by Bay, Louise
Faithful
By Louise Bay
Published by Louise Bay 2014
Copyright © 2014 Louise Bay. All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editing services provided by Adrienne Crezo
ISBN - 978-0-9928918-0-0
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
You girls up for a glass or four of wine tonight?
I didn’t need to ask twice. There were advantages to having single girlfriends. We were all set for 7 p.m. at the Chancery Bar.
“Leah, can you pop into my office when you have five minutes?” David was a senior partner. He was a good guy, generally, maybe a bit handsy at work functions, but you couldn’t take that personally—that was life at a City law firm. Compared to most of the partners, he was generally fair. He never threw anything at me or swore at me, and so I was a step ahead of most of my girlfriends who were lawyers. But of course, he didn’t mean when I ‘had five minutes.’ He meant ‘drop what you are doing.’
I grabbed a notebook and headed toward David’s office. “How can I help?”
“Take a seat, Leah.” David was soft-spoken but authoritative. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation last week, about you developing your client relationship skills. Clients like you, Leah. You’re a good listener. You seem to understand their concerns. I want to use that and get you involved when we pitch for new clients. Speak to marketing and let’s get some time in the schedule in the next few days to see what you can contribute.”
I’d been waiting for this opportunity. I’d worked hard for six years at this firm and finally I was getting some recognition. It would mean more work for me, but I could be good at this stuff. If only I could be as successful in my personal life.
7 p.m. came around quickly and I emailed Anna and Fran to say I would be running a bit late. When I arrived, they seemed very excited. Fran got laid on the weekend and Anna was living vicariously.
Fran was gorgeous but couldn’t keep a guy for longer than two weeks. Her relationships seemed to involve her spotting someone she liked, followed by three months of stalking him to find out everything about him—where he liked to hang out, what he did, who his friends were, etc. etc.—followed by a ‘chance’ encounter that ended in a couple of great shags, after which he never called her and she moved on to the next thing.
My best friend Anna had a different approach to men. She would date a guy for three to six months, and when he was besotted with her, she got bored and dumped him.
I was by far the most conservative of the three of us. Charlie and I had been together six years.
“So, what’s your news, Leah?” Anna asked.
“Well, David wants me to get involved in client relationships. Going out to clients on pitches and stuff. I’m so thrilled he asked me. Not many associates get that opportunity.”
“That’s so great! Finally, all that hard work is paying off! I hope it’s not just a chance to spend more time with you though, Leah. He gives me the creeps.”
“Ugh, that’s so gross. He’s old enough be my fath— well, much older brother.” We all laughed so loudly that others at adjoining tables turned to look. “He’s happily married. Oh, and as of Saturday night, I’m engaged.”
“WHAT!” Anna and Fran screamed in unison.
“Yeah, he asked me. Finally.” Saying it aloud made me feel sick.
“Well, you sound excited,” Anna said.
“Hmm, you’re right. I’m not. But I guess that’s just because it’s a bit anticlimactic, right?”
“Er, I guess it could be. I thought you’d been waiting for this for years,” Fran said.
“Well, yes, that’s what we’ve been leading up to for all this time, and the timing is good. I’m established at work and Charlie just made junior partner, and if we want to start a family we need to start sooner rather than later.” Hardly romantic and passionate, but after six years, was that what a relationship was about?
“Let’s change the subject. Fran, tell me about the sex. Was he worth the wait?”
“You have no idea,” she said. “I came five times in two hours. He was unbelievable, despite alarmingly small equipment.” We collapsed into giggles again and ordered another bottle of wine.
On the tube home, I wondered if I would feel differently, more excited, if any of my past boyfriends had just asked me to marry them. Probably not. I was still in touch with my only serious boyfriend before Charlie, and as much as I was still fond of him I knew I didn’t want to be married to him.
Charlie was a good guy—solid. We met when I was interviewing for his firm while I was at law school. I went travelling for a couple of years after Uni, but was finally convinced by my parents that I couldn’t travel forever and that real life had to kick in at some point.
I didn’t get the job with Charlie’s firm, but I did get a Charlie as a boyfriend. After that, life just seemed to take over and had gone by in a bit of a blur. I started my training with the law firm where I did get the job, one of the best in the City. I didn’t not enjoy my job—I was good at it and it paid well. Charlie’s career went from strength to strength.
We worked hard and we played hard. We moved in together after a couple of years together. It made sense, as it meant I didn’t have to pay rent—his flat was a birthday gift from his wealthy parents for his 21st.
Charlie was hopeless at any kind of life admin, so I made sure all the bills were paid. On top of that, both our jobs were very demanding; if we wanted to see each other, living together seemed the best option. It wasn’t particularly romantic, but it worked. We rarely argued and life just rumbled on. Our sex life also just rumbled on. We occasionally had sex during the week but mainly it was restricted to weekends, and then not every weekend. That’s how it was when you’d been together a long time, though.
I expected Charlie to propose soon after we moved in together, but he didn’t, so from time to time I brought up marriage and children and he skillfully changed the subject. That was the next step, wasn’t it? I didn’t understand what he was waiting for. Just after I turned thirty, I gave him an ultimatum: Either we got married or we split up. I had given him six months to decide. I needed something more from him. I felt relieved after I gave him the deadline, but increasingly I was beginning to think that the ‘more’ I needed wasn’t his hand in marriage.
When I got home, I ran a bath. Charlie wasn’t home; he sent a text to say he might have to work through the night. I knew firsthand what the demands were of being a City lawyer.
My skin felt wonderful after my bath, soft and smooth. With Charlie at work so much recently, I had been spending more time at the gym. My skin always improved aft
er regular workouts. I slipped on a silk robe and climbed into bed with my iPad to check my email. Along with the usual sales promotions and news alerts, I had had three LinkedIn invitations. I logged in to my account and accepted them, and then I typed ‘Daniel Armitage’ into the search box.
He was my first high school crush. We were only at the same school together for a couple of years; he moved away and we hadn’t stayed in touch. We were 15 when he left, and my crush always remained unspoken. I suspected he had liked my best friend, so if I said anything I figured it would have only ended in heartache.
Four results came back from my search. Two with photos, two without. Well, he certainly wasn’t either of the Daniels in the photos. Looking at the other two profiles, one was the right age. He had gone to Oxford University the same year as I had gone to Warwick. I had nothing to lose. I sent Daniel Number Two an invitation to connect. I didn’t add anything personal to the message; if it wasn’t the right Daniel, it would be less embarrassing.
I must have fallen asleep shortly after. I woke up when Charlie climbed into bed, reeking of alcohol. It was 3 a.m.
I had an early meeting the next day. We were leading up to a closing on a big transaction, the sale of a well-known high street chain of restaurants. I was up and out before Charlie woke up, and in the office by 7:30 a.m., prepared for the meeting. I wanted to impress David. I dressed carefully and conservatively in a black trouser suit, a nude silk camisole, and killer nude heels. I felt great.
The meeting went until lunchtime, and when we finished the clients seemed happy. Everything was on track. David praised me on my contribution to the meeting and the deal team in general. Work was going well.
When I got back to my desk, I listened to my voicemails while scrolling through the emails that had come through since this morning. My second voicemail was from Charlie, saying he would be working late again. I didn’t hear the end of his voicemail as I was distracted by a LinkedIn notification: Daniel Armitage had accepted my invitation and sent me a message.
Hey, stranger. What have you been up to? D
My heartbeat seemed embarrassingly loud—so loud I got selfconscious and had to go to the bathroom. What was my problem? It was just some email from a high school crush who I hadn’t seen for 15 years. I needed to stop being so dramatic. After returning to my desk, I forwarded the message to my personal email account and went on with my day. I didn’t need any distractions.
I left the office at a decent time. I couldn’t get home quickly enough; I wanted to email Daniel back. I picked up a bottle of wine on the way and, before I changed or even kicked off my heels, I found my iPad.
Hey stranger, yourself. I take it I am talking to the person I went to school with in the late nineties? What have I been up to in the last 15 years? Oh, you know, this and that. Keeping myself busy doing the London lawyer thing. You? L
I changed into my comfy clothes and poured a glass of wine. My email beeped as I was closing the fridge. My heart skipped. Would he reply straight away?
Yes, I believe so—I’ve not had many Leahs in my life. I started a business just after Uni and have been keeping busy doing that since. I’m in the US at the moment meeting a potential business partner. I’m only halfway through my day, but with my jet lag, I might not make it through this next meeting. I’m based in London but seem to spend too much time in New York. Are you home for the day now? What are your evening plans? D
He emailed like we had been in touch all these years. It was so familiar. If I emailed back straight away, would that look desperate? No, I hadn’t replied to him all day.
Yes, I’m home for the evening now. I’m enjoying a glass of wine. Jealous? No particular plans this evening. I may watch a trashy rom-com movie and have an early night. I have an early start tomorrow. Where in London are you based? What’s your business? L
I barely had time to exhale and he’d replied again.
Jealous? Absolutely. Can I join you for a glass remotely? I’ll just have to use my imagination… I have a place in W1. A comedy sounds good. I have a really vivid memory of your laugh. D
It was so cute that he was asking to have a drink with me remotely. Was he flirting? I’d been in a relationship for six years; I had forgotten what flirting looked like. No, I was imagining it. He was always super-confident, sure of himself, particularly with women. Daniel always seemed a couple of years older than the other boys at school. I’m sure any flirting was imagined on my part.
Would you like red or white? I’m having a glass of Rioja. My laugh is memorable? In a good way? I remember your freckles. L
What was I doing? I was engaged!
Rioja sounds perfect. Yes, your laugh was memorable in a good way. Stop fishing for compliments. Particularly if you are going to remind me of my freckles. D
He saw right through me and set me straight. I liked that.
Busted. Sorry, but they were cute freckles. L
I was certain he wouldn’t reply now. He was going into a meeting and the conversation was at a natural close. I poured myself another glass of wine and went to run a bath. I was grinning hopelessly and feeling a bit giggly after the wine. I took my iPad into the bathroom and put on some music. I quickly changed my mind about Jill Scott—too sexy, and I needed to cool down. I got into the warm water and reached for my wine. My email pinged again. Really?
Cute? I don’t hear that adjective a lot when people describe me. Can I get a top-up? D
I bit back my grin.
Now you’re fishing for compliments. I’m in the bath. Can you help yourself? L
Now I was flirting—I couldn’t deny that.
Is it a real or virtual bath? D
No, it’s a real bath. Help yourself to the Rioja, though. L
Wow. I’m meant to be concentrating in this meeting. I don’t like to mix business with pleasure. D
I shivered, my nipples tightened, and I felt a rush of warmth between my legs. What did I say to that? I took a deep breath and tried to keep it light.
So if not cute, how do people describe you? L
God, what if he was bald and fat with bad teeth and three wives? I had an image in my head of some tall, dark, handsome, single man, still confident and sure of himself. I didn’t even know what he did for a living. He could be a cab driver, although I doubt that required international travel and provided him with a place in W1, one of the most desirable postcodes in London. I needed Fran’s help to do some cyberstalking—she was the expert. Who was this guy I was flirting with?
In the absence of Fran, I Googled ‘Daniel Armitage.’ A technology wunderkind I was not, but I could manage Google. Some videos popped up along with some news articles.
No email ping. Had I pushed things too far?
I clicked on one of the videos; it was obviously him. He had the same dark, soulful eyes, but everything else was different. When I had last seen him, he was a tall, dark-haired, lanky, cute boy. The man who was addressing his audience on the video was not that boy. His voice was deep and powerful. He seemed to choose each word carefully. He was tall, at least six feet, and my god he was beautiful. Maybe beautiful wasn’t quite the word, but those familiar dark eyes were hypnotizing, and he had such a presence—the sort that comes with confidence and success. His hair was still the same almost-black color, but it was longer than how he wore it as a teenager, and his skin seemed darker. His suit was expensive. He went without a tie and there was a glimmer of hair poking out at his neck. My crush was back after 15 years. I had to get some clothes on. I felt inappropriate watching the video naked, like he could see me through the screen.
I let the video run as I got out of the bath and wrapped myself in a towel. He was talking to an audience of entrepreneurs about how he started his business. He spoke passionately about his journey, the mistakes he made along the way, and his eventual success.
So what did he do that meant he was giving talks about his successes? Impatiently, I stopped the video, clicked on one of the news items, and wandered over
to the bed. So his title was CEO of Gematria Enterprises. I’d never heard of it. Gematria Enterprises seemed to be a holding company for a number of other businesses that had different names. Hotels, restaurants, medical supplies, technology companies, commercial real estate investments; that was an eclectic mix.
I clicked on one of the other videos. There he was again. My heart rate quickened as he walked onto the stage, this time with his hair shorter and an unmistakable circle of gold on his left ring finger. I slumped back onto the bed. Well, of course he was married. He was young, gorgeous, and successful. And anyway, it wasn’t like I was hoping to date him. I was happily engaged.
Back to the first video. No ring in that video. Maybe he was recently married … or recently divorced?
I’d not had another email, which was probably a good thing. I was with Charlie and shouldn’t be flirting with devastatingly handsome and potentially married men. Move on, Leah, I scolded myself.
At that moment, I heard Charlie’s keys in the door. It was nearly midnight. All at once, I wished I were asleep. I slipped a nightdress on and got under the covers.
“Hi babe,” I called. He replied but didn’t come into the bedroom. I turned off the light.
My email pinged. My iPad was right next to my bed. I should have been thinking about sleep or Charlie but I couldn’t resist quickly checking it.
Get some sleep. D
I had embarrassed myself. I felt stupid. I quickly closed the email and tried to put Daniel out of my head. Eventually I drifted off. I didn’t hear Charlie come to bed.
***
The next morning I resolved not to respond to Daniel, to stop cyberstalking him, and to make more effort with Charlie.
When I got up, Charlie was in the kitchen leaning against the breakfast bar reading the paper and drinking his juice. I came up behind him, put my arms around him, and rested my head on his back. He patted my hands. “Remember, we have dinner with my parents tonight. They are going to freak out when we tell them we are engaged.”
