The Inheritance: A feisty, giggle-inducing romance

by Coleman, Angie

  *

  “You’re beautiful, Ashley!” Martin greets me as soon as he sees me walk towards him. He has booked a table in one of the city’s most famous Italian restaurants.

  “Thank you – you look good, too!” I smile, sitting on the chair the waiter has kindly pulled out for me.

  The table is near a beautiful balcony which stretches out across the wall – from there, I can see the city skyline.

  “I wanted to impress you, I’ll admit it.”

  “You definitely have!” Martin smiles, then indicates to the waiter that we’re ready to order.

  “What would you like today?” I haven’t even looked at the menu, but it looks as if Martin has a clear idea of what he would like me to try tonight.

  “Can we have tagliatelle al tartufo and then venison with grilled mushrooms please.”

  “Excellent choice – can I bring you a glass of wine each?”

  “Yes, can we have a glass of Brunello di Montalcino?”

  “Of course, no problem.” The waiter notes everything down and then makes his way between the tables towards the kitchen. I trust chef Goodman’s culinary expertise and I have no doubt that the meal will be delicious – but I kind of wish that I could have chosen my own food.

  “Tell me a bit about yourself, Ashley.”

  “Sure, what would you like to know?”

  “How long have you worked at the Lighthouse?”

  “It’s been more than three years, now. I like my job. What about you? How long have you been writing?”

  “Hmm, probably since I was little, but I only began to write novels when I was at university – you know, it was a pleasant way to distract myself in between exams.”

  “I know what you mean, I think.” I feel nauseous when I think about the horribly long hours spent studying for my university exams. Every single moment spent revising felt like an eternity and yet time was so precious when the deadlines were looming.

  “What did you study at uni?”

  “Economics.”

  “Economics? I would have thought you were more into Arts and Humanities,” he comments, a little perplexed. Yeah, he’s not the only one who thinks that.

  “Well, my plans for after my graduation changed, I took a different path in life and now I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I love books and working for the Lighthouse with Jass has been the best move I ever made.”

  “You sound passionate about it.”

  “I am – it’s a passion that we both share after all.” I flirt without hesitation and I don’t even know why. Maybe I want to convince myself that I could get to like Martin and that I’m not just trying to forget about Jamie.

  “That’s true, but we have a lot more in common that you think.”

  “Really? What else do we have in common then?”

  “We’re both incredibly keen to hop into taxis,” he reminds me and a new light illuminates his eyes.

  “That was only a one-off. I finished work later than expected and I was desperate to get home as soon as possible. If I had decided to take the bus, we would have never met.” I reply, curious to hear what he has to say.

  “Maybe we would have talked anyway at the book presentation. You would have probably loved my charisma and I would have noticed you amongst the crowd. We would have gone out for dinner together.”

  “Do you believe in fate?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he laughs.

  The dinner with Martin turns out to be very pleasant. Conversing with him is fun and he’s definitely an interesting, witty and ironic man – which are all excellent qualities. Despite all this, though, I realise that I’ve been unable to completely forget about Jamie – he’s been on my mind all night. When we’re having dessert, I notice an obvious difference between Martin and Jamie – while they both have beautiful eyes, Jamie has an innate ability to magnetise and charm me like no-one else; when Martin looks at me I can’t help but glance away nervously. Martin’s eyes are cold. Jamie’s eyes are a vortex that suck me inexorably towards him… I would never look away. Jamie’s eyes are warm, they love… they win me over every single time. That’s the problem!

  After dinner, Martin proposes going for a walk, but it’s freezing cold and I decline his invitation.

  “Okay, I’ll see you at the presentation then?” he asks, while he waits for a taxi to arrive.

  “Yes, I’ll see you there.” He stares at me for a moment – my eyes are fixed on the horizon, my thoughts are remembering…

  “I had a lovely night with you.”

  “Yes, it was fun and thank you,” I reply, and smile.

  “Would you like to go out again?” he asks, with unexpected enthusiasm.

  “I…” I pause for a moment, feeling uncertain, even though I enjoyed our date. Everything was pleasant and he’s an interesting man – but I’m worried about leading him on just to disappoint him. I’ve never been someone who hurts people. Then I realise that if I don’t accept his invitation, I’ll have to admit that it’s because of Jamie – and I don’t want to admit anything like that to myself.

  “Maybe after the presentation,” I suggest, trying to sound decisive. He smiles at me and glances at me in a way that suggests our next date won’t be as innocent as this one. I don’t have time to linger on this thought because I’m distracted by the approaching taxi.

  “I’ll see you at the presentation,” he repeats – this time sounding more relieved.

  “Yeah,” I say again, smiling with amusement. He smiles back, then he lets me into the taxi and closes the door for me. When the taxi begins to move and joins the traffic, I can’t help but think that I should have kissed him – more to demonstrate to myself that I don’t like Jamie that much after all. Maybe I just like kissing…

  In the apartment, the lights are still on. It’s 1 a.m. – why are the lights still on? Jamie should be in bed by now. I go into the kitchen, where he’s putting a pan in the dishwasher. It looks like he didn’t hear me come in.

  “Hey,” I call out. His shoulders tremble lightly, but he doesn’t turn round.

  “What are you doing? Isn’t it late to be pottering in the kitchen?” I ask him, unsure what tone to use. I walk round the counter towards him, near the sink. He looks pale and exhausted.

  “Are you alright?” I ask, trying to understanding what he’s thinking. He keeps his eyes focused on the dishwasher, almost as if he doesn’t have the courage to lift them up. He’s clearly not okay… it looks like he’s struggling with something.

  “Who was that man?” he bursts out.

  “What man?”

  “The man you went out with tonight – the guy with brown hair.” he insists. Wait… brown hair? How does Jamie know that Martin has brown hair? I begin to frown with suspicion.

  “Did you follow me?” My question is more of an incredulous exclamation. I can’t believe that he followed me around.

  He drops the pan in the sink nervously and then lifts his dark eyes on me. He’s scary.

  “Yes, I followed you,” he burst out. I don’t fully understand – is he angry because I’m going out with somebody that he doesn’t know? If he’s angry, how should I feel? He can’t follow me around like a stalker! I’m not a kid!

  “You’re forgetting that I’m twenty-seven. I can go out with anybody that I want, I don’t have to ask for your permission at all. How dare you? Why do you even care about who I’m going out with?” I’m furious but I regret saying those words immediately when I see a ghost of pain and conflict in his eyes – he looks genuinely distraught.

  “I care, Ash. I care about who you’re going out with, I care about what you feel and what you think. I just care about you!” He sounds heartfelt, earnest, and I don’t know what to say to him. I remain in silence, staring at him by the sink, unable to look away. I don’t know why, but the anger that swept over me only a moment ago has now dissolved, as though it was never there. I look at Jamie and I am confused – maybe it’s because of what he said, or the way
he said it, or his expression and everything. He looks so tired.

  “I’m going to bed, I’m tired,” his tone is flat now. I instinctively put a hand on his wrist – it’s obvious that there’s something wrong with him.

  “You’re feverish!” I wonder how long he was waiting outside the restaurant in the cold for me. I didn’t realise that he cared so much about me that he got sick… this revelation warms my heart in a way that I wouldn’t have thought possible. I never thought that Jamie would do anything like that for me, and even though it’s not something I like, I somehow feel flattered. The feeling that I am special to him, that feeling I’ve been trying to forget ever since we kissed, overwhelms me once again. It’s such a good feeling that I can’t think of anything else but Jamie.

  “You’re sick, Jamie – go to sleep now,” I say.

  We walk to his room together and I sit on the edge of his bed while he slides under the blankets.

  “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  “Where’s your thermometer?” Jamie turns on one side and pulls up his blanket to cover his head.

  “Okay, I’ll find it for you.” I sigh patiently and then I stand up. From here, Jamie looks like the cutest man in the world, despite his masculinity.

  “It’s in the bathroom – in the cabinet,” he mutters. I smile and go to find it. I return to his bed and sit down next to him again. I lean over to put the sensor on his forehead until the beeping tells me that I can check his temperature.

  I would have expected him to take the thermometer from my hand, but he remains still with an unusual expression while I check the indicator.

  “110 degrees!” I exclaim.

  “Did you kiss him?” He asks, unconcerned about the fact that he will probably have to take time off work. I raise my eyes – he keeps his fixed on mine.

  “Did you stalk me tonight?” I try to ease the tension that I suddenly feel between us. Why do I let an innocent question like that make me feel so bad? I know that he shouldn’t have followed me and yet I still feel bad.

  “You didn’t answer me – did you kiss him?” His expression is incredibly serious, almost like his whole life depended on my answer.

  “No, I didn’t kiss him. Happy now? Can we think about you now?” I try to hide my embarrassment and the unusually happy feeling that comes over me when I see he’s relieved. He finally looks away and sighs, he closes his eyes and leans his head against the pillow.

  “Yes,” he says finally.

  “Very well. Did you eat anything tonight?”

  “No, I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m not asking if you’re hungry. Stay in bed. I’ll go and cook something for you.”

  I don’t give him time to protest – I dash out of his room and rush downstairs. While I begin to warm some soup, I can’t help but think that Jamie seems jealous and I can’t accept this – this would mean that there is more than just physical attraction between us. I wipe this thought from my mind, I’m worried about investigating my emotions any further. Admitting to myself that I have fallen in love with Jamie would make my attempts to hate him futile – and I don’t want to abandon this mission. It would mean having to get rid of my armour which has protected me from disillusion and disappointment. It would be self-destructing. Dad has passed away and I can’t blame him for anything else going wrong in my life, not even the fact that I didn’t inherit Morgan & Hall. Jamie is the only one to blame! Then why is it getting more and more difficult to hate him as time goes by? Elly’s view of the matter is becoming more plausible now, and yet I can’t see my situation from a more rational perspective. I’m still afraid of getting hurt.

  I pour the soup into a bowl and then place it on a tray – I can’t dwell on whatever is happening in my heart right now, Jamie needs me.

  “There you go,” I say as I enter his room.

  Unfortunately, Jamie has fallen asleep. I put the tray on his bedside cabinet and I sit on the edge of his bed for a moment, looking at him. Seeing him asleep gives me a soothing, pleasant feeling. His expression is calm – it bears no resemblance to the tense frown of earlier. Okay, I’ll have to accept the idea that I warmed the soup for nothing. I tuck his blanket in and pick up the tray again, leaving just a glass of water on the cabinet. As I leave his room, I can’t help but think that I like taking care of him, after all. I would rather not think too much about the implications of this, however, if I intend to remain sane.

  15

  The insistent beeping of my mobile phone wakes with a start ten minutes before my alarm is due to go off.

  “Hello?” I mutter sleepily.

  “Tell me!” Elly’s loud voice feels like a hammer hitting my head.

  “What the…”

  “I can’t wait any longer – I want to know everything! Tell me all about it, I want to know all the details. You know you owe it to me!”

  “Elly, what are you on about?” I complain, reluctantly getting out of bed.

  “Your date with Martin – what else?” Of course, what else.

  “Elly, let me brush my teeth at least. I’ll tell you everything – including the details – when I see you at work, but not on the phone.”

  “Ah,” she says with disappointment. “Okay, that’s fine. I just wanted to know something… and then I’ll let you sleep again?”

  “What now?”

  “Did you kiss him?” There you go, I should have expected it.

  “Why is everyone interested in kisses?” I ask with irritation.

  “Everyone? Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. No, we didn’t kiss.” I confess.

  “Yeah, I could have guessed… did you want to, though?” she repeats, with curiosity. Why does she assume that I wouldn’t have kissed him?

  “Well, I thought about it…” I admit.

  “Ashley, just tell me straight – I don’t want to know if you thought about kissing him, it’s obvious that you did. Who wouldn’t? Did you want to kiss him?”

  “I’m not sure I understand your question…” I say, perplexed. Maybe I’m still half asleep, or Elly is way too enigmatic for this conversation at 7 a.m.

  “I’m asking if you ached to kiss him. You know, like you kissed Jamie. Did you feel the urge to kiss…”

  “Okay, okay. No – no longings.” I interrupt her. Answering her questions seems to be the only way to end this embarrassing exchange politely.

  “Right, okay. That’s all. My theory holds true!” she announces happily.

  “When are you going to tell me about your theory?”

  “As soon as you get to the end of the experiment, my dear. Not a minute before,” she says happily. What on earth is she thinking? I’ll have to find out soon and I’m concerned about what she’s going to say. Elly is the most unpredictable woman that I’ve ever been friends with.

  “Listen, I need a favour.” I attempt to change topic. I’d rather focus on something that I can understand and control.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you do some of my jobs this morning at work? I’m probably going to be there in the afternoon…”

  “Why? I hope you didn’t get drunk again last night?”

  “Of course not, Elly!” I reply, a little disappointed by my friend’s insinuation.

  “Then what?”

  “I just want to make sure that Jamie is okay. He was feverish last night – I found him working in the kitchen when I got back. I want to be with him this morning, I can’t leave him on his own like this.”

  “Oh, right. In that case, I can do some of your work all day, you don’t need to come in at all. Take care of him, darling.” Elly stresses the last word, showing that she’s already overthinking what I said.

  “Thanks – I think I’ll be fine with just the morning off,” I reply briskly, hanging up.

  I place my mobile back on the bedside cabinet and then I look at my alarm. It’s 6:55 a.m., I’ll cancel it before it goes off. I need to get up and check how Jamie is doing anyway. I don’
t think he’ll be able to go to work, but I hope that he’s not feverish any more. He was a wreck last night – a beautiful wreck though, despite everything.

  There is no sound from his room and the whole apartment is still dark. I open the door of his room slowly and creep inside. Jamie is still asleep. I lay the back of my hand on his forehead, which feels a little warm. It doesn’t feel feverish. I take the thermometer from the bedside cabinet, move his fringe away from his forehead and put the thermometer on his temple. A few seconds later, the beeping sound starts. Damn! I had forgotten it did that! I move it away from his ear quickly, but soon realise that it’s too late. He has opened his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. It’s this thing’s fault. You can go back to sleep, it’s early.” I talk while I glance at the thermometer screen. He’s still a little feverish but not as bad as yesterday. Before I leave, he stretches out and grabs my arm.

  “What?” I ask, confused. My heart begins to beat faster. He looks at me in silence for a few seconds, then he lets go.

  “What time is it?” he asks, sitting up in bed. He sports his usual early morning sleepy expression.

  “It’s seven.”

  “Why are you awake already?” he smiles at me knowingly, he’s incredibly attractive when he does that. Okay, I’m falling for him again.

  “It’s not for you, if that’s what you’re assuming,” I say defensively.

  “Do you reckon?”

  “Yeah, you’re not the centre of my thoughts.” Or rather, you shouldn’t be, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to avoid thinking about you. I’ll never tell him this, though.

  “Too bad,” he says despondently, “I dreamt about you last night.” he adds.

  “Oh please, Jamie! Why won’t you stop lying to me? The fever isn’t doing you any good.”

  “I dreamt that we were watching TV – we were very close to each other and you smiled at me.”

  “Okay. The TV is mine and these things can only happen in your dreams.” I’m thankful that it’s still dark in Jamie’s room – I’m probably blushing really badly. “Go back to sleep now.” I walk out before he can grab my arm again. His touch doesn’t do me any good.