Actually, there are days where I feel nothing at all, and that scares me even more. I need to feel something for little Evie and I… just… can’t.
I know you lost your good friend—and more now too, for which I’m so very sorry. I know it feels as if there’s a part of your heart that’s gone forever. A part that was truly only theirs and that you’ll never get back.
No. It feels as if someone has punched my heart right out of my body.
I hope you had a good Christmas and birthday, and that Santa brought you something nice even in all that heat. I’m grateful I don’t know where you are because there are some terrible things happening out there, and I’d just be glued to the TV looking for you.
We had a very quiet Christmas with just family. None of us felt like celebrating, although Mum and Chloe tried hard to make it special for Evie’s first Christmas. I took Evie over to Ollie’s mum and dad’s for Boxing Day, but we all sat around trying to smile for the baby’s sake. In the end, I said she was overly excited by all the presents and brought her home. Mostly I just like it when I’m home, surrounded by my familiar things. By Ollie’s.
I didn’t go to the school reunion this year. I couldn’t face all those pitying faces. But I did bump into Sandy Christiansen in the market, and she said she was engaged to a Canadian guy and was moving over there in the summer. I guess she’s probably almost there by now. People keep on living their lives—I must try to start doing that—or at least not envy that they can live theirs when I feel as if mine is over.
I’ll try to write again when I’m in a better headspace.
Jenna x
CHAPTER 6
BY TUESDAY, Chloe was starting to get a little desperate. None of the online men had seemed quite suitable, and she wasn’t just being fussy. There simply wasn’t anyone who ticked the boxes. She was running out of time to vet a date and deem him capable of conversation, nice enough to actually spend an evening with, and suitably house trained.
‘Today’s love matches are mostly a repeat of yesterday’s, with a couple of novelty ones thrown in. Here we have PrinceAlbert. I really hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means,’ she mused to Jenna who was over with Evie for a marathon Jane Austen evening and sleepover. Evie was settled in bed in the spare room, and there was a chilled chardonnay with Chloe’s name on it. She just wanted to get through today’s offerings with a clear head before she consumed alcohol. ‘I’ve messaged a couple, and I’m just waiting to hear back. It’s worse than waiting for blood test results.’
Jenna pushed her sideways to make room on the sofa and peered over her shoulder. ‘Just do some random click-throughs.’ She grabbed the laptop. ‘Come here, let me do it. How about FantasticFreddie?’
‘The one from Essex? I tried him the other day; he didn’t answer. You know, I think you’re enjoying this. Looking, but not touching. Doesn’t it make you just a little bit intrigued to know what you’re missing out on?’
‘Hell no. I’m just vetting for you, that’s all.’ Her sister raised her eyebrows in a warning not to pursue this line of conversation.
Chloe wasn’t biting. ‘You could sign up too. We could have some double dates. Get out a little.’
‘I go out.’ Jenna twisted on the sofa, pulling her feet under her bottom and balancing the laptop on her knees. ‘I go to ballet tots, sing-a-long and story time at the library. I go to nursery and the swing park and the supermarket. Now, back to the task in hand. Let’s find another one quickly, so we can open that wine.’ Jenna scanned the pages. ‘Ugh. MagicMike? They don’t have great imaginations for names, do they? Oh, no. Really. No.’ She clicked again. ‘Oh, my God… no.’
‘What is it?’
Jenna’s mouth formed a very plastic smile as she clicked frantically. ‘Nothing. Next page.’ Whatever image had shocked her was gone and there was FullThrottle in full high-vis gear on a motorbike. Another swipe non-starter.
Chloe leaned over. ‘What is it? Not TheBigCarlhuna again? I thought he’d deleted his profile? When I went in to award his dating stars, he wasn’t there.’
‘No. It was no one—’
‘Let me see.’ Something wasn’t right. Chloe grabbed the laptop, backtracked and squinted at a shabby, blurred photo of a topless guy in a garden. Her stomach felt as if it had dropped like an elevator, about forty-four floors. She gripped the laptop more tightly. ‘Jason?’
Of course it was. She’d taken the damned photo at Kew Gardens years ago. He wasn’t using his real name, but Chloe would have known that cheating smile anywhere. And that body. ‘That’s Jason. Isn’t it? It’s Jason. Isn’t he still with Amy? Vaughn said they were both going to the wedding. What’s he doing on a dating website? Wait a sec… Searching4U. Urgh. His profile name is Searching For You. When he’d already found me, and then found Amy, and lost me. Member since two thousand and thirteen? We were engaged by then. He was on this when we were together. He cheated on me, and he’s doing it all again with Amy.’ She could feel her blood pressure rising. ‘I should tell her.’
‘Not your problem.’ Jenna took the laptop back and clicked off his annoying face. ‘Seriously, honey. Do not get involved. Whatever you say will only look like sour grapes.’
‘No. No, you’re right, it’s none of my business.’ But Chloe had often wondered whether Amy had been the first philandering he’d committed. ‘Why didn’t I see it? Why was I so blind to him? I gave everything to that relationship, committed all my energy to it. All he did was use me as a steppingstone to the next poor victim. Men. Bloody men.’
‘I hope you’re not going to become one of those women who sits around moaning and complaining? Jason is in the past. You’re supposed to be moving on. And at least, if he’s being unfaithful to Amy, it means he’s just a serial non-committer. It isn’t your fault, sweetie.’
Chloe shuddered at the thought of how many women he might have had. ‘Poor Amy.’
So, that was a first, feeling sorry for the woman who ran off with her fiancé.
Her sister nudged her. ‘Look, you’ve got a reply from someone. Someone who isn’t half bad looking. DrewsAmused. He wants to meet. He likes your photo and thinks you might connect.’
‘Please don’t read my messages.’
‘He’s cute. Dark, wavy hair, nice smile.’ Jenna jolted up, took the computer over to Chloe’s desk and started to type. ‘Hi. Yes, I’d love to meet for a coffee. Based near Notting Hill. You?’
‘Oi, what in hell are you doing?’ It was definitely wine o’clock. Without so much as a backwards glance, Chloe opened the chardonnay and poured two large glasses.
Jenna took one and grinned. ‘I’m moving things along. You don’t have a lot of time, right? Conveniently, he’s in Shepherd’s Bush, so you could meet halfway. When’s that wedding?’
‘Saturday.’
‘Drastic measures, then. How about tomorrow? Lunch?’ She typed. ‘No? Coffee? Afternoon? Evening? Five o’clock? Five it is, he says. EAT on Holland Park Avenue? Great, see you there! See? Child’s play.’
‘It is until you want to do it for yourself.’ Chloe shrugged, wondering whether she’d need to take a box for him to stand on or tissues for his tears. Or extra cash in case he complained about the severe prices in this part of town. But she never once contemplated another wax. He’d have to take her as he found her. If he was ever down in that neck of the woods. And that wouldn’t be for some time. She focused back on her sister. ‘Would you like me to set you up on a date, too?’
Jenna looked at her for a long moment. ‘Oh, can you hear Evie? I think she’s crying. I’ll take her some milk, give her a cuddle. She’s probably having a bad dream. Can you get Pride and Prejudice set up? The Keira one.’
Jenna’s get-out plan was always to hide behind her daughter. But time would come when her daughter grew up, left home, and Jenna would be lonely. Lonelier than she was now. She deserved some good times, to share her life, to have someone to adore her, to love her.
I’m fine on my own, Chloe th
ought, but Jenna would enjoy sharing things with someone; she was a nurturer, she was kind, and she deserved someone to be there for her. Whereas, Chloe quite liked the freedom to do what she wanted, when she wanted. If it wasn’t for that wedding, she’d be entirely happy to sit inside and watch Jane Austen forever. She flicked on the TV, grabbed her wine and put the DVD in.
Ah, those days of chivalry and manners, of men being heroic and strong and willing to face whatever challenge befell them. Men who would fight for what they believed in, who were courageous and brave and loyal. She didn’t doubt that there were many men around like that today; they just hadn’t signed up to matchyou.co.uk.
And suddenly, unbidden, an image of Vaughn Brooks popped into her head again. This time, it was the moment when he strode towards her down the aisle in his black morning suit. Yes, there had been embarrassment in his face, but something else in his eyes. Something intense, fresh and raw. Even though he had a reputation of being unreliable and even though he couldn’t have found much in that task appealing, he had done it for his cousin, and for her. And she kept remembering it. And him. And his touch on her skin. And his smell. Everything kept coming back to him.
Chloe had a very bad feeling about this.
With finalising details for the rehearsal coming up on Friday and the wedding on Saturday, Chloe had no time to chat with Drew online, so she was reliant on recognising him from his photo. But when she got to EAT, she couldn’t see anyone who looked remotely like him. However, she’d purposefully arrived five minutes late because she’d read that that was what you were supposed to do. But maybe that plan had backfired; perhaps he’d already left?
One of her favourite haunts in the area, EAT was busy as always; downstairs was a cool coffee bar that had a diverse menu and shelves and shelves of books, with comfy chairs to sit and read in. While upstairs, DRINK, catered for the evening crowd with tapas and music and a great choice of wine. She ordered a ‘cheaper than Covent Garden, Mr Carlhuna, see what you’re missing?’ coffee and grabbed an empty table in a prime position so she could monitor the door. Presently a mature-looking guy walked in, wearing a crumpled suit—no, more than crumpled. He looked as if he were, basically, homeless or embracing an iron-free lifestyle. With wild greying hair, a moderate beer belly, and well into his forties.
He glanced over and smiled. Friendly, too. She gave him a brief smile, then looked around for Drew. Unfortunately, homeless man approached. ‘DaydreamBeliever? Right? Wow—you look just like your photograph.’
‘Er, oh…’ And you so do not, DrewsAmused. Words failed her. He’d lied, big time.
He grinned sheepishly. ‘Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find anyone to look after my dog.’
That would explain the fur on his jacket. And the smell. And God forgive her, call her shallow, but this was not the man she’d been expecting, or indeed, the man she’d seen on matchyou.co.uk.
Conflicted only went halfway to describe her dilemma. Because she wasn’t just about appearances—even though that was really all she’d had to go on—but she just knew from the second she’d set eyes on him that he was not the guy for her. She preferred her men to be around her age and, preferably, in possession of an iron. And a lint roller. A comb needn’t be mandatory but perhaps brought out on special occasions. Like a first date.
The fifteen-minute get-out-of-date-quick text couldn’t come soon enough.
‘I see.’ She looked him up and down. ‘So where is it?’
‘The dog?’ Drew gave her another sheepish grin and pointed to his rucksack. ‘He’s asleep. Don’t say anything; they don’t allow pets in here.’
For a reason! He was breaking a zillion health and safety rules, although he looked as if he didn’t care about anything other than his dog’s happiness. Kind of cute. He was, at least, a man with a heart. ‘You couldn’t just leave him at home?’
By this time, Drew had taken a seat opposite her, but he recoiled in horror. ‘Hell no. We go everywhere together.’
‘That’s very… nice.’ The second of what she imagined would be quite a few alarm bells during this meeting started to ring in her head. He’d used an old photograph—or someone else’s—to con her into thinking he was somebody he wasn’t. And he was a dog devotee, which was fine and she loved them, all waggy tails and sniffing bottoms, but she had a bad feeling dogs would not be permitted at the wedding on Saturday, and that was the name of the game for her. Plus-one hunting. Saving face. Building business.
‘So…’ Still lost for words, she stared at him. Why would anyone lie with a photograph? Surely he must have known she’d be expecting a younger, fitter version? And it wasn’t that she was disappointed—well, okay, she was a little—but actually, he’d outright lied. Surely he was breaking the Trade Descriptions Act? She put on her best polite smile. ‘Drew, see, the truth is, I’m not good at this.’
‘Oh.’ His shoulders sagged a little. ‘First time?’
‘Second, actually.’ And definitely the last, because nothing would ever entice her to do this again. ‘I’m a little out of my depth.’ Drowning, actually.
‘Well, relax. I don’t bite.’ The rucksack started to move, and she could have sworn she heard a growl.
‘That’s good. Does he?’
‘No. But he is very protective of me. We’ve been through a lot together. He was my rescue puppy—and I was his. We met when we both needed someone. We’re both victims of abuse. Him physical, me verbal.’ He smiled, his eyes were kind and sad. And it was okay. He looked okay, although crumpled in a sort of mad professor way. And about fifty years older than her. But still, for some woman he’d be the perfect guy. Just not her. This was hopeless. ‘He’s a softie really. He likes to lick my feet.’
‘Oh.’ She closed her eyes for a moment as she swallowed back the bile in her throat. ‘Look, I’m not sure…’ God, this was hard. ‘Er… I don’t think…’ No wonder Carl and Jason had run off instead of facing her because this was actually too bloody difficult. Even more so because it felt so trivial. Hi, I just met you. You’re not my perfect man, so I’m going. It seemed so callous. At what point, she wondered, had Jason sat opposite her and realised he wanted out of their relationship?
At what point had he swallowed back the bile too? ‘So, tell me, what’s with the profile photograph? You look very different.’
Drew shook his head but laughed. ‘I admit, it’s a few years old. Maybe ten. Or, perhaps fifteen. I mean, look at me, d’you think I’d get many dates if I put a picture up of how I look now?’
‘Actually, I think you’d get a lot more second dates if women knew who they were meeting from the get go.’
‘Believe me, I’ve tried. No one even clicked on me. I used to be all right, eh? I’ve let myself go a bit. Since the divorce. Well, before, really, if I’m honest. I think it was the medication I was on. It made me put on weight. Aww, look he’s trying to see who I’m talking to.’ He reached a hand into his bag and made a soothing noise as the rucksack began to move across the floor. Eventually, one furry ear popped out of the top, then another. Then a nose. And it began to whine. Sweat dripped from Drew’s large forehead. ‘He’s getting restless. It’s always the same; he smells food then he wants some, and he won’t shut up until he gets it. I think we should go before we get chucked out. Do you want to come back to mine? I make a mean spaghetti bolognaise and I have some cider? It’s not that far.’
She could just imagine his place, all fur-flecked furniture and interesting smells. And it probably wouldn’t be very hygienic if his clothes were anything to go by. No way would she go. It wouldn’t be fair to give him any false hope. And geez, now she was sounding like Carlhuna.
She hated that she thought that, and that she judged DrewsAmused. But wasn’t that what this was all about? Judging suitability? It was just a more prolonged and painful version of swiping. It was horrible, and she just didn’t have the guts for it.
The Love Plan fail, part two.
No doubt there were many happy couplings ma
de from internet dating. Hell, some of her previous clients had been deliriously happy and married after they’d met online. It did work, but then so did regular dating, if you found the right guy. The One. For the lucky ones.
But dammit, luck had never been her friend, and she didn’t have the heart or the nerve to keep doing this. Even if that meant she was single forever. Even if it meant she was humiliated at the wedding on Saturday in front of all her old friends and saw pity in every single eye. She didn’t have the energy to meet someone and break up with them in ten minutes. Over and over. Ad nauseum.
What the hell had she been thinking? She definitely didn’t need a man to make her look successful, for God’s sake. She would go to the wedding and hand out a business card to every one there. She would tell them she had some booking slots available and to let anyone thinking of getting hitched know about her services. She would imply things were going well and that she was content with her life and her business. She didn’t need a man for that. She didn’t need a man at all.
Yeah. I am woman. Hear me… er, roar… or, miaow at least.
Her phone beeped. Thank you, Jenna.
‘Sorry, I’ll just get this?’ Chloe read her text and pretended to be horrified—although, a lot of her act was real. Because how had she ended up doing this? Here? With him? She looked up at Drew and smiled weakly. ‘Oh. Look, I’m sorry. There’s been a… thing happening. I need to go.’
But he’d been here before, she knew, as he shook his head. ‘Looks like I’m not the only one being economical with the truth here, then. Who’s that? Your mum? Sister? Best friend? Checking in? Giving you an excuse to make a hasty exit? As if I’m some kind of axe murderer?’
The axe murderer thing again. It was hardly as if she’d ever seen anyone carrying an axe around the streets. Mind you, she’d never seen anyone carrying a dog in a rucksack either.
She nodded, a little shamefaced, flicked the phone onto silent and threw it into her pocket just in case it beeped again and he got even more despondent. ‘My sister, actually. I… just… well, the thing is, I don’t think this is going to work.’ Chloe stood to leave, wondering why she didn’t feel as relieved as she wanted to, then realised that guilt was getting in the way. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to come. I can’t do this. I have to go. Good luck, Drew.’
Something Borrowed Page 7
