Faithful (3 page)

You didn’t answer my question. Dinner? Saturday?

D

I flush
ed. He knew where I worked. I felt like his eyes were on me. He hadn’t just emailed me, he had written to me. This had taken a bit of organization and effort. There was no doubt that he was asking me a question now. I needed to clear my head, so I volunteered to do a coffee run.

I took my phone with me and replied in the ridiculously long queue for lattes. I wondered how many working hours were spent in line for coffee. We could probably end the recession by just closing down Starbucks.

I got your note. I didn’t realize you had asked me a question. I can’t have dinner with you on Saturday, I’m sorry. I have plans. L

It was true, I did have plans, but it wasn’t entirely honest
, either. This was an opportunity to tell him I was engaged, to say that I had plans with my fiancé this Saturday night. But he hadn’t mentioned that he was married, and maybe I had read the situation wrong and he wasn’t interested in me like that. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Ping.

We
will
have dinner now that I’m back in London. Pick a day. D

H
e wasn’t making a request. That decisiveness meant I wasn’t going to say no. OK, so I would meet him for a quick supper, catch up on old times, and drop my engagement into conversation. Yes, that would bring things to a close.

OK
. Tuesday. L

I’ll pick you up outside your office at 7 p.m. I look forward to it. D

***

On Saturday morning, I was sitting at my dressing table getting ready for my girls
’ day out when Charlie came out of the shower.

“You look beautiful, Leah.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said without turning around.

“I mean it. You look beautiful. You are beautiful. I don’t say it enough.”

He was looking at me intensely.

“Thank you.”

He came over to me, swept my hair aside, and kissed my neck and then my shoulder.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy at work the last few weeks. Things have been really intense.”

I reached around his neck and pulled him closer. He turned me around on the stool, took my face in his hands, bent over, and kissed me deeply and passionately.

***

I found Anna and Fran in the shoe department at Harvey Nics.

“I’m so sorry I’m late girls. What did I miss?” I was right on schedule this morning until Charlie’s libido had woken up. My legs still felt a little wobbly.

“No problem, we know Charlie likes his sex on the weekends!” Anna was so cheeky. I smacked her on the arm.

Fran ignored her, fully engrossed in a bright red patent pair of
Louboutins that we were now going to have to spend the rest of the day talking her out of buying.

“Let’s talk about Fran’s sex life instead, hmm?
Have you seen him again?” I asked.

“Nope, I’ve decided to get serious about dating. No more boys. I need a man. At some point, I want to get married and have a family, and it’s not going to happen with the idiots that I’ve spent the last few years chasing. ”

Anna and I exchanged a look. “In the words of the Spice Girls, you ‘want a man not, a boy who thinks he can.’” Anna was singing her quote at the top of her voice, oblivious to the stares she was getting from her fellow shoppers. “So what’s brought on this change of heart?” She got straight to the point, as ever.

“I’m sick of having my heart broken. It’s the same every time
: The guys I’m with don’t see me as marriage material. Hell, they don’t see me as someone they want to take to dinner. I’ve reached my limit.”

“Well, I think we should toast to that. Let’s go and find some champagne and some lunch to go with it,” I suggested.

As we toasted Fran’s new approach to dating, Anna grabbed my wrist and spilled my champagne all over my hand.

“Oh my god, are you trying to be nonchalant about that rock on your hand?”

“This old thing?” Charlie had presented me with my engagement ring in bed after our morning sex. I had thought that we were going to go ring shopping together, but it seemed Charlie had had other ideas. Apparently, the ring was a copy of his mother’s engagement ring. It had taken a bit longer than expected to finish, which is why Charlie hadn’t presented it to me when he proposed. It wasn’t exactly what I would have chosen. It was a bit big and a bit fussy. But you couldn’t deny that it was beautiful.

“Wow, that’s huge
,” Anna screeched.

“You must be pleased
,” Fran said, a bit more subdued.

“It needs resizing
, really, but I wanted you girls to be the first to see it before it went back to the jewelers.”

The rest of the day seemed to be spent with the emphasis on talking rather than shopping
, but I picked up a new skirt for work and Anna bought a beautiful dress for an upcoming wedding she was going to. Fran did much better than us and spent a fortune. In fact, Anna and I spent most of the day gossiping while waiting outside changing rooms and by cash registers for Fran to continue her sartorial reinvention.

While Fran was trying on a jumpsuit in Armani Exchange, Anna brought up the subject of Thursday evening’s conversation.
“So, things seem better between you and Charlie? The sex? The ring?”

“Yeah, he said things had been intense at work and
he apologized. Perhaps it was just the tension around the engagement that was getting to us both. He seems to want to make things better.”

“But do you?”

Anna found the heart of the matter, as usual. I didn’t know what to say.

Anna prompted me. “Sorry, I’m not trying to interfere.”

“No, I know you’re not. I just don’t know how to answer you. All I can say is that I’m not ready to walk away. But I’m not ready to marry him, either.”

I didn’t tell her about dinner with Daniel. I didn’t know if I could go through with it after this morning. It seemed like Charlie really wanted things to work between us
, and I owed him that, didn’t I? I loved him didn’t I?

Charlie initiated sex again on Sunday. Maybe things
between us were really turning a corner. I guess maybe we both were affected by taking such a big step in our relationship after so long and now things would level out. After my gym session on Sunday morning and Charlie’s extended nap, we spent the day doing chores and getting ready for the week ahead. Well, I did. Charlie spent most of the day in the office. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but we were together under one roof and we snuggled up on the sofa to watch TV together on Sunday night.

First thing on Monday, I grabbed Brendan and dragged him into a meeting room so I could
practice my part of the Phoenix presentation that was scheduled with David and another partner on Tuesday. Brendan was doing impressions of David the whole way through and I could barely keep a straight face. My cheeks were aching from trying not to laugh, so much that by the time we’d finished I thought I might be in a state of permanent cramp. I was still nervous, but at least I felt prepared. If I could get through it while Brendan was making me giggle, I felt confident that I could deliver my part as required in front of a normal audience. I really wanted to make a good impression—it was such great experience and I didn’t want it to be a one-off.

Luckily, the presentation kept me distracted from my personal life. I didn’t hear from Daniel over the weekend
, but when I got home on Monday evening it suddenly hit me that we were due to meet the next day. Was it too late to cancel? Did I want to cancel? I really didn’t. I wanted to see him, to see if the man in my head matched the man in the flesh. I wanted to know if he was married. Was I just meeting up with an old school friend, or was I meeting up with someone I was completely attracted to?

On Tuesday morning, Charlie had already left for work when I got out of the shower. I was relieved. I had enough to think about without
analyzing my interactions with my fiancé this morning. I dressed carefully. A black fitted shift dress that finished at the knee with a matching jacket, which would be great for the presentation but could be ditched for dinner tonight. I paired them with my favorite nude killer heels. I decided I would scrape my hair back into a ponytail just before the presentation and then let it down again for dinner. I wanted to look great for dinner without looking like I had made too much of an effort.

I made sure I packed up all my makeup and a change of stockings into my favorite Mulberry handbag and headed to work.

“Wow, you look amazing, babe.” Brendan let out a whistle. I guess I’d failed at not looking like I’d made an effort, but at least people would think it was for the presentation and not for a clandestine after-work dinner.

“Thanks B, wish me luck for this afternoon
,” I replied, trying to reinforce the reason for any change in my normal work appearance.

“You won’t need luck. You’ve worked hard and you’re a natural.”

We had a dress rehearsal that morning and then bundled into a cab to the client’s offices at Canary Wharf at just after 1 p.m.

***

I was high on adrenaline on the cab ride back. It had all gone exceptionally well, and David and George, the other partner giving the presentation, thought we had a great shot at landing the client.

“You did an excellent job, Leah. Have a word with marketing and make sure you get another pitch lined up. We need to make the most of you. I could see they really responded when you spoke.”

“Thank you so much, both of you. It’s really great to have this opportunity.” I wasn’t sure either of them heard me; their heads were buried in their Blackberries.

I checked my personal email for any messages from Daniel
, but there was nothing. Perhaps he’d forgotten.

Because of the rehearsals and preparation
for the presentation, I was really behind with my work, so the rest of the afternoon sped by as I endeavored to catch up. At 6:45 p.m. I closed my programs, logged off, and went to the bathroom to reapply my makeup and calm my increasing nervousness.

Should I
wait downstairs? Would he email me when he arrived? Perhaps he’d just forgotten. I decided to wait at my desk. At 7 p.m. exactly, my office phone rang and I jumped out of my skin.

“Leah, I have a
Mr. Armitage in reception for you.”

Well
, this was it. I went to replace the receiver, but just before I hung up, I heard the receptionist say, “Leah?” I hadn’t responded.

“
Thanks, I’ll be right down.”

As I walked out of the elevator, I saw him ahead of me; his back—his broad back—was turned to me and he was leafing through the firm marketing materials that were set out in reception. As I came through the turnstiles, he turned around and caught me staring. His gaze bore right into me.

I vaguely heard someone on reception wish me good night
, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t take my eyes off the man in front of me. The videos I watched of him didn’t properly show how tall and physically imposing he was. He must be around six-foot-four. He was wearing a luxurious dark navy suit that covered his powerful body. I was semi-aware of people coming in and out of the entrance doors, but somehow our connected gaze blunted my hearing and vision of everything else around me.

As I got nearer to him
, the corners of his mouth turned up and I couldn’t help but smile right back at him. When he was close enough to touch, I stopped and just stared at him. His eyes were still as I remembered, hypnotizing, but there was something behind them now that there wasn’t when he was younger. Strength and power, for sure. But a hint of sadness, also. His jaw was achingly strong; I fought my instinct to reach up and stroke it, to run my finger over his beautiful lips.

“Hey
, stranger,” he whispered without taking his eyes off me. I felt a current of desire go through me and I closed my eyes in a long blink.

“Hey stranger
, yourself,” I whispered back.

We stood there for what seemed like hours, smiling and staring at each other. I lost any concept of time and place. I just wanted to stand there and drink him in; he was intoxicating.

“I have a car waiting outside. Let’s go,” he said. He rested his hand in the small of my back and I felt that current of desire go through me again like an electric charge and I gasped, my lips parted and I looked away, breaking the gaze between us. I was embarrassed that my body gave me away so easily. I looked toward the doors and just nodded and he led me to the car.

I was in trouble.

I slid into the backseat and tried to compose myself as he came around to the opposite side and slid in beside me.

“How was your day?”
he asked. I looked down and away from his intense stare, thinking I might be able to form a sentence if I wasn’t looking into those eyes. But he reached out toward me and tilted my chin back up. “Look at me.”

I took a deep breath and my eyes met his again. My skin was vibrating where he touched me and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to answer.

“It was great actually. Really great. What about yours?” I needed him to do the talking. I needed to concentrate on breathing in and out.

When he spoke, unlike me, he seemed to be able to form a full sentence without any difficulty at all. His eyes never left me
. Even when I looked away, I could feel them on me, exploring me.

“It has been going quite well, but it just got a whole lot better.” The corners of his mouth turned up again and I just sighed and relaxed back in my seat. Good god, I was a mess.

When we arrived at our destination, Daniel’s driver opened my door, and as I got out of the car I turned my head to see where Daniel was. He was right there, and before I knew it, he had taken my hand in his and was leading me between two buildings down an unlit alley. Nervous, I instinctively reached my free hand across to our joined hands. It seemed natural that we were joined like this, even though we had only just met after so long. Daniel increased the pressure in his clasped hand reassuringly. No wedding ring. I was relieved and my stomach clenched—the guilt pushing through. Where was he taking me?

After about 30 feet
,
we came to a heavy black Georgian door on the right hand side that opened as we approached it.

“I wanted to bring you to my favorite place in London
,” he said, leaning into me, his mouth just an inch from my neck, his breath on my skin.

We were met in the entrance hall by a hostess
who should have been gracing the pages of
Vogue
, not showing people to their seats at ... wherever we were. She was tall, lithe, beautiful, and beaming at Daniel. A surge of jealousy coursed through me. Maybe this was his favorite place because of her.

“
Mr. Armitage, so lovely to see you again.”

Daniel didn’t seem to hear her. He was looking at me with that half-grin on his face.

“Can I take your coat?” the goddess next to me asked. I shrugged off my coat and gave it to her. Daniel  grabbed my hand again and I exhaled in relief at his touch as we headed downstairs to what the discrete sign promised was the Coltrane Club.

As we got to our table, I felt completely overwhelmed. Why had I never heard of this phenomenal place? It felt secretive and intimate. The room we were in had a bar at one end and a small stage at the other. The ceiling was tented in deep red silk and down each side; there were about four little booths, made up of oxblood leather semi-circular bench seats with high backs, each with its own little tented ceiling. There were also a smattering of tables in front of the stage
, but we were ensconced in one of the booths. Someone was playing the piano, and there were other instruments on stage, which seemed to suggest there was more to come. Daniel sat almost at a right angle to me. We were no longer holding hands, but the air between us was thick and I realized I wanted—I needed—a part of his body to be touching mine.

When the waiter came over, Daniel ordered for the both of us without any reference to me. We both knew he was entirely in control of this evening. I tried to make conversation.

“So, this is—”

“Intense?”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Yes, intense, that’s exactly what it is. I’m not imagining it, then?”

“No, it’s real.” He reached up and trailed the back of his index finger across my cheekbone.

Our champagne arrived.

“To a wonderful evening.” Daniel raised his glass. I smiled and, mirroring him, I raised my glass.

The band came out on stage and started playing ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin.’ It was a welcome distraction; I was able to focus on something else. I could feel Daniel’s eyes on me and then I felt his hand rest on my thigh. I felt myself moisten and I slumped forward and put my head in my hands. I couldn’t do this; I had to tell him about Charlie. Daniel moved his hand from my thigh and rubbed my back.

“Hey, what’s the matter
? Are you OK?”

This was it—this was my opening. I had to tell him.
“Daniel, I— I need ...”

“Take a deep breath, Leah
. Look at me. What is it?” He continued to rub my back.

“Daniel, I’m in a relationship.”

“I know. You’re engaged.” He hadn’t taken his eyes from mine.

“What? My parents don’t even know I’m engaged! How do you know
, and if you know, what are we doing here?”

“Leah, I want you to take a breath and then have a sip of champagne.” I sat back and I did as I was told.

“Look at me, Leah.” I turned my head. “I don’t have any kind of meeting, business or pleasure, without knowing exactly who I’m meeting. I’m thorough, Leah. I have to be. I don’t like surprises. I require complete transparency in my life. I’ve been caught out before and it will never happen again.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since before I emailed you from JFK.”

Oh, he’d known all along.

“Are you married?” I blurted out.

He smiled. “No, Leah, I’m not married. I was married; we divorced.”

“I’m sorry. When? What happened?”

“I’m happy to tell you everything about my marriage and my divorce, but not now, not tonight. I want tonight to be about us.”

“But Daniel, I’m engaged. You said it yourself.”

“Yes, but as you said, you’ve not even told your parents
... Why is that, Leah?” It was a question I’d been asking myself a lot lately. “And as you also said, this is intense.”

“So, what is this tonight?”

“I have no master plan. Let’s just take a time-out, put everything else out of our heads, and enjoy this evening together. We are, after all, old school friends.” he added and grinned wickedly.

I didn’t respond for a few minutes
.

“
OK, time-out, just for tonight.”

I relaxed a
bit; the intensity was still there but with less discomfort than I felt before. We talked properly and we didn’t stop talking: about the band on stage, about our jobs, the music we liked listening to, what we had been doing since we last saw each other, what we enjoyed about our lives. We both skirted around our romantic relationships—we were on a time-out, after all. We talked and laughed, sat in comfortable silence as we listened to the band play some amazing music. It was like we had known each other our whole lives.

Some hours later
, I dragged my eyes away from Daniel and scanned the room. We were the last ones left. Holy hell, it was past 1 a.m.

“I need to go.”

Daniel’s smile faltered almost imperceptibly and I saw that sadness again in his eyes. He nodded and he asked for the bill.

“I’m sorry; I’m having a lovely time.” I reached over and grabbed his hand and he interlaced his fingers with mine.
The driver was waiting for us when we got into the street.

“I really want to see you home
, but given the circumstances, I’ve asked my driver to take you from here and I’ll get a cab.” I was a bit shocked. I thought we would have the car journey back together.

“Oh, thank you, but I can take a cab
,” I said, trying to cover my disappointment.

“My driver will take you
, Leah. I don’t want you in a cab at this time of night.”

“Thank you
for everything tonight. It’s been a wonderful evening.”

H
e trailed his fingers up my spine and cupped my face, then placed a chaste kiss on my lips that set a fire racing through my body. My legs collapsed a little and I stumbled. Daniel steadied me and helped me into the car without saying another word.

I went to say goodbye and he raised his index finger to his lips
, as if he were willing me not to end the evening. The car pulled away and left him on the sidewalk, staring at the sky.

The tears
came from nowhere. I’d had such an amazing evening, but quite suddenly I felt that something inside me had died. I knew our time-out was over and I couldn’t see him again. I knew that before the evening began, but now the thought scorched through my head and I desperately wanted to pull it out and stop the pain.

I arrived back at the flat exhausted by my sobbing. Daniel’s driver didn’t say a word about my inexplicable tears. He didn’t even glance in his rearview mirror, for which I was very grateful. How would I explain my state to Charlie? Hopefully he would be fast asleep. I crept into the flat, trying to navigate the dark in order to avoid waking him by switching on the lights.

When I reached the bedroom, Charlie wasn’t there. I checked my phone, no message. All I could think was how relieved I was that I wasn’t confronted by his physical presence. I could delay the full extent of my feelings of guilt. Then it occurred to me that maybe something had happened to him. I checked my email and he’d sent me a message that he would be working very late and might not make it home. God, he was working his behind off at the moment, and for what? To provide for our future together. And there it was: The guilt poured over me.

I think I must have drifted off at some point
, although I couldn’t be sure. I certainly didn’t feel rested when the alarm went off. Charlie hadn’t been home all night. I texted him and asked him if he needed me to bring a change of clothes into the office for him. He normally kept a clean shirt there but he’d done a couple of overnighters recently, so I thought he might be have used them up. When I came out of the shower, he’d texted back to say that he was coming home for a shower shortly.

I ran around getting ready as quickly as I could. I wanted to get out of the flat before he arrived, I couldn’t bear to face him. I left him a note saying I would cook dinner for him this evening if he was going to be home. I would begin to make amends.

When I got to my desk, I was confronted by a bouquet of white roses sitting in a vase. Brendan came waltzing over.

“Roses after six years
. He’s either cheating or working too hard—or both!”

I laughed as convincingly as I could. They weren’t from Charlie. I knew that without looking at the card. White roses had always held a bit of fascination for me, something I associated with true love and fairytales since I was a child. But I’d never received them, and it wasn’t a fascination that I’d ever shared with anyone. How did he know? And how had he even gotten flowers to me by 8 a.m.?

Apart from Brendan there weren’t many people in the office, and I reached for the card without fear of anyone sneaking a peek over my shoulder.

Thank you
... for an intense evening.