Making Love (Destiny Book 1)

by Catherine Winchester

  The look he gave me was sort of prideful and I felt a thousand feet tall.

  “I love that answer. I think I’m going to steal it.”

  I gasped in mock shock. “Thief!”

  We grinned and I turned to my second page. “Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?”

  “Ooh,” he said, contemplating the question, running his hand over his stubble as he thought. I noticed that his fingers were long and elegant. It was kind of sexy, actually.

  “I suppose I’ve always pictured myself getting married and having a family,” he admitted after a moment, and I realised that I had got lost in watching his hand, so I had to look down at the question to remind myself what I had asked.

  “And why haven’t you?” I felt confident enough to ask.

  “Work. Before I was working regularly, I couldn’t support a family even if I had met the right person. Now, well I still don’t feel stable, so I continue to put work ahead of relationships.”

  Wow, that was brutally honest and my answer felt like a cop out beside that.

  “What about you?” he pressed when I hadn’t jumped in.

  “Travel coast to coast in America, in a Winnebago. I haven’t done it because those things are hellishly expensive to hire and it’s the kind of thing you need time to do, a few months at least, so you can savour each new place. I always figured it would be something to do around retirement age.”

  “That sounds like fun,” he agreed with me, gracing me with a warm smile.

  The next few questions were simple.

  ‘What is your most treasured memory?’ His was a phone call from his father, finally accepting his decision to be an actor. Mine was getting my first publishing contract.

  ‘What is your most terrible memory?’ Mine was laying with my dog while she died.

  Will told me about a particularly nasty fight his parents had.

  “I’m so sorry, that must have been awful,” I told him, wishing I felt confident enough to reach out and take his hand.

  “I was away at school for a lot of it.”

  “Sometimes that can be worse, not knowing what’s going on when you aren’t there.”

  “Sometimes it can,” he admitted.

  The questions were getting deeper now, but I noticed that we were looking into each other’s eyes a lot more, and holding our gazes a bit longer, and we both felt free to ask a little more than was on the set list of questions. I was really beginning to empathise with him, and I thought that he was with me too.

  It was definitely a weird experience to feel this sort of connection with someone, especially since we hadn’t even been in this room for thirty minutes yet.

  “If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?” He read out.

  I took a deep breath as I contemplated that.

  “I think I’d take that trip across America, if I could drag my family along too,” I answered. “And I might try getting to know my Dad. Then again, it might just hurt more to be rejected again. And I’d probably try to write an autobiographical graphic novel, so my nieces can still get to know me. What about you?”

  “I don’t know to be honest. I suppose I’d work less, maybe take on one really meaningful project, and spend the rest of my time with my friends and family.”

  “This is depressing,” I noted.

  “Yeah, it really is,” he agreed, and we shared a smile.

  ‘What does friendship mean to you?’ He answered that it meant having someone to share good times with. I said having someone to rely on in bad times too.

  ‘What roles do love and affection play in your life?’ I said it’s what makes life worth living, and that I wished for more of both. He said that love was what made life worth living, and being affectionate was just in his nature.

  Next we had to state five positive characteristics of each other. He said I was intelligent, honest, trustworthy (I had no idea how he could tell but I like to think it’s true), beautiful and caring.

  I said that he seemed very happy and positive, that he was also intelligent, seemed loyal, had a wonderful voice and kind eyes. I also added a 6th point, that is bum was nice and unbelievably, he blushed.

  The last questions of section two were about our childhood and families. How close were we to them? Was our childhood happier than most? How was our relationships with our mothers?

  Will confessed that he wasn’t as close as he would have liked with his sisters. One lived abroad and because he went away to school, he hadn’t seen that much of his younger sister while she was growing up. He admitted that he had hated boarding school when he first went, but he couldn’t deny that it had set him up well for life, even if it had taken him away from his family. He seemed to adore his mother but didn’t live in her pocket, which I think is always a good sign in a man.

  I admitted that my childhood wasn’t great, with a working single mum who lost her temper a lot, neither I nor my sister were that close to her. But we didn’t have an awful childhood, probably above average. I also admitted that while I loved my mother and accepted her, I was never quite so sure that she felt the same about me. She seemed to favour my sister, although she denied it, and while she gave lip service to loving us both a great deal, those sentiments never seemed backed up with actions.

  It was rather a depressing note to end the second set of questions on and Will reached over and took my hand.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I blinked back any tears that threatened to fall and nodded. “I’ve done my therapy, I’ve come to terms with it all, but there’s still some sadness,” I admitted.

  “Come here.”

  The next thing I knew, he was pulling me up from my seat and into a hug, and not for one of those, hands on shoulders hugs, this was a full on, wrapped up in his arms, hug. It felt wonderful, but it did mean that I cried a little on his nice shirt.

  Thank god my mascara was waterproof.

  I was the one who ended the hug and he looked down at me with a tender expression in his eyes.

  “Okay?”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want another drink?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Much more and I’ll be running to the loo for the rest of the day,” I teased.

  “Let’s press on then,” he agreed and we retook our seats.

  Next we each had to make three true ‘we’ statements.

  I began with, “We’re both dark haired-”

  “I’m a natural blonde,” he reminded me.

  “We’re both dark haired right now,” I amended, suddenly wondering why his hair was dyed dark brown, it must be for a film role. “Where was I?” I had to ask.

  “Two more ‘we’ statements.”

  “Right. Well, we both value loyalty, and we both work in creative professions.”

  Will said, “We’re both attractive, we’re both single, and we both want to go for a drink after this?”

  I couldn’t help but blush at the last one, although it was a question, not a statement and my stomach was performing summersaults.

  “Elle?” he asked, and I realised I hadn’t answered him.

  Chapter Two

  All I could offer by way of a reply was to nod ‘yes’, we did both did want that. Could it be possible that this man liked me? Probably not, but it was nice to dream.

  “Complete this sentence,” I began, my voice just a little higher than usual. “I wish I had someone with whom I could share...”

  “That I could share my life with,” he replied with no forethought required, “and who understood the limits of my job and could not just accept them, but accommodate them.”

  “Someone who is always in your corner, cheering you on, even in the rough patches,” I nodded, empathising with his sentiment. It couldn’t be easy being an actor, their jobs just seemed too unpredictable.

  “Yeah.” He seemed surprised that I u
nderstood but pleased. “What about you, what sort of person do you wish you had?”

  “I wish I had someone creative,” I admitted. “I’m the only creative type in my family and they don’t really get what I do, or consider it a proper job.”

  His expression was sympathetic and after what he’d told me about his father not liking his career, I suppose that he did understand how I felt better than most people would.

  “If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know about you.” Will read the next question.

  “Well, you know about my sweet tooth,” I joked, pointing at my cup as proof, but I was really just buying time to consider the question. “I suppose… I suppose they need to know that I can forgive an awful lot, but not betrayal. I hate being lied to. I feel like they’re insulting me, as if they think I’m too dumb to see through their lies. I’d rather know an unpleasant truth than a kind lie. But if they’re straight with me, I’ll always be there if they need me. Always,” I emphasised. “What about you?”

  “I suppose I need friends to understand that I may not be around much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I need friends to be loyal, I can't worry that everything I say is going to end up online or in the tabloids. And I need them to know that when I get a crazy idea in my head, I go full steam ahead, a bit like a child, and sometimes they might need to tell me to back off. That’s okay, I know everyone can't like the same things, but I’d rather they tell me, than avoid me.”

  We shared a smile, then I looked down to the sheet and read the next question.

  “Tell your partner what you like about them and be very honest, say things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.”

  His expression was serious as he reached out and took my hand.

  “I like how often you smile and your sense of humour,” he told me. “I love the way you blush sometimes. I like that you seem to genuinely care about the things I’m telling you, and I think your attitude to life is brilliant.”

  “Thank you.” It was a good thing he liked my blush, because he was seeing it again now. He waited patiently until I was composed enough to give him my list.

  “I love everything about your voice, it’s like chocolate for the ears. I love how you’re always so happy and try to put a positive spin on everything. I often forget to have fun, I’m too worried what people will think, but I love how in the few interviews I’ve seen, you seem up for anything, even childish things. It’s a wonderful quality.”

  His smile was wide and genuine.

  “And you have great teeth,” I added which made him chuckle.

  “Okay, what’s next?” He looked down at the list but didn’t relinquish his hold on my hand. I wondered if he even realised he was still holding it. “Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.”

  “Oh God, do I have to?” I wailed.

  “Yes, it’s the rules,” he insisted with a mock stern expression.

  “Fine,” I huffed playfully. “When I was at uni, I worked in a pub part time. One night this chap had just ordered a meal and came to the bar and asked if we had condoms. Remember, I’m a child of the 80s and the AIDS epidemic, so I thought I was being all cool by not making any faces or anything. Safe sex is good! So I told him there was a machine in the gent’s toilet and he just looked at me like I had a second head. Thinking I was being super cool, I leaned over the bar and sort of whispered, ‘do you need change?’. He just looked at me for a beat and said, ‘no, condiments, salt and pepper’. And of course, Steve overheard and told everyone. Ugh, I just wanted to die.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. It was such a warm and melodic sound that I didn’t even mind that it was at my expense. Besides, that had happened so long ago now that I was able to laugh at myself.

  “Your turn,” I reminded him, eager to even up the playing field once again.

  “Okay, I was making an indie film and to save money, the cast were living in the house we were shooting in. One morning everything just seemed to go wrong, The power went out so my alarm didn’t go off, then the boiler wasn’t working so I had to have a cold shower, which made me slightly irritable, then I needed something from one of my cases, which was at the top of a cupboard in the hall, so I’ve just got a towel around my waist, dripping wet, reaching up to get the case when my towel slips loose and at just that moment, the front door opened and the crew walked in.”

  “Oh no!” I was covering my mouth with my hand, trying my best not to laugh at his embarrassment.

  “Oh yes,” he grinned. “There was a full moon that morning.” He shook his head as he laughed at his own shame.

  “Okay, probably best to move on before the humiliation really sinks in for either of us,” I suggested, looking down at the question list. I didn’t want him to think I was enjoying his mortification, but I did like that he was able to laugh at himself.

  “Good idea,” he agreed, wiping at his eyes.

  “When did you last cry in front of another person and by yourself?” I read out.

  “Oh, I don’t know, actually. I watched Band of Brothers again a few months ago, that was probably the last time I cried. As for crying in front of someone else, probably when I got punched in the face on set. I got hit right on the nose and my eyes just streamed.”

  “That’s not crying.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Nope, sorry, not good enough. Must try harder,” I teased.

  “You sound like one of my school reports,” he joked.

  “Mine too!” I grinned. “I actually think that all teachers are required by law to say that their students must try harder.”

  “I think you may be on to something.” He grinned. “As for crying... Well other than that, I guess the last time I cried in front of someone, was when my last relationship ended.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He sounded so forlorn that I wanted to hug him, as he had hugged me, but I wasn’t brave enough for that, so I settled for taking his hand, rubbing my thumb over the back if it.

  “It’s nothing we haven’t all felt,” he assured me.

  “Was it long ago?” I dared to pry.

  “Early last year. It was my own fault, really; I was away so much with work and the distance just made it impossible, she couldn’t handle it any more.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It happens,” he shrugged it off.

  I felt I’d pried as much as I dared so I gave my answer.

  “Both of my answers are when my dog died. My friend came around to take her to the vet with me, but she’d died in my arms before my friend got there. I’ve cried quite a bit since then too.” My eyes were prickling with tears again. I never cry in public, and here I was about to bawl in front of a virtual stranger again. Only he didn’t feel like a stranger.

  “I’m so sorry, darling.” He squeezed my hand.

  “It happens,” I shrugged. “I just didn’t expect it to happen that soon.”

  “Was she sick?”

  I nodded. “Heart problems, but she was being treated and she was doing fine. Then within the space of about 8 hours, she’d gone from fine to dead, and there was a vet’s visit in there too, and he obviously thought she’d be all right as well, or he wouldn’t have sent her home with me. ”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Then I realised something. “Wait, I’ve already cried in front of you, when we were talking about our families. Okay, so today was the last time I cried in front of anyone.”

  I took my hand back and dug a tissue out of my bag to swipe under my eyes, just in case my make-up was running.

  “Honestly, I don’t usually blubber this much,” I assured him.

  “It’s fine, really.” He consoled me. “Ready to move on?”

  I put my tissue away and nodded for him to continue.

  “Tell your partner something that you like about them already.”

  “I love how empathetic
you are,” I replied without hesitation.

  “And I love how compassionate you are.”

  I smiled then moved on.

  “What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. The holocaust? Rape? Racism? Things like that I suppose. What about you?”

  “I think you can laugh at anything,” I replied. “The trick is, who is the butt of the joke? Holocaust jokes have to make Hitler or the Nazis the butt of the joke, and rape jokes have to make the perpetrators the one laughed at.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “You should hear people like Chris Rock and Eddie Murphy joke about racism, they’ll have you in stitches but they make the prejudice or the prejudiced the target of the humour. It’s the same with rape jokes, it’s really crass and heartless to make a joke at the victim’s expense, but I have heard more than a few funny rape jokes in my time.”

  “I guess I’d never really thought about that,” he admitted.

  “Your turn,” I prompted and he looked down at his sheet.

  “Okay, so if you were to die right now, with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?”

  I tried to think of anything I had to say to anyone. “I guess I’d like to tell my friends and family that I love them one last time, but I think they already know. How about you?”

  “The same, I think.”

  I smiled, liking how in sync we were.

  “So,” I searched the list for the next question. “Your house is burning down and after all your loved ones and pets are safe, you still have time to rescue one item. What would it be and why?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. Not sure there’s anything I’d risk my life for, as long as people were safe. Possessions are just stuff, they can be replaced. What about you?”

  “Photo albums or my Macbook and graphics tablet. Most of my work is backed up on the cloud but it would be a bugger to lose everything. But then again that’s just inconvenience, memories are more precious so probably, I’d save the photo albums.”

  “Okay, so of all the people in your family,” Will read the next question, “whose death would you find most disturbing and why?”