You Again

by Val Tobin

  “Let’s look him up online,” Ellen suggested, pulling her cell phone from her purse.

  Rhonda giggled. “I already did,” she whispered.

  Ellen laughed. “You did? When?”

  “When we went to the bathroom—after we ate the food you ordered. You were in the stall. I had a minute or two to kill, so I checked him out. He’s a partner in his firm.” Her voice held wonder and a small measure of pride. “Had his name in the paper too. He handled some big-name cases.”

  “Well, I guess that bodes well, but you should still be cautious. Serial killers can come from anywhere.”

  Rhonda scowled. “For God’s sake, Ellen, he’s not a serial killer.”

  “No, probably not. You plan to see him again, don’t you?”

  “Yes. He’s a catch. We got along great, and I’m attracted to him. Why wouldn’t I see him again? How do you think people become couples?”

  “Did you verify he’s not married?”

  “He’s not. That was the first thing I checked.”

  “Okay. That’s a good start. Do you know how old he is? How come he’s not married? Is he at least divorced? He seems too old to have never had a serious relationship.”

  “I don’t know everything yet. Don’t worry. I’ll find out. And when we go out, we’ll meet in a public place.” She frowned. “I’ve never married either.”

  “Okay, but let me know when you go out, and give me the details of everywhere you’ll be, and text me when you get home.”

  “No problem.” Rhonda didn’t blink at the commands. Most female friends looked out for one another this way. It was a life-and-death matter.

  They reached Rhonda’s condominium apartment building, and she paid her part of the fare. The women said their goodbyes, and as Rhonda stepped from the car, she said, “Thanks for a wonderful evening. Happy birthday. And Ellen, just because I’m willing to take a chance, it doesn’t mean I’m taking a risk. I can still be cautious. Think about that.”

  ***

  Ellen’s mother, Joanne, greeted Ellen when she stepped into the house through the back door, which provided a separate entrance to her basement apartment. Joanne had the door to the main floor open at the top of the stairs and stood there, hands on hips and frown on face. She wore a fluffy pink housecoat over her pyjamas, giving her plump figure extra padding. Cinched at the waist with a long belt, the ensemble made her resemble a pink Care Bear. Her blonde hair was tied into two long braids and wrapped around her head.

  “You’re so late on a weeknight.”

  “Hi, Mom. It’s ten o’clock.”

  “I don’t want to be a nag, dear, but you have work in the morning.” Joanne’s Scottish accent grew thicker whenever she was upset, worried, tired—in other words, anything but calm and well rested.

  “Then don’t be.” Ellen cursed herself inside for the snarky remark. Her mother could make her behave childishly faster than anyone else alive. “Sorry,” she amended. “Rhonda took me out for birthday drinks. I told you she would this morning when I left.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think you’d be this late. I baked you a birthday cake.”

  Guilt washed over Ellen. “I didn’t know.”

  “I always make you a birthday cake.” Joanne’s sour expression morphed into a pout.

  “Yes, but we don’t always have it on my birthday. We get together for dinner on a Sunday, when Dad’s likely to be home.”

  “When you weren’t living here. Now, I thought we’d celebrate on your birthday.”

  The argument had become tiring, as any argument with her mother tended to do, and Ellen dropped the subject. She didn’t feel like cake at ten o’clock at night, and it would be even later by the time she washed up and put her PJs on, but she didn’t want to disappoint her mother further. Her father was away on business. Perhaps that was why Joanne had anticipated Ellen’s homecoming so much tonight. She was probably just lonely. Ellen vowed to remain pleasant no matter how much her mother goaded her.

  “Sorry I wasn’t home earlier. Let me get changed. I’ll come up and make tea, and we’ll have the cake. Would that suit you?”

  It did.

  After Ellen changed into soft, comfy loungewear, she went upstairs to her mother’s and the two sat at the kitchen table, cups of tea before them, the teapot between them. The cake, two slices missing, sat next to the teapot.

  Her mother had gone all out. She’d baked a mint chocolate layer cake with mint chocolate frosting. Each bite Ellen took settled itself atop the wings and fries in her stomach, but nothing tasted as delectable going down as mint chocolate fudge. She figured this would cost a zillion calories.

  “Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot!” Joanne jumped from her chair and hurried from the kitchen. “Don’t move—I’ll be right back,” she hollered from somewhere in the living room.

  She returned with an envelope in her hand. She beamed a smile at Ellen and handed her the card. “Happy birthday.”

  Ellen groaned inwardly. She’d told her mother not to get her anything. Instead of reminding her, though, she smiled and said, “Thanks so much, Mom.”

  She tore open the envelope and removed the card. Inside it, she found a gift card for a half-day of pampering for two at a nearby spa. She thought of Rhonda but immediately dismissed the idea. How long had it been since she’d spent quality time with her mother? This way, she wouldn’t feel so obligated over accepting the gift since her mother would use it too.

  “Thank you. Let’s go together.”

  Joanne’s face lit up with such delight Ellen felt relief and gratitude at the decision.

  “We’ll set it up for the weekend, okay?” Ellen suggested.

  “Book it for Saturday,” Joanne replied. “In the morning. Your dad and I are having people over for cocktails, and you’ll want to look your best. You have to be there.”

  “Oh, Mother, what have you done?” Ellen’s heart sank. This gathering must be another ploy to find Ellen a husband whether or not she wanted one.

  “Nothing, dear. We’ve invited some friends over—and their kids. Well, kids your age.”

  Ellen shook her head. “Let me guess: most of them have sons my age.”

  “Well, it doesn’t hurt to meet them now, does it?”

  “Not at all. But I’m not interested in sparking up a relationship with anyone, so don’t put your matchmaker hat on.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Joanne smiled, and it was more than a little self-satisfied.

  Chapter Three

  Ellen jolted from bed, her cell phone tinkling the alarm for—Ellen glanced at the time—at least ten minutes, and she’d set it to go off with only minutes to spare. She hurried to the bathroom, which was next to the kitchen, almost tripping over Mister Cuddles, her tabby cat, in her scramble to get there.

  Once out of the bathroom, she flipped on her television to catch the morning traffic report, one eye on the current time. She slowed her pace when she realized she’d gotten through the morning wash-up faster than she’d ever done. Yanking a navy blazer and dress pants from her closet, she dropped them on the bed and hunted out a white turtleneck.

  The bracelet Rhonda had given her sat on the top of her dresser. Should she wear it to work? Would everyone think she was some kind of pagan?

  She considered for a few moments and put it on. Most people would think it was pretty stones and wouldn’t attribute any significance to it. The trinket was beautiful. She wasn’t ashamed of it. Some clients or coworkers might not appreciate Rhonda’s beliefs, but they wouldn’t suspect its new age properties simply by looking at the bracelet.

  As Ellen dressed, she continued to glance at the television. The traffic had finished, and all seemed well on the streets she’d take to work. If she skipped breakfast, she’d catch the usual bus and make it to the subway that would let her out close to work with plenty of time to spare. She’d have enough time to grab a coffee and muffin before that meeting with her boss. From the closet, she took out a pair of high-
heeled beige pumps. No snow on the sidewalks yet, so she could get away with shoes. She checked the time again.

  Time to leave. She slipped on the shoes and moved to turn off the television.

  Something the newscaster said caught her attention. She stopped fiddling with the remote and tuned in.

  “... Duncan Technologies may have saved a floundering company when they closed a deal three weeks ago and purchased Business Reports Inc. Gabriel Duncan, son of Charles Duncan, assumed the role of company president.

  “This latest purchase brings the total to three companies this year, in different parts of the world, with another soon to close in London. All are tech companies that specialize in business development and reporting software. Gabriel Duncan will take over as president for this newest acquisition. Back in Toronto, only a year after spending the previous two years at a branch in London, England, Duncan reportedly plans to expand the new business, which, without this takeover, would’ve likely gone under.

  “In fashion news—”

  Ellen pressed the power button, cutting off the rest. Normally, she’d have been riveted to the screen over the latest news in fashion, but as she’d listened to the announcement about Gabriel, she’d grown nauseated. She needed to shut down the messenger of that horrifying news before she threw up or passed out.

  He’s back in Toronto. If she had asthma, she’d be reaching for an inhaler.

  Based on the news report, he now had more responsibility in his father’s company and had bought the company for which she’d once worked. The news of BRI’s probable demise without Gabriel’s intervention gave her more pause than the news that the man who’d broken her heart was back in the city.

  While she’d worked at BRI, the company had prospered. Gabriel frequented the place as a client because his father’s company hired them for overflow work. If they were in trouble, it perhaps made sense Duncan Technologies would want to buy them out. They likely expected to turn the situation around quickly and would also continue to have access to the developers there.

  Thank God, she’d left when she did. Had she stayed, she’d be forced to either work with Gabriel or leave—an easy decision. She wanted to ensure she’d never see him again—even if the risk of that was already almost nil. Everything about the place reminded her of him and their time together. She’d grieved as if she’d lost a soul mate, which she’d thought he was. Rhonda’s new age beliefs about the existence of soul mates had influenced Ellen more than she’d realized until Gabriel had shattered the delusion when he abandoned her for the sake of his career.

  She picked up her purse, shaking off the thoughts of Gabriel as she had countless times in the last three years. When, oh, when, would she stop reliving the after-effects of that night? The night itself, in her eyes, had been spectacular, and she re-experienced it as she picked up her purse and headed out the door despite her resolve to stop thinking about him.

  She’d been working late on BRI’s taxes—at tax time, she often worked late especially on a Friday night when she wanted to get as much done before the start of the weekend as possible. Gabriel dropped by the office to review some software functionality BRI coders had added to a piece of reporting software they’d created for Duncan Tech. He was still there when she packed it up and left for the day, and when he saw her leaving, he suggested they go for a drink at a nearby bar. She agreed.

  He’d attracted her for months—ever since she’d laid eyes on him the first time he’d walked through their doors. His looks drew her. He had a trim but muscular physique and wore expensive suits that exuded success and class. At six-foot-something, he towered over her five-foot-eight-inches, but the discrepancy was perfect. She could wear heels and still feel normal next to him.

  His pretty-boy face gave him a youthful appearance, and his brown eyes always sparkled, making him seem as if he were not just happy with life but also thrilled with everything he did and everyone he met. Every time he saw her, those eyes lit up and his lush, sculpted lips grinned with pleasure. When they talked, he frequently touched her arm in a gentle but intimate manner. She responded to him in kind.

  Whenever she spotted him, a thrill warmed her, and when his fingers brushed her arm or patted her hand, a spark of electrical attraction jolted through her. On days she didn’t see him, she missed him with an ache she could barely stand. Anytime he visited, he brought coffee and baked goods for the office staff, but he hand-delivered her a cup of coffee and a special treat to her desk. He took her out for lunch once a month, and she enjoyed and savoured those jaunts. They laughed, chatted, and had fun. No one could’ve faulted her for thinking the attraction was mutual.

  That Friday, when he suggested they go to a bar, she could barely contain her excitement. They would finally start seeing each other outside the office; she was certain of it. Drinks would turn into dinner. Dinner would turn into something more. She planned to invite him back to her apartment. At the time, she had a small condo at Dundas and Yonge, overlooking the Eaton Centre. It wasn’t the penthouse, but it was quaint, it was hers, and she was proud of it—proud enough to let an obviously wealthy man with class and taste into it.

  Part one of her plan worked smashingly.

  Gabriel treated her to dinner after they had a couple of drinks, and it was obvious neither wanted the night to end. Over coffee and dessert, ordered more to extend the evening than because they were still hungry, she invited him to her apartment. The invitation in her suggestion was clear: she wanted him to spend the night. He was eager, willing. He said yes despite having to catch a plane to London the next day.

  The moment they stepped over the threshold into her apartment unit, she tossed her purse to the floor, and they crashed together in a heated embrace. The July evening had been hot, but the chill from the air conditioner didn’t dampen the fire flaming their passion.

  She wrapped her legs around his thighs, and he carried her into the bedroom. Neither spoke. Neither had to. He paused long enough to slip on a condom, but the first time they made love, they never removed all their clothes—only what was necessary to get the job done in a frenzy of lust and desire.

  As Ellen relived each thrilling touch on her body, each kiss on her lips, on her skin, she tingled with remembrance and came close to moaning on the bus in which she sat. A flush crept up her face, and she bit her lips. But the erotic mood that had overtaken her didn’t last long. The aftermath, the morning after, came crashing into her mind all too quickly.

  By the time she’d awakened the next morning, he was gone. He’d sent a quick text on his way out: Have to catch that plane. Will call you.

  She’d known of his pending trip to London and why he had to go; Duncan Tech had experienced some problems with their software out there, and they wanted Gabriel to help deal with the customer service fallout. His background in computer engineering would also help. She understood and sympathized with his reasons for slipping out during the night.

  She texted him back as soon as she read his message. When he didn’t respond, she thought perhaps he’d missed it or didn’t find an opportunity to reply and had forgotten about it. Besides, she’d only sent a quick statement about their time together: Had a great time last night. Looking forward to seeing you when you return.

  Sure, she’d hoped for a “me too” or something along those lines, but when she received nothing back, she justified his lack of response. It couldn’t have been something she’d done. She’d felt and observed his desire for her. They’d had a wonderful time together. She wasn’t the only one who’d enjoyed herself.

  So, she texted a follow-up message: When will you be back?

  He sent her an encouraging reply: Two months and we’ll be back together.

  Before the two months expired, Gabriel called her to say his father had fired the president and promoted Gabriel to the position. He suggested she move to London but didn’t suggest they marry when she did, and Ellen considered that the beginning of the end. She couldn’t leave her life, her family, for so
mething so fragile and uncertain. She told him to resign and move back to Toronto. He refused. They split up. The next time she saw him, it was in the gossip rags and the entertainment news in the company of other women.

  Chapter Four

  Her day was already ruined, and it was still only 8:45 in the morning. Ellen barely made it to her desk with enough time to grab a coffee from the kitchen and organize for the meeting with Carol. Still a bit breathless, she carried a tablet with her to the meeting.

  Carol’s assistant told Ellen to go on in. “They’re waiting for you.”

  They? She struggled to keep the surprise off her face and out of her voice as she said thank you to the assistant. Ellen rapped on the door before opening it and striding into the office. And almost collided with Gabriel Duncan, who stood near the door.

  His expression flashed surprise rather than the shock and dismay that registered on Ellen’s face. She instantly took a step back while he sidestepped to the chair he’d been sitting in.

  “Ellen, it’s you.” His soothing baritone voice caressed her. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

  Or you’d have gone somewhere else? Aloud, she said, “For almost three years now.”

  Carol, an athletic redhead who had landed the management position four years before, spoke in a cheerful voice, drawing Ellen’s gaze in her direction. “You two know each other? Excellent. Then no need for introductions.” She stood. “Ellen, Duncan Technologies has acquired a new company.”

  “I heard on the news.” Ellen returned her gaze to Gabriel’s face, focusing on his eyes. She refused to play shy. He had some nerve looking so delectable and together when the very sight of him wiped her brain of coherent thoughts. She’d have to rectify that right now. Anger replaced agony. In a steady voice, she said, “Congratulations. That’s quite a coup.”

  “Thank you.” He waited while she set her tablet on Carol’s desk and settled into the chair beside him before taking his seat. They faced Carol, who sat at her desk once more, and let her take the controls.