I’d never had sex like that in my life, though. Our first kiss had been tentative—we’d sat on the end of his bed, knowing what was coming next. After our second kiss, he’d slowly caressed his thumb over my lips, erotically searing in the mouth touch while I stared into his eyes. After that it’d been a one-way trip into pleasure. He’d covered my body in kisses, he’d slowed me down with his expert fore-play technique, and by the time we got to mainplay I was biting my lower lip to stop myself calling out his name.
I didn’t want this confusion. I didn’t want to be feeling for him. I wanted everything clear-cut, like it always had been. I slipped out of his hold and frantically picked up my clothes. I shoved my legs into my black cotton knickers, pulled them up. Fastened on my black bra. Then my jeans were on and being buttoned up. I was belting them when Nate realized what I was doing and sat up. “Are you going?”
Pulling my top over my head muffled my reply.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch any of that.”
“I said, yes, I’m going. Places to do, people to be.”
“Oh, OK.” He rested on his elbows watching me search for one of my socks. “I had a great time, Kamryn. The whole afternoon, it was amazing. I haven’t talked like that for years.”
“Uh-huh,” I replied, locating my errant sock under his bed, snatching it up and rolling it on my left foot.
“There’s a Sherlock Holmes retrospective down at the National Film Theater,” he said, while I grabbed my jacket and shrugged it on, “I know you like Sherlock, so we could go along? Have dinner and go for a walk along the river afterwards…?” As he talked, I was tying up my shoelaces.
“Kamryn,” he said gravely, as though it’d finally dawned on him what my departure meant. “Will I ever see you again?”
That threw me. I’d expected that this would put an end to it. That he’d think I was a slut because I slept with him on the first date—I’d offered him sex before we’d even kissed, for God’s sake!—and then would tactfully avoid mentioning us making contact again. Which was why I was so upset at enjoying sex with him. I wouldn’t see him again. And that had hurt, more than I expected it to.
“Will I see you again?” he repeated. I revolved slowly to look at the man in the bed. He was delicious: his usually neatly spiked hair, now mussed up, his blue eyes heavily postcoital, his mouth slightly bruised from kissing. Inamorato. I could do this again. In a heartbeat I could. I bit my lower lip for a second, scared. But what if he’s playing me for a fool? I wondered. I couldn’t bear it. Not with him. I remembered his thumb running over my lips, and I thought, He’s worth the risk.
I kissed the palm of my hand, then blew the kiss at him. “We’ll see,” I said, before picking up my bag and leaving.
“That was him, wasn’t it?” Luke said as I flopped down onto the sofa beside him. We’d done our usual tag team of Tegan’s bath (me) and story (Luke) but I’d had to go in after the story to reassure her I would think about buying her the pair of pink trainers we’d seen earlier. I didn’t know how I’d afford them, but I’d find a way. Now Luke and I could talk, and judging not only from what he’d said, but his rigid posture, it wasn’t going to be easy.
“That was Tegan’s father.” He whispered the last two words in case madam, who had pin-sharp hearing, was still awake.
“Yes,” I stated.
“Did you tell him?”
“Call me strange, but I don’t think John Lewis is the place to tell someone they’ve got a daughter, do you?”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Probably.”
“So you’re going to see him again?”
“Yes,” I replied.
He closed his eyes momentarily. “Why?”
“If I’m going to adopt Tegan, I have to get Nate’s permission.”
“His permission?” he repeated, affronted. “Are you joking?”
“I never knew this until after I got all of Adele’s things but his name is on Tegan’s birth certificate. And because I know where he is—that he’s still alive—I need to get his permission. He’s Tegan’s surviving parent so he has to sign away all rights to her. Social services try as much as they can to keep families together. There’s so much emphasis nowadays on belonging, knowing where you come from. And the fact she’s white isn’t going to help my case. So I need as much as possible, in writing, to show that both Tegan’s parents want me to adopt her. It’ll be harder to turn me down that way.”
“Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“Because the last thing I wanted to do was contact Nate. I always knew I could get hold of him through his parents if I wanted but I didn’t want to.”
“You still feel a lot for him,” Luke stated. “That’s why you didn’t want to get in touch with him, you were scared of your feelings.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I replied. “I admit if we were still together we would have been married two years by now so my feelings wouldn’t have changed. But we’re not married, we’re not even together, so my feelings are completely different.”
Luke studied my face, uncertainty billowing in his eyes before he glanced away. I stared at his profile, watched the muscles in his jaw pulsate like a rapidly beating heart. I knew how he felt: jealous. Scared. Unworthy. I used to feel that way about him sometimes when he’d open his wallet to pay for something and I’d spot the picture of Nicole, his gorgeous fiancée, grinning at me; reminding me that he still had feelings for someone else. That while we had great sex and spent a lot of time together, Nicole was Plan A, and I was Plan B. A few weeks ago, I don’t know when exactly, I noticed Nicole had left his wallet. And her specter stopped hanging over our relationship. I’d been able to relax, to concentrate on building a relationship with my boyfriend, to work toward allowing him to penetrate my heart. And I his. Now he was in a similar position, although he was at a greater disadvantage. While I’d been wrestling with a picture and memories, Luke would be grappling with a human presence.
“That doesn’t change us, though,” I said, desperate to reassure him. “I…I love you.”
I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. I cared for him but it was too soon to tell if it was love. I’d learned about love from being with Nate, and I knew it wasn’t this; it wasn’t constant doubt. With Luke there was always disquiet. Should we be together? What would have happened if not for Tegan? Neither of us fooled ourselves, Tegan was our Cupid: without her we’d still be sniping at each other, making everyone around us miserable with our mutual hatred. And if he hadn’t decided to change his type, he wouldn’t have kissed me. I was never sure which came first—his changing of type or him liking me and deciding to change type. I was never brave enough to ask either.
In the grand scheme of things, I felt a lot for Luke. I didn’t look at him and think inamorato, didn’t want to give everything I was to him, but I was fond of him. And, we were here. Together. No matter how we’d got here, we were here, he was a part of my life. A life I could grow to love. I could love him. I just didn’t. I had to say it though—“Needs must when the Devil vomits in your kettle,” as Adele often said.
“I do, you know?” I repeated to his silent face and skeptical eyes, “I love you.”
“That’s good to know,” he said, his whole body finally relaxing. He bent and pressed a kiss on my mouth, pressed another onto my forehead, then pulled me into his arms and settled back against the sofa.
There were lots of things you were supposed to say when someone tells you they love you but “That’s good to know” wasn’t one of them. A chill breezed through me. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I was still Plan B.
chapter 28
I like your orangey dress,” Tegan commented as she jumped on my bed. She bounced as though the springs were in her legs not the mattress—high, but controlled.
“Thank you,” I replied from my place sitting on the edge of the bed. Nerves tumbled around my stomach like a washing machine stuck on a spin cycle, and every so often my hands would break into a tre
mble.
“You look very pretty,” Tegan decided and flapped her arms up and down like a flightless bird trying to take off as she bounced.
“All right, T, enough,” Luke said, coming over to the bed, picking her up and swinging her under one arm.
“Leave Ryn to get ready in peace.”
“I don’t mind,” I told him. Our eyes met, then darted away from each other as though that simple action had burnt us. We’d found it difficult to make prolonged eye contact for the past few days—even in bed we didn’t look at each other too long for fear of betraying our true feelings. Him, his fear; me, my uncertainty.
“Where are you going?” Tegan asked, swinging happily from her position under Luke’s arm.
“I told you already,” I said.
“Tell me again.” She hung her head back until all I could see was the soft, butter-white flesh of her throat. “Please! Tell me again.”
“I’m going to dinner with that man we saw in John Lewis,” I said, aware that every word slashed at Luke’s already fragile ego. Tegan’s head came forward, she was pink in the face. “Are you going to talk about my mummy?” she asked.
“A little bit.”
“Will you tell me what he says?” She scrunched up her nose and mouth as she nodded, willing me to agree that I’d tell her everything.
I wouldn’t be telling her anything—I couldn’t discuss what caused my fiancé and my best friend to sleep together, nor explain that he was her father, nor relay how he reacted to the news that he was a parent.
“If Ryn can tell you, she will,” Luke said. “Does that sound fair?”
“Suppose so,” she replied.
I glowered at Luke, resentful that he’d appointed himself my mouthpiece. He shrugged off my glare by asking,
“Do you want us to drive you into town?”
I shook my head.
“We won’t come in, we’ll just drop you off outside.”
“I’d rather get the train.” That matter was closed as far as I was concerned.
“Where’s he taking you again?”
“I told you, I’m meeting him at the restaurant where you and I had our first disastrous dinner, remember?”
My boyfriend hadn’t said it, but in the past two days he’d been acting as though my arrangement to meet Nate was us rekindling our relationship. He feared I’d leave the flat his girlfriend and return Nate’s fiancée. That was why he wanted to drive me into town—it’d be half an hour of him reminding me of his existence, his relationship with Tegan, what I’d be giving up if I went back to Nate. His question was a test to see if I was thinking of this as a date. I wasn’t. The only makeup I’d applied was a little mascara, my “pretty dress” was the scoop-neck, ankle-length, red and orange silk number that Luke had bought me to replace the dress destroyed by Tegan’s dirty paint water. I’d worn it not because it was flattering—it wasn’t particularly—but because Luke had bought it. I was showing him he would be on my mind because his gift was on my body. I wore heels because the dress would look stupid with trainers. And that was as much of an effort as I’d made—there was nothing else I could do to reassure Luke short of not going. And I was going to do this. I had to see Nate.
“Right, I’d better be off.” I stood and took Tegan from Luke. She clamped her legs around my waist in a viselike grip. She’d had her bath and was in her pajamas so her skin smelled clean and bubblebathy. I carried her out of the bedroom and into the corridor.
“OK, baby, make sure you behave yourself for Luke…On second thought, don’t!” We laughed conspiratorially as I put her down by the kitchen door. “Seriously though, make sure you go to bed on time and that Luke brushes his teeth before bed.”
Tegan giggled her tinkly laugh again. I unhooked my long black coat, buttoned it on, then bent and hugged Tegan. She slipped her arms around my neck and kissed my face. “You smell like sunshine,” she said before releasing me.
“And you smell like chocolate pudding and I need to tickle you!” I laughed as I gently tickled her ribs. This was our thing; our in joke that meant we were close. A unit. She had lots of them with her mum and now we had one, which was a giant step forward in our relationship—we were bonding, moving closer to being mother and daughter.
Tegan squirmed away, ran to Luke and wrapped her arms around his legs. I straightened up and faced Tegan’s unhappy protector. “Thanks for Tegan-sitting, Luke, I really appreciate it.”
He gave a short nod. “Have fun,” he blurted out as my fingers turned the doorknob.
I’m not going out for fun, I wanted to shout at him. The silent worrying had reached my limit now, one more thing and I was going to sleep with Nate just to make a point.
“Have fun,” Tegan echoed.
“Thank you,” I replied and stepped out into the corridor. “Bye.”
“T, go put on a DVD, I’ll see Ryn off.”
Tegan did as she was told and Luke stepped out into the gloomy corridor with me. Neither of us moved to hit the communal light switch as I waited for him to say something. Seconds crawled by and he was silent, simply stared at me. “See ya,” I finally said and turned away.
“Ryn,” he said, took my arm, pulled me back. In the pause that followed he touched a tender kiss on my mouth.
“I love you,” he said as he pulled away. He hadn’t said that before. Not since I’d said it. In fact, I hadn’t expected him to say it. I’d decided that his reply, “That’s good to know,” had made his feelings clear: he didn’t love me and I should get used to it. There’d been no other explanation as far as I could see. Now he’d upended my certainty about his feelings by saying this. By saying those three words. And he’d tainted it. Because no matter what happened next, I would always wonder why he’d said it. If he’d been motivated by genuine feelings or because he was scared I was going to sleep with someone else. Did he love me or did he simply want to control me?
Luke stood still and silent, waiting for my reply and I knew I had to say it back. I had to reconfirm I loved him. I opened my mouth and replied, “That’s good to know.” My answer was a reminder that whatever we both felt, whether we loved each other or not, he wasn’t the only one who could be cruel and withholding of their affections. He wasn’t the only one who had feelings.
He recoiled in surprise and hurt, his fingers slipped away from my arm. And I left without looking back.
chapter 29
Hazy. That’s the best way to describe events following my departure from Adele’s flat after her accidental confession.
I remember stumbling out of the ground-floor flat, dazed, unable to work out what to do or where to go. I recollect making it home and feeling safe because Nate was out drinking with his ex-housemates. I vaguely recall deciding to go to Leeds because I was meant to be going up there in a couple of days anyway for my four-week stint setting up Living Angeles.
I can’t conjure up any memories of packing, but I must have because I took clothes with me. My clearest memory was of the note I scrawled in blue ink on the telephone notepad and left on our kitchen table:
I know what you did.
Five words that would explain everything: why I had to go and why I wasn’t coming back.
I know a taxi took me to Victoria Station, but I don’t remember the two-hundred-mile journey to Leeds, nor convincing the Holiday Inn to let me check in two days early. The next time I came to, I was lying fully clothed on my hotel bed, staring blank-eyed at the television. The phone had rung for a few minutes before I realized what the noise was and reached out to answer it.
“There’s a Mr. Turner to see you, madam,” the receptionist informed me. I had arrived in the dark, but for some reason it was light. A glance at my watch told me it was early afternoon. I had no idea where the last fifteen hours had gone. The world had carried on without my knowledge.
I almost said, “I don’t want to see him,” then thought better of it. Nate’s stubbornness would have him sitting in reception until I did see him. I couldn’t hid
e in my bedroom for the rest of my life. “I’ll be right down,” I mumbled.
When I checked my face in the bathroom mirror, I was shocked at the woman who stared back at me. She was red eyed and patchy skinned from lack of sleep. Her hair was wild and her face was puffy. She looked weary. I dragged a comb through my black hair before I returned to the bedroom and flipped open my silver suitcase, which was lying unpacked on the floor by the bed. I selected a red sweater, pulled it on, and then added a black cardigan as an extra layer of armor.
Nate stood as I approached him in the hotel’s reception. Dark circles ringed his eyes, his hair had been haphazardly spiked up and a five o’clock shadow was progressing across his chin. His clothes were crumpled, probably from the drive. He looked fragile, as though one harsh word would shatter him.
“I called every hotel in Leeds until I found you,” he explained.
“Let’s go into the bar,” I replied, my voice calm and controlled.
We sat in two armchairs opposite each other at the back of the small bar. The lighting was subdued and the air was stale with the odor of a hundred thousand cigarettes.
“Come home,” Nate said the second we had taken our seats. “Come home and we’ll talk and sort this out.”
“There’s nothing to sort out. I know what happened with you and…and…” My voice snagged in my mouth as what I was saying played out in my mind. It was too horrible to name.
“Kam, it’s not what you think,” he said.
“What do I think?” I asked.
“We weren’t having…It was once. Just once.”
“That’s not what I was thinking, Nathaniel,” I hissed.
“What I was thinking is that you cheated on me and it’s over.”
“Come home and we’ll talk properly.”
My Best Friend's Girl Page 23
