I heave myself into the shower, all the while giving myself a stern lecture to get myself together. The warm water finally calms the tension radiating through my body, and it is with great reluctance that I finally climb out when my alarms goes off again. I dress quickly in my favourite dark-navy jeans and an emerald-green chunky knit cardigan that I found in a charity shop in Brighton during one of my visits with Nonna. She always says that the colour suits me, bringing out the jade in my eyes, and I have to admit that my dream has definitely brought some colour to my cheeks, giving me a glow that I don’t normally have. The weather looks decidedly grey outside, so I add a scarf and hat to my ‘Paddington Bear’ duffel coat before making my way down the road to catch the bus to the office.
I find myself remembering my dream in glorious Technicolor several times, squirming in my seat as arousal sparks through me once again. I find that I have to berate myself and eventually I plug myself into my music player in an effort to drown out my disturbing thoughts.
As I round the corner with my bagel and latte in hand, I find my heart beating a rapid crescendo as I near the office. Please don’t let him be in. Please don’t let him be in. My desperate mantra accompanies me through security, up the lift and across to my desk. Despite the relief at not running into Taylor, I can’t help but acknowledge the stab of disappointment that has seared through me.
The morning passes in a blur of data, and by the time my stomach starts to signal that it is time for lunch, I feel that I have made good headway with Eddy’s report. A couple of more hours is all I need and then I can head on home. I make my way to the kitchen to grab a drink and heat up the soup I have brought with me. I am just pulling back from the fridge when I suddenly become aware of a presence behind me. I gasp and whirl round with fright.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Taylor says with a lazy smile.
“Bloody hell! You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” I retort, my blood pumping through my veins.
“Um, I didn’t know anyone was in. I was out of milk upstairs and popped down to grab some. If anything, you shouldn’t hide in the fridge and jump out at unsuspecting people.”
“Oh, hardy ha. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” My indignation starts to melt as his unique scent catches me. Without warning the images from my dream coming flooding back, and I feel the heat rise up my neck and my cheeks flush pink.
The tension becomes palpable in the small area, and once again I feel the electricity surging through my veins as I look into Taylor’s deep-brown eyes.
“Look, sorry about the way I left you last night.” Taylor’s apology comes out of left field, the kiss having been eclipsed by my dream. I can feel the blush deepen across my cheeks, and I curse my colouring for always making it so easy to read my emotions. My breath hitches as Taylor takes a step towards me so that our hips are almost touching and I am forced to look up to read his expression.
With agonising slowness, Taylor reaches up to caress my face. “I don’t know what it is about you, Abby, but I can’t seem to think clearly when I am round you. All my control just…just disappears.” With that, his grip tightens on the back of my head, bringing my lips up to his. As the kiss deepens and his tongue begins to explore my mouth with passion, I find myself being pushed against the counter.
Taylor’s body melds to mine, and I can feel his erection digging into my hip. Letting go, I wind my hands up over his shoulders and into Taylor’s silky hair. Arousal courses through my body, and unconsciously I find myself grinding my hips against him. With a moan, Taylor lifts me onto the countertop, pulling my legs up and wrapping them around his waist. Slipping a hand into my cardigan, he starts to massage first one breast and then the other.
“Perfect,” whispers Taylor, almost in reverence. My body aches and my nipples peak into hard nubs begging for attention. As Taylor tweaks one through my bra, I gasp as sensation floods my pelvis. Panting, I gasp, “More!”
“Ah, fuck!" Taylor exclaims, pushing himself away, the sudden movement catching me unawares.
“Sorry, Abby, I shouldn’t be doing this.” Taylor’s voice is unexpectedly harsh, and I feel like I have been slapped in the face.
“Um, okay,” I whisper, unable to meet his eyes.
“Aw shit, Abby. Don’t look at me like I just shot Bambi. I am your boss. This is completely inappropriate.” Taylor shifts his weight back on his heels and pushes his hands through his hair in agitation.
I don’t know how to respond, so feeling utterly rejected, I walk away back to my desk. I have barely walked a couple of metres when Taylor grabs my arm and pulls me into his chest in a firm embrace.
“It’s not you. It’s me, Abby. It’s…complicated,” he murmurs.
“Ah, that old chestnut,” I reply. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, knowing that I am on the brink of tears. With an unexpected gentleness, Taylor moves back, placing a kiss on my forehead. Slowly I turn and walk away. When I glance around a few moments later, Taylor has disappeared.
With a curse I feel the tears start to make their way down my face. I try to wipe them away with angry swipes, but still they continue to fall. Frustrated and hurt, I throw myself back into my work, mindless that I still haven’t eaten, in an effort to push aside my misery.
At last I am able to hit Send on the report to Eddy. Despite everything that has gone on with Taylor, I feel a sense of accomplishment at the work that I have done. As I pack away my computer and tidy my desk, I realise that I am hungry. Vowing to treat myself on the way home to something hideously calorific, I head out the door.
The Third
As I push my way into Alfredo’s at nine thirty on the dot, I mentally prepare myself for the Spanish Inquisition. For once Michelle is already there ahead of me, waiting with two steaming lattes and the biggest cinnamon bun I have ever seen.
“Oh my god,” she sighs with a mouthful of crumbs. “You so have to try this.”
“Mmm, looks scrumptious.” I eye the bun with delight, feeling ready to get everything off my chest. I settle down in my seat, breaking off a piece of the bun, and take a sip of my coffee.
“Come on, then. Spill the beans, Abby. I can’t believe you have made me wait this long!”
“Um, well, okay …” I stammer, suddenly feeling rather shy about everything that has gone on over the last couple of days. I start off describing the event in the kitchen and work my way through until our encounter last night, omitting my dream as I don’t think I am ready to share that with anyone!
“Bloody hell, Abs, you are a dark horse.” Michelle gives me the once-over, scrutinising me over her designer glasses, making me feel like one of those science experiments at school.
“Not really,” I mumble. “It just kind of happened. But that’s it, nothing more. Taylor has made that abundantly clear.”
“It doesn’t really sound like that, hon. From what you have told me, it sounds like he wants you as much as you want him. But I can see his point. He’s your boss and that could make things really complicated.”
“I know. I have just never experienced anything like this before.”
“Ah, sweetie, I am hardly the expert,” Michelle says drolly.
I snort into my coffee. “Come on, Chelle, you are always being wined and dined.” Michelle is twenty-five and drop-dead gorgeous. It also helps that she comes from minor aristocracy so spends her weekends with people called Alistair and Kiki. She never has a shortage of gorgeous, available, well-bred men whisking her off to the opera in Covent Garden or taking her away for minibreaks in the Cotswolds.
“You might be right, but I couldn’t say that I have ever met a guy whose clothes I have wanted to rip off without even knowing his name. Even Jeremy was a bit of a slow burner.” Jeremy Renner. The love of Michelle’s life between the age of eighteen and twenty-two. Jeremy, who died when some idiot got into a car drunk and decided it was a good idea to drive the two miles home from the pub. Even saying his name causes tears to well up in Michelle’s eyes. “Dammit, you would
think I might start getting over this…It’s been three bloody years already!”
I pat Michelle’s hand because I know this is as much as I can do to comfort her. Her pain is still so raw that I think she plays the field to try and forget, and I feel bad that I have brought this up for her. She takes a steadying breath and plasters on a fake smile.
“So what are we going to do to make you forget about Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome Bossman?” Michelle jokes with a weak laugh.
“I don’t know,” I say with a sigh. I just can’t seem to get Taylor out of my head. Each time I replay the scene in my head, it makes me feel even more down. I glance up at the clock and realise with all our chatting time has flown by and if I don’t get a move on I will miss my train.
“Hon, I have gotta dash. Nonna will kill me if I am late…It’s chicken parma today.”
“No worries, Abs. You can’t be late for chicken parma.” Michelle has eaten several times with us and knows just how amazing Nonna’s cooking is. “You take care and I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.” I give her a big squeeze and head off down the road to grab a bus to the train station.
.........................
As the bus trundles towards King’s Cross St Pancras, I plug my earphones in and blast out some rock music to try and drown my thoughts, and I focus my energies by making up stories in my head about the people around me. I manage to keep this up all the way down to Brighton on the train and on the short bus ride to Nonna’s house. Before I know it, I am standing outside her door without any clear memory of the mechanics of my actual journey.
“Nonna!” I call out to my grandmother as I walk through the unlocked front door of her basement flat. Nonna hurries out of the kitchen to greet me in her normal bustling way that I find comforting. The last couple of days have turned my world upside down, so being here, in the home that has defined my childhood, fills me with a sense of peace.
“Bella Abigail. My darling, let me look at you.” Nonna hugs me tightly, then holds me at arm’s-length, scrutinising me in a way that seems to look through to my soul. “You have lost weight, darling. They are working you far too hard up there in the Big Smoke.”
“Nonsense, Nonna. I am exactly the same as last week. You are just being dramatic!” I hand Nonna a bunch of vibrant orange gerbera that I managed to find at the station and follow her through to the kitchen, my nose picking up the delicious aromas of our lunch.
“Ah, well, it’s my Italian heritage. Do you expect me to be anything else?” I chuckle at our long-standing joke, and we start chatting about everything we have both been up to during the week. The normalcy of our everyday chat and the environment soothe me, and soon I almost feel like the last couple of days have not happened, or at least they happened to someone else.
“So, Abigail, any sign of a nice young man, then, on the horizon?” Nonna queries, as she does every visit. I can feel the heat rising at the direct question, and given that I have never lied to Nonna before, I don’t think I can now.
“Oh, Nonna…” I sigh. “There is someone, but it won’t work out.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” Nonna retorts.
“Well, he is my boss—well, my boss’s boss, and so there is no chance of anything happening. He kissed me when he dropped me home, but then he rejected me when we kissed again…” I am aware that I am rambling incoherently, but I just can’t seem to get a grasp on what I want to say. Nonna looks at me with her normal serene expression, waiting for me to continue.
“Um, need the loo,” I mumble and dash off to the bathroom before Nonna can say a word. I sit on the edge of the bath, trying to calm my rapid thoughts down, when I am suddenly interrupted by a loud crashing noise. With a start, I head back to the kitchen, calling Nonna’s name. When I don’t get a response, a prickle of fear slides down my spine, and I break into a run down the corridor.
I arrive in the kitchen, and it is as if the air has been sucked out of the room as I look at Nonna lying prone on the floor. I drop to my knees, calling out her name, desperately trying to feel for a pulse, a heartbeat, anything. My hands shaking, instinct drives me to the telephone, and I find myself talking to an emergency dispatcher, who calmly takes my details and assures me that help is on the way. I feel useless as I sit on the floor beside Nonna. As the dispatcher calmly carries on talking in my ear, asking questions, I do my best to answer while at the same time straining to hear the sound of the ambulance arriving.
The clock ticks loudly, and inwardly I am urging the ambulance to go faster, faster. It feels like a lifetime, but in reality only minutes have gone by when the doorbell rings. I run to the door, throwing it open and ushering the ambulance crew through to the kitchen. I stand back to give them access to Nonna, all the while offering up a silent prayer that she is going to be okay. As they work on her still and lifeless body, I am distracted by food simmering on the hob and the cracked dish of chicken parma on the floor. As if I am an automaton, I turn the hob off and start cleaning up the floor, knowing that Nonna would be devastated if she knew people were seeing her normally pristine kitchen in such a state.
“Honey,” says the female paramedic who has been attending to Nonna. I start and turn my attention to her. “Honey, I am afraid she is gone.” The air whooshes out of my lungs, and it is all I can do not to collapse on the floor. I realise I am holding on to the edge of the counter so tightly that my fingers have gone numb. Distractedly I hear the male paramedic talking into the radio, but I can’t seem to grasp the words. The female paramedic puts her arm around me and steers me out of the room and into the hallway.
“Okay, honey, we are going to have to take your…your grandmother?” she queries with a tilt of her head. I nod in acquiescence. “Okay, we have to take your grandmother to the hospital.”
“Why?” I interrupt, my head clouding with too many thoughts to handle.
“There is paperwork and things that need to be done,” the paramedic continues to explain kindly. “Is there someone we can call for you?”
“Um, I need to call my parents. They aren’t in the country at the moment.” Each word seems to take gargantuan effort.
I hear a rattle and turn to see Nonna on a trolley, a sheet covering her like in the movies, as they take her out to the ambulance. “Oh my god. She really is dead, isn’t she?”
“I am afraid so, honey. Can I call anyone to be with you right now?” The paramedic hands me a tissue, and it is only then that I realise that the tears are pouring down my face. I shake my head and attempt a smile but fail miserably. The kindly paramedic squeezes my hand and reiterates the instructions for what needs to be done. Then almost as quickly as they arrived, they are gone.
The silence is deafening. All at once bile rises in my throat, and I have to run for the bathroom before I am sick. I dry-heave for several minutes before I am able to get my emotions under some form of control. Shaking, I make my way to the kitchen to retrieve my phone. It takes several attempts before I am able to dial the number for my parents.
The dial tone grates in the oppressive silence. My father answers with a cheerful “Hello?” and it is all I can do to whisper, “Daddy,” before I break down into tears. Through the sobs, I manage to convey what has happened. As always he is the calm in the middle of the storm, and my breathing slows and I am able to answer his questions. I can tell that my mother is not with him as his focus is totally on me.
“Okay, sweetie. Mum and I will get the next flight back. The flight is only a few hours, so at the latest we will be back in the morning. Will you be okay until then?”
I fight the rising bile down. “I don’t think I can stay here, Dad. I have to go back up to London. Can I meet you there?”
“Of course, honey. Look, here comes your mum. Let me talk to her and I will text you the details of our flight, okay?”
“Thanks, Dad,” I reply, grateful that I am not going to have to deal with this on my own. We sign off, and I am glad it is my dad I spoke to rather than my mum. If I am a mess, I know
she is going to be ten times worse when she hears the news. I make my way to the kitchen and tidy up, making sure everything is up to Nonna’s standards before gathering up my bag. As I look around, all I can see is Nonna lying on the floor, and I know that is not an image I will forget in a hurry.
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I am halfway back to London when the ringing of my phone breaks me out of my reverie. I am surprised to see it is Eddy, so I force a smile into my voice as I answer the phone.
“Abby, thank heavens I got hold of you!” Eddy exclaims. I can hear wailing in the background.
“Look, I am really sorry to ask you this, but is there any chance you could get back into the office today?”
“Sure,” I reply. “What do you need?”
“Shit, sorry about this, Abby. Taylor loved the report, but he has asked for a couple of more figures, and as you can hear in the background, things are not going to plan at my end.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, Eddy continues, “Meg is at her wits’ end, and I can’t leave her to cope with this on her own.”
“Sure, Eddy. I am just on the train and can be in the office in an hour.” I glance at my watch and am startled to realise it is already four o’clock. “Do you want me to call you when I get there and we can have a quick chat about what is required?”
“You are a star, Abby. Talk to you shortly.” I sigh as I lean back in my seat. I am not in the mood to go into the office, but at least it is a distraction so that I don’t have to think about everything that has happened today.
Before I know it, I am walking through security, making inane jokes about living at the office. I grab a coffee from the kitchen and am suddenly assaulted by the memories of yesterday’s kiss. I hurry back to my desk and pick up the phone, dialling Eddy, all the while trying to blot out the emotions that are building up in me. Eddy explains what he needs, and I estimate that it is only a couple of hours’ work. Perfect, I think to myself. Get the work done and then go to bed and forget today ever happened.
Book One: Thirty Days, Book 1 Page 3
