Chapter 2
Two months earlier…
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“Babe, you need to look at the camera as well as Rachel when you’re chatting. Remember, you’re talking to the audience as well as being Rachel’s muse.” Jake’s head was cocked as he gave me direction from behind the video camera. He needed a haircut, but I’d told him that for the past two weeks and he kept telling me he was too busy.
I nodded. “Okay, I’ll try.” We’d just done a run-through of this week’s cookery section for our YouTube channel, Fit & Tasty, but none of this was easy, with Jake’s lens trained on me, and Rachel standing next to me.
It used to be way easier, but recently, not so much.
I was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable around Rachel.
Perhaps uncomfortable was the wrong word.
What was the right word?
Nervous?
Flighty?
And then a word landed on my tongue: aroused.
I stalled at my own internal dialogue.
Aroused? Really?
If Rachel knew what I was thinking, she’d die laughing — that much I knew.
Over the past year, we’d become close friends, and I wasn’t about to tell her she made me aroused, especially when that seemed preposterous.
Rachel didn’t arouse me, she was my friend. And where did that language even come from? Was I turning into a Victorian-era cliché? Would I start wearing Pride And Prejudice-style bonnets soon, wafting my many-layered undergarments as I walked?
I was parking ‘aroused’.
I had a boyfriend, after all. Although that fact didn’t seem to be the barrier it once was, with my body reacting in all sorts of weird ways every time Rachel was nearby.
Perhaps flustered described it better. That, and tongue-tied, which was the last thing I wanted when Jake was staring at me.
Rachel — the one who was making me flustered, tongue-tied and whatever else — skidded back into the kitchen, breaking my thoughts. Her short, dark hair was styled to perfection, her pale skin carrying just the right amount of make-up for the camera. She’d lost weight since we began filming: I hadn’t thought she’d had any to lose, but she’d reacted to seeing herself on-screen, describing herself as a “hefty lump”.
It was the last thing I thought she was. With her strong arms and fierce cheekbones, I thought she was exquisite.
And there was another new word I was using when I thought about Rachel.
It was certainly better than aroused.
Rachel’s sparkling blue eyes made me think of summer days and endless nights.
Damn, that was new, too.
This time last year, I was just getting to know her, after we’d ended up being left together when our two best friends, Tanya and Sophie, began seeing each other. Within months, we’d become firm friends, fuelled by our love of food — Rachel was a chef, and I just loved to cook and eat. We became once-a-month restaurant buddies, trying out all the new openings around town.
And then, six months ago, Rachel and Jake had decided to team up and create a whole new sideline, dreamed up in this very flat over a meal that my oldest friend Tanya had cooked.
I could still remember the night: Tanya and Sophie on one side of the table, Jake and I down the other, and Rachel presiding over us, getting more excited by the second as the idea was tossed around. Jake wanted to share his personal training secrets, while Rachel wanted to demystify cooking with her flavour-packed recipes — and their YouTube channel, Fit & Tasty, was born.
So, in a way, this was all Tanya’s fault. Especially because she then volunteered her flat with its massive kitchen as our filming base, which meant any excuses we might have had to stall the launch vanished.
Somewhere along the line, I’d been pulled in front of the camera and was now a regular feature on Rachel’s cooking segment, as well as being camera operative and video editor. I’d taught myself video editing as part of my role as Head of Art & Design at the local college a couple of years previous, so I was happy to help. It was being in front of the camera that was tipping me out of my comfort zone.
“Found them!” Rachel said, brandishing solid wooden salad tongs in her right hand. Over the past few weeks I’d noticed how long and slim her fingers were, and how they were covered in scars from encounters with knives and hot plates — a hazard of being a chef according to her.
Rachel shared a flat ten floors below with Sophie, her best friend and Tanya’s girlfriend — which meant if she couldn’t find what she needed at Tanya’s, it was easy for her to nip downstairs to retrieve it from her own kitchen.
“I still don’t understand why you need those tongs,” Jake said.
I didn’t need to glance at Rachel to know she was giving him a look. “That’s why you’re the muscle in this relationship, and I’m the brains.”
Jake grinned. “And I have no problem with that.”
The relationship between Rachel and Jake warmed my heart: it was like the cutest brother-sister match-up ever, without any of the history and family angst. They had the perfect, goofy, on-screen chemistry.
Rachel and I used to have the perfect on-screen frisson, too, but lately, something had changed and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.
She was cooking a delicious yet simple pasta with mozzarella, tomatoes and basil, and her fingers were slick with olive oil as she mixed the ingredients in a glass bowl with her bare hands. The sweet smell of the tomatoes was making my stomach growl: Rachel had bought them from her special supplier and the taste was off-the-charts good, the kitchen smelling like it had just been punched in the face by an Italian.
It really was true what they said: if you started off with the best ingredients, the food was always going to be great. The buffalo mozzarella Rachel was using was so ripe, it was almost walking off the plate. My dad, an Italian by birth and happiest when he was creating in the kitchen, would adore everything Rachel did.
Between the ingredients and the chef, I’d be hard-pushed to envisage a more perfect lunch.
And there I went with my new, weird thoughts again, blood rushing to my cheeks as I processed them.
Maybe ‘aroused’ wasn’t too far off the mark.
Had Jake noticed? I hoped not.
I glanced at Rachel who was washing her hands, oblivious.
I was doing a good job of sitting on my emotions, squashing them down until they couldn’t breathe.
“Sorry to be a pain, but can you give me two more minutes? I need the loo.” Rachel dried her hands on Tanya’s bright orange tea towel. Then she walked down the hallway, leaving Jake and I alone.
On this fresh May morning, the flat was flooded with buttery sunshine even though the temperature outside was only just clambering into double figures. Tanya’s flat, our base for Fit & Tasty, had a wall of glass on one side, which sucked
up the sunlight on the 30th floor, making our show look sun-kissed, rich and gorgeous. Her open-plan kitchen and marble-topped island made our cookery segments pop, too, and we were all beyond grateful she’d agreed to let us use it to get the channel up and running.
As soon as the bathroom door shut, Jake walked over to me and my stomach flipped, but not in a good way.
“You seem a little tense today, a bit stilted,” he said, reaching out to rub my arm. “Everything okay?”
I nodded, giving him a tight smile, before smoothing out its jagged edges as best I could. “Just a bit tired, that’s all.”
Tired of all these emotions swirling in the sticky silence. Tired of wondering what the hell was going on in my head.
“You look gorgeous, so just pick it up for the recording,” he replied. “Give the camera some love. And remember, I’m behind the camera, and you love me, so it should be easy, right?” He gave me a peck on the lips, before resuming his position.
Not for the first time today, everything that came out of his mouth was an irritant, but I ignored it. Jake was purely directing the shoot as normal but, somehow, it felt like he was intruding on ‘us’. An ‘us’ that only included me and Rachel.
My world view had been tipped on its head and I was struggling to make sense of anything I was thinking or feeling.
