“Really?” Beth was looking at me as if I were totally crazy.
“I’ve lost control of my mouth.”
“You really have. Calm down. No one is getting naked.”
“Okay, so what’s going on?”
“I don’t want you to tell Jake, but I need you to set up the camera for me. I thought I might film myself bake and then put it on the Internet. I’ll film it tomorrow, but I thought you could set up the camera for me and I could leave it there until I’m ready.”
“Oh, that’s easy. I have to say I’m slightly disappointed. I thought my horizons were about to be broadened.”
“By my banging bod? Thanks for that, by the way.” She lifted her shoulder, playfully flirting.
“You’re welcome.” I grinned. There was a knock at the door and Beth went to answer it. I heard Haven chattering away in the hall. She and Beth lived in the same building. I probably should have told Haven when I arrived. I hoped she wasn’t mad I hadn’t.
“Hello, gorgeous. Room for a third?” she asked when she saw me.
I pulled her into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“I feel like you’ve divorced me. I’ve not seen you in weeks.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted Luke to have a chance to come to Sunday dinner, and that didn’t seem likely if I was going, so . . .”
“Well, he’s divorced me too. I’ve not seen him for weeks, either. How come when you two try and avoid each other, I end up missing you both? I wish you’d sort it out. He’s running today, apparently. A fun run.”
“Sounds like an oxymoron. Is he with Fiona?”
“I think so. It’s her running club or something.”
My stomach pinched. It had been raining all day. It was too easy to imagine him soaked to the skin and miserable, then peeling off his wet clothes, revealing his harder than hard body, his toned abs, his thick arms as he pulled me into the shower . . . My thoughts of him were endless, but somehow against all odds, I’d resisted the temptation to call him. He needed time to work out what he wanted. Maybe that was Fiona.
“Anyway,” I said, elongating the word like a six-year-old. “I’m trying to get my funny back.”
“You need wine for that,” Haven said, rummaging in her bright pink Longchamp Le Pliage. “Sorry, Beth. Sober works for you, but not for this one.” She lifted her chin and pulled out a bottle of wine. “It’s already chilled.”
I looked between Beth and Haven. I’d drunk in front of Beth before, but never in her house. “Is this okay with you? I was joking when I asked you about watching me get drunk.”
“Of course. It’s totally fine, although, if you catch me taking a swig, then we’ve got problems.” She winked.
I shook my head. “Haven, no, put it away.”
“She’s joking. Aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.” Beth grinned. “Other people drinking isn’t a problem. It’s my drinking that’s the problem.”
Beth always seemed so wise beyond her years. She’d been through a lot and it showed—not because she looked tired or bitter but because she radiated a confidence that’s only gained through experience.
“Actually, can you just position that camera while you’re still sober?” Beth asked me as Haven found some wineglasses.
I hopped off my stool and went over to the camera.
“Should I ask about the camera?” Haven was frowning. “I mean, whatever you’re into, there’s no judgment here. In fact, I’m planning on filming myself for Jake while he’s in—”
“There are some things you don’t need to share,” Beth said, covering her ears.
“Hmmm, not true,” I replied. “Tell me more.”
“Jake’s going to Chicago in a month. I was thinking of sending him with a gift. I’ll tell you the rest another time.”
Beth rolled her eyes.
This was nice. I’d not felt this comfortable, this at home, for ages.
“Have you spoken to him?” Haven asked. Instantly my comfort shattered.
I shook my head.
“Ash, you know I love you . . .” My heart sank. I was about to get a verbal spanking. “But it’s been weeks, in fact, it’s been months since he split with Emma. When has enough time gone by?”
It was a question I’d asked myself a million times. But it wasn’t about time. It was about experience. If Luke was staying at home, just waiting for me to come round, then there would never be enough time gone. “I don’t know.” I sighed. “I think we’ll both know if it’s right.”
“That’s bullshit,” Beth said.
Haven started to chew the inside of her cheek and fixated on her wine.
“What’s bullshit?” I asked.
“What happens if you just never see him again? The way you’re going, you might just end up avoiding each other until you’re both old and gray. He doesn’t know what you want, and to be honest, neither do I.”
My pulse was hammering in my chest. Had I been an enormous idiot?
“Sorry, I’m a compulsive truth teller. I sometimes forget we’re not related and it’s less acceptable,” Beth said.
“Don’t be sorry for telling me what you think.” I welcomed her opinion. “It boils down to trust. At first, I thought it was all about me not trusting his change of heart. I didn’t want to be the second prize—he couldn’t be bothered to go out and find what he really wanted, so I got him by default. And that’s only half of it. I need to trust myself as well. I need to be willing to risk it all—my family, my friends, my future—everything that’s important to me to give it a shot with Luke.”
Beth took a deep breath. “You need to understand how we’ll support you and love you no matter what. You’re not risking your family or friends. But, if you never take that next step with him, you might be risking your future.”
Her words hit right to my core. Maybe she was right, that I was risking more by not giving us a chance.
Luke
“Would you like white or red?” I asked as our sommelier approached the table.
Fiona shrugged. “I don’t mind. You choose.”
This was new territory for me. Dating, and then having to think about what would make someone I didn’t know very well happy. Emma always drank Shiraz no matter where we were or what we were eating. Haven and Ashleigh would drink pretty much anything, but sauvignon blanc was their favorite white and pinot noir their favorite red. Now I was learning another woman’s preferences. It felt weird.
“We’ll take a bottle of the champagne,” I said to the waiter. I knew she liked fizzy stuff because we’d had it at the bar. “Goes with anything, right?” I asked Fiona as the waiter turned away.
“Sounds good.”
She was smiling so that had to be good.
“You look beautiful,” I said. She’d clearly put some effort into looking good and it suited her. She never wore much makeup to work, and none when we went running, but tonight she looked glamorous, sexy even, but not in a showy way. I’d never seen her brown hair down. It suited her, made her more feminine, as did her pink dress. She looked more like a woman than I’d ever seen before. This really was a date, which was . . . confusing.
“So do you. Handsome, I mean.” Her cheeks flushed. It was sweet.
I smiled. I was aware of every part of my body. It was as if I had to consciously remember to put one foot in front of the other, lift my arm, breathe in and out. I filled my lungs and fisted my hands at my sides. I could do this. There was nothing to be nervous about. Fiona and I spent loads of time together. I liked her; we got on. I’d known her for a long time, but only for a couple of months as anything except colleagues. But tonight shouldn’t be difficult. We had plenty in common and we liked each other.