by A. L. Brooks
Beth shook her head. “I have no idea. It’s…yeah, it’s beyond me.” She sat next to Alex and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “I really think we need to get you out of here as soon as we can. I know you’re in shock and upset, and I don’t mean to push, but the quicker we do this—”
“No, it’s okay,” Alex interrupted. “I agree. I don’t want to stay another minute here.” She shuddered, and pulled away from Beth’s embrace before standing up. “Let’s get this done.”
Chapter 18
Technically February was slightly warmer than January, but as Justine trudged along the street towards Gabrielle’s, she struggled to feel it. The wind that knifed her face had already numbed her nose, and her cheeks were next on its hit list. She heaved open the door to the bar in relief and rushed into its warmth. She looked down the room; her date was precisely where she’d said she’d be, perched on one of the stools at the bar, her red coat thrown across her lap in the pre-agreed signal.
Justine grinned. That arrangement had made her smile when they’d spoken on the phone earlier that week. Rose had seemed so earnest in ensuring that neither of them would be fumbling around trying to identify each other. She’d also been more than happy to meet at Gabrielle’s. Justine was looking for something more casual this time round after the series of expensive—and wholly unenjoyable—dinners she’d endured in the previous few weeks.
Rose was date number eight. Number seven had not been a disaster, but equally nothing about it had set Justine on fire. The feeling had turned out to be mutual, so the parting at the end of the evening had been the easiest one yet, thankfully. She kept praying that something would change, that something would miraculously pull her out of this strange headspace she occupied. She didn’t want to go back to empty one-night stands, even though she did kind of miss sex, not having had any for three months now. She knew on one level she genuinely was ready to look for something more serious. And she knew that might take time. But the way she was going, it could be years…
She shucked off her coat, scarf, and gloves and walked over to the bar.
“Bonsoir, Rose,” she said, pulling out the stool alongside the raven-haired woman.
Rose turned, and a brilliant smile lit up her face. She was lovely—deep brown eyes with extraordinarily long eyelashes, a pert nose, and small plump lips. She looked a little older than Justine, but maybe not as old as Alex.
Stop. You swore there’d be no thoughts of Alex tonight.
“Justine, so nice to meet you,” Rose said, holding out her hand. Justine shook it, smiling the whole time as Rose’s calm manner immediately helped her relax.
Okay. So far, so good.
They grabbed one of the small tables and asked the waitress for menus. As they chatted idly about their journeys to the bar, the weather, and where they each lived, Justine relaxed even further. This was so…easy. Already by far the best date of the year.
“So,” Justine said once they’d ordered, “tell me some more about your work. Sylvie was a little vague on just what it is you do—I mean, I know you’re a surgeon, but in what speciality?”
Rose smiled. “Vascular. Anything to do with the circulation system.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. So that must include heart surgery, yes?”
“Yes, quite often. Most of it is routine, to be honest, but maybe once a week I’ll have to deal with an emergency.”
“I bet that’s tough.”
Rose nodded and smiled. “It is. None of us like to lose a patient. So what do you do?” The change of subject was swift, but Justine respected it. Talking about death at the dinner table was not something she needed to pursue.
Over their starters and through their entrees, Justine and Rose exchanged more information about each other in a way that had Justine smiling from ear-to-ear. It was still easy and relaxed, and Rose was lovely company. While she was highly career-driven, and proud of what she’d achieved at her age—confirmed at forty-two—she had none of that arrogance Michelle had displayed. She was also amusing, well-read, and expressed genuine interest in Justine’s life and career. It was, without a doubt, one of the best evenings out Justine had had in a long time.
As they sipped coffee afterwards, Justine checked in with her libido. While her brain found Rose attractive in so many ways, the physical attraction seemed to be taking longer to manifest. She wasn’t quite sure why. Rose was definitely pleasing to look at, and her curvy body, with full breasts and long legs, should have sent all sorts of delicious signals to Justine’s sexual self. Still, it wasn’t happening, not entirely, although the way the light and shadows played across the cleavage Rose’s shirt revealed was producing a subtle buzz somewhere south of Justine’s abdomen.
Just after ten thirty, they said their goodbyes in the warmth of the bar rather than the chill of the street.
“I had a very lovely time tonight, Justine.” Rose’s smile was wide and warm.
“Me too.” She paused. Should she? Yes, for once she should. Enough was going on here for her to want to see where it could take them. “Can I—”
“Would you—”
They laughed. Rose tilted her head. “Yes,” she said, and Justine grinned.
“I’ll call you later this week, okay?”
Rose nodded. “I look forward to it.” She leaned in and kissed Justine sweetly on the cheek. “À bientôt.”
As she pondered the blank sheet of paper attached to the easel in front of her, Alex couldn’t help but smile. The word metaphor looped through her brain and before she could stop it, her smile converted to a loud giggle.
“Everything okay, Alex?” Eleanor, the art class teacher, looked across the room at her, a confused expression on her face.
Alex got the laugh under control—just. “Fine, Eleanor. Sorry.”
She picked up the soft charcoal from the tray and touched it to the paper. The model before them was a woman in her fifties, with a body that had experienced childbirth three times, and two emergency operations for breast cancer. She was slightly overweight, and scarred and wrinkled. And somehow even more beautiful as a result, in Alex’s opinion. As she’d disrobed, the model had calmly explained to the group of students that for her, the opportunity to do this was a way to reclaim her body for herself. Alex had been touched by the sentiment and wanted to be able to bring some of the woman’s strength and courage to the drawing she was about to start.
She’d started attending the class at the beginning of February. Art had been one of her first loves, and although she’d never quite been good enough to pursue it beyond school, she’d often sketched and painted in her twenties. It was another thing she’d lost, somehow, as she progressed through her career and relationships, and another thing she’d been keen to explore again now she was on her own, forging her new life.
So far, the new life had brought with it a balance and a calmness that both pleased and surprised her. With no one to answer to at home about just how much she worked, she found herself relaxing into her job more than she had done since the promotion. She was doing as much as she wanted each day and revelling in not looking guiltily at the clock after five thirty. Gone were the days of fretting over trying to find the right balance between the demands of her job and the demands of her partner. Her hours hadn’t increased—in fact, they’d slightly decreased—but the stress of them had definitely diminished.
She was still living with Danielle and Beth but actively looking at rental properties. Being mentally ready to do that had taken her longer than she’d anticipated—especially after the trauma of the day she moved the last of her belongings out of the flat she’d owned with Terri—but her friends hadn’t minded that their house guest lingered in her stay.
She’d even been out dancing again, persuading Danielle and Beth to accompany her to a club in Soho two weeks ago to celebrate her forty-seventh birthd
ay. Getting out on the scene again had been daunting, but fun—they’d danced until one in the morning, then cabbed home and eaten a small mountain of toast while dissecting the evening’s adventures.
“I confess,” Danielle said, “I really did not expect to enjoy that as much as I did. Although I still cannot fathom how we used to do that three or four times a week, as I now feel as if I could sleep for a week to recover.”
Alex and Beth laughed. “I know. But I had such a good time. Thank you both for going with me,” Alex said, grasping their hands.
“I’d say ‘any time’,” Beth said, smirking, “but I’d be lying. Maybe once every couple of months.”
“Oh come on, we’re not that old!”
“I am,” Danielle had said solemnly.
Alex swept the charcoal across the page, capturing the curve of the model’s back, down over her hip to her thigh. Interesting shadows played in the folds and creases where the woman’s large thighs met her rotund belly. The March light was weak through the wide windows of the studio, but was complemented by the brightness of the ceiling lights, and Alex loved the effect it had across the woman’s pale skin.
When Eleanor called an end to the class, Alex blinked; she’d been completely unaware of how much time had passed. Drawing had always done this for her, taking her to a place where the only thing she had to focus on was the movement of her hand across the paper and the essence of the image she was attempting to portray.
She stepped back from the easel. Her drawing wasn’t complete, but that was okay. What was there had distinct definition and promise, and that was fine for starters.
“Metaphor,” she whispered to herself.
“Lasagne? Again?” Christina feigned annoyance even as she reached for the serving spoon. Sylvie slapped her hand away and picked up the spoon herself.
“For that, you are last,” she said, smirking as Justine and Rose laughed from the opposite side of the table. “You know it is Justine’s favourite, and as this evening is in honour of her, it was an obvious choice.” She served them all generous helpings that nestled alongside the salads already on their plates.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it through that,” Rose said, her eyes wide as she stared at her heaped plate.
“Not to worry.” Justine nudged her with her shoulder. “I’m here to scoop up any leftovers.”
Rose smiled at her and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her lips. Justine smiled and tried to ignore the little voice in the back of her head that asked why Rose’s kisses still did nothing for her.
They’d been dating for about a month now. Taking it slow, as per Justine’s request, which Rose seemed happy enough to oblige. Intimacy had been limited to kissing and holding each other close, an entirely new ball game for Justine, but one she almost had no choice over. Her body was still way behind her mind in the race to be fully attracted to Rose. And Rose wasn’t in the same league as one of her one-night stands. Now that Justine had got to know her, she had to think of Rose as a real person with real feelings, not just a random hookup. Justine acknowledged, with a more than a little shame, that she’d managed to treat all the women she’d slept with the last eighteen months as somehow…less. She’d conveniently ignored their feelings and their lives and selfishly only focused on hers. Having started the process of moving beyond that with Alex, despite how badly that had ended, being where she was now felt good. Rose was definitely helping Justine more in that progression, whether she knew it or not. Justine had been deliberately vague with Rose on what her personal life had been like these past two years. She didn’t want to see a look of disgust cross Rose’s face if Justine ever confessed all that she’d done.
She couldn’t deny that she and Rose had a wonderful time together. They talked about fascinating and thought-provoking subjects. They laughed. On weekends they shared wonderful walks around parks and museums and cooked for each other. While they hadn’t seen each other much during the working week, due to clashes in schedules, the time they had managed to share had been satisfying in so many ways. And yet… When Justine lay down in bed at night, even if she’d kissed Rose goodnight earlier that evening, any sexual thoughts or fantasies she had did not involve Rose. The kisses they shared were…nice. But nice wasn’t good enough.
“A toast,” Christina said, once Sylvie had finished serving. They all raised their glasses. “To the best damn project manager in the city.”
A chorus of agreement accompanied the chink of glasses as they all drank to Justine. She blushed under their attention but at the same time felt the flush of pride too. They were celebrating her latest success—a key project not only finished two weeks early but nearly twenty thousand dollars under budget. There was talk of a promotion, which was astonishing, given that RCS had only bought out her company a few months ago and normally newly acquired staff took a lot longer to appear on the radar of the parent company.
The takeover had been in November, she mused. When she’d first met Alex…
“Justine?” Rose was staring at her.
“Sorry, I drifted there. What did you say?” She hauled herself back into the conversation and desperately tried to banish the image of Alex’s face from her mind.
Chapter 19
Shit.
Alex hung her head in her hands and closed her eyes. Just when she’d made such good progress. Just when she thought she’d finally convinced herself she was over her.
Life’s twists and turns never ceased to amaze her.
Or piss her off.
The e-mail from her boss had been waiting in her inbox when she’d opened her laptop first thing that morning.
Hi, Alex,
Great news, we’ve got the green light on the upgrade! Something else got cancelled and there’s a project team available from Monday to get us underway. You’ll liaise with the head of the team, Justine North, who’s based in Montreal. She’s relatively new to RCS, but I think that helps us—no preconceived notions of what the system should do. Her analysts are based in Montreal, but she could access some help here if required.
So let’s get on with it. Please set up a meeting with her asap and start the usual feedback loop into our weekly meetings. I’d like to see this go live before the end of August, but let me know what timeframe you think is possible once you’ve spoken to her.
Richard
Alex let out a slow breath.
Justine.
Even seeing her name in the e-mail had sent a shiver of anticipation through Alex. For all her outward declarations to Danielle and Beth that she had moved on from the encounter in Montreal, that the only way was forwards, inwardly she’d cringed at the untruths. She still, inexplicably, craved Justine. Her smile, that twinkle in her eye, her body… And now she had to work with her directly, and somehow find a professional way to manage that. She would need all her emotional resources to pull it off.
Still, she was stronger now. She should be able to do this. Her independence had grown daily since she’d left Terri, and in a fortnight that would go one step further, with a move into a cute rented basement flat a few streets away from Danielle and Beth. A month or so after that, they should complete on the sale of the Wimbledon flat and she’d have a nice big balance in her savings account for whatever the future brought next. And no reason to have anything more to do with Terri, as communication between them was fraught and bitter while the sale of the flat went through. Thank God they’d never got married or had a civil partnership—she couldn’t imagine dealing with that as well.
So much was now moving in the right direction. She just had to make sure her interaction with Justine did the same. They were simply two women who worked for the same company, and for the next four or five months, they’d be working on the same project. They were both highly paid professionals; they could do this. Surely.
Deciding th
ere was no time like the present, and before her thoughts ran away with her and led her to chicken out, she opened a new e-mail.
Hi, Justine,
Richard Campbell has hopefully been in contact with you already. You have been allocated to us as the project manager for the upgrade of the training system. I’d like to get started on that as soon as possible, so I’ll be scheduling a kickoff conference call for the middle of next week. Can you please let me know who on your team should be included in that?
I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
Alex
Well, it was nothing if not professional. Although aloof and cold were two other words that sprang to mind. Justine’s heart had leapt into her mouth when she’d seen Alex’s name in her inbox; contrary to what Alex had written, this Richard Campbell had not been in contact, so suddenly receiving an e-mail from Alex had been quite a shock. She’d opened it excitedly, more than a little alarmed at how much her heart rate increased at the prospect of contact from Alex. Then her stomach had plummeted at the content of the e-mail, and its tone.
Then the implication of the words had actually sunk in.
Oh shit, they had to work together. For a few months.
How the hell was she going to manage that? Despite everything she’d shared with Rose these past few weeks, she knew, deep down, a corner of her soul had Alex’s name imprinted on it. She assumed that was one of the reasons she was still holding back from Rose, and she knew, ultimately, that was grossly unfair to Rose. She’d thought, given enough time, that the Alex corner would diminish until what she had with Rose was big enough to take it over. But she’d been seeing Rose for six weeks now and it wasn’t happening.
