All I Want Series Boxset, Books 1-3: All I Want for Christmas, All I Want for Valentine's, All I Want for Spring (10 page)

‘Sure, I’d love to. Tomorrow after work?’

But even as I clicked send, I had a tight feeling knotting in my stomach, telling me this was the wrong thing to do. In the distance a red flag was being waved, but I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to see Nicola again. I wanted to hear more words drop from her lips, telling me how much she’d thought about me over the years. I wanted her to say she’d loved me too, just like I’d loved her back then.

Once she said that, I could have closure and move on.

CHAPTER 12

Friday December 9th

The next day, I woke up in a happy mood, despite last night’s disastrous date. I chalked it up to experience and set about grabbing Friday by the scruff of its neck and kissing it into submission. I even managed to get a seat on the Tube, which proves if you think positively, positive things happen for you. At least, that’s what my self-help books told me.

The morning rattled by with a succession of back-to-back meetings with colleagues and clients. I ate lunch in the staffroom and checked my phone, but I hadn’t had a text from Nicola about where and when we were meeting that afternoon. I decided to leave the details up to her, play it cool, not be the chaser. I wasn’t going to get caught up in this, I’d promised Holly and I was serious. But another quick coffee to discuss her bridal outfit choices wouldn’t hurt. Was Nicola going for a full-on white bridal gown or was she going to opt for a stylish suit? Or none of the above?

Sal and I had a final meeting of the day with a new client in Soho. The company were a new start-up business dealing in uber-stylish (read, expensive) kids clothing, and they wanted to boost their internet presence and search engine optimisation (SEO) ranking. In short, they were just the sort of job I loved, because they were always so amazed when what we did worked for them.

People who’ve never had any experience of the digital space often think that marketing and SEO is made-up mumbo-jumbo — right up until the moment when their sales shoot up and they’re left with their jaws hanging open. Sal and I knew exactly what we were doing, we presented well and the clients seemed happy. Now all we had to do was get back to the office, deliver the goods and wait for them to send us the thank you email. It normally happened within a week of the campaign going live.

Sal had to dash straight off from the meeting to pick up her kids, leaving me to walk back to the office through the afternoon hubbub of a festive Friday in Soho. The pavements were already scratched from the previous night and the air was so thick with cold it almost rattled, but my grey woollen scarf was protecting me — it had been a birthday present from Holly last year. Of all the people in my life, Holly was the one who always got my presents right.

I stared in the posh French bakery and marvelled at their cakes and tarts, but I was brought to standstill in the next shop window. A bridal shop, filled with flowing white lacy gowns. And there, standing in the middle of the display was Nicola Sheen, with, I assumed, the shop owner or assistant. Nicola was dressed casually in jeans and a black leather jacket. Her fair hair shone, her face perfectly made-up, and she was wearing biker boots and a thick brown watch. In short, she looked like a dyke dream. Before I knew what I was doing, I knocked on the window.

She turned when she heard and a grin spread across her face as she beckoned me in with her hand, the shop assistant smiling beside her.

I went to go in, then stopped. Was this a good idea, helping to choose the bridal gown of my first love? My brain didn’t take long to answer.

No, it wasn’t. I ran it through a few of my brain filters, and categorically, they all agreed this was a bad idea. But I went in anyway — how could I not when Nicola Sheen was dressed in leather? I knew the rules to this game, but sometimes, rules were made to be broken. 

“Perfect timing!” As I walked through the door, Nicola walked round the woman and enveloped me in a bear hug like we were long-lost friends reuniting for the first time. I caught a waft of her perfume — Calvin Klein? — as well as cigarettes. Did Nicola smoke? I had no idea. In fact, there was so much I didn’t know about her.

“Perfect timing for?” She let me go, but her hand was still hanging loose around my waist.

“Telling me what you think about the dress. You remember I was having trouble?”

I nodded.

She swept her hair out of her face and I caught a glimpse of the 16-year-old I’d been in love with all those years ago. Still the same expression of daring, still the same vulnerability that had drawn me into her all that time ago, and was threatening to do so again.

“So what do you think?”

I shook my head. “About what?”

“Coming and telling me whether or not I look like a meringue in these dresses? I mean, Sophie is brilliant, but I could use someone who knows me.”

I was just about to take issue with how much I really knew her, but Nicola wasn’t waiting for an answer — she was already off down the shop with Sophie in hot pursuit. I followed cautiously, until we got to the dressing room end, a semi-circle with three over-sized changing rooms and comfy pink sofas for guests to sit on. I sat down on one and Nicola went into the middle changing room, before poking her head out of the curtain.

“This first one, I’m not so sure about, so be honest, I don’t mind.”

I nodded. “Honesty, got it.” Even though I was pretty sure that was exactly what no bride
ever
wanted.

The tinkle of the shop door took Sophie away, and then it was just me and Nicola in a sea of white and lace. My life couldn’t get much more surreal if it tried.

While I was waiting in this artificial web of happiness, my phone vibrated in my bag. It was a text from Holly asking if I fancied a Friday night beer. I would definitely be in need of a beer after this escapade, so I texted her straight back to say yes.

When I looked up, Nicola was standing in front of me in an off-the-shoulder fishtail gown, looking every inch the bride. She looked at me for a reaction, but I couldn’t speak. Seeing that much of her skin was having a strange effect on my vocal chords, causing them to knot together and my breath to quicken. I tried again but no sound came out.

“You don’t like it?” She wrinkled her brow, then walked over to the mirror and regarded herself left, then right. “It’s a bit too… Essex d’you think? A bit too bling?”

I shook my head. “No, you look gorgeous. Really. But maybe something more classic would be better?” I hoped this was a safe thing to say. How Nicola looked was beside the point. She was standing in a wedding dress with only me as the audience and this was messing with my head more than I cared to consider. Seeing her in front of me dressed to marry someone else pierced my soul. She’d already cut me open once, and now she was doing it again.

Nicola was oblivious. “You’re right, but I thought I’d try this one — I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.”

My mind was playing images of Nicola walking down the aisle in the dress, but instead of Melanie waiting at the end, it was me. I shook my head and blinked.

“Let me show you the next one — this is my favourite.” Nicola disappeared behind the curtain again and I exhaled loudly.

Sweat was dripping down my back and I’m sure my chest was glowing red under my coat, being battered as it was by my pounding heart.

I could do this.
Breathe
.

Within a minute, Nicola’s head popped out again and she looked around before settling on me. “Where’s Sophie?”

“She had another customer,” I said.

“Right.” Nicola gave me a pained smile. “Would you mind giving me a hand with the zip on this one? Sophie did it last time.”

I returned her smile right back. “Sure, no problem,” I said.

Fuckety fuck.

I left my bag where it was — I figured it was safe in this environment, bridal shops not being known for their smash and grab raids.

But when I got that close to Nicola Sheen’s bare back, I was back in High School, back on my bed. Her honeyed skin was smooth and so inviting. I wanted to bend down and kiss it, trail my tongue up that back, then spin her around and… I closed my eyes to stop my mind creating any more thoughts and it half worked. When I reopened them, Nicola had her head turned and was staring at me.

“You okay?” she asked.

I went to speak but no sound came out again. My mouth was gluey, all sense of time and place woozy.

I nodded.

Her eyes dropped to my lips, then back up to my eyes, then she turned quickly.

A blush crept into my cheeks, then slid down my neck and on to my chest. I cleared my throat and kicked into action, removing my gloves and stuffing them in my coat pockets. Then I stood with my hands poised, and eventually, pulled the two sides of the dress together with my left hand and began tugging the zip up with my right. Of course, the action meant I was now in direct contact with Nicola Sheen, my bare fingers on her naked back, but I was pushing that thought to the back of my mind.

I was helping her into her wedding dress. I was a friend helping out and I was going to do my job right.

It only took a few more seconds, and the dress fitted her perfectly — the waist, the arms, the length, everything. It was an off-the-shoulder number, satin and lace, with an elegant, short train. It was understated but undoubtedly classy, exactly what Nicola wanted. Her strong, elegant shoulders stood firm, and when she posed in front of the changing room mirror, she couldn’t help but break into a grin. She looked absolutely beautiful, and I told her so, standing to her right.

I stared at both our reflections in the mirror and caught her eye. “It’s like it was made for you.”

She fluttered her eyelids before fixing me with a reflected gaze. “I know.” Her eyes teared up and her face clouded with sadness.

I panicked. “Hey,” I said, putting a hand on the top of either shoulder. “No crying.”

She turned slowly, shaking her head and leaned her head on my shoulder, my arm going round her in a painfully awkward embrace. Could she hear my heart thumping in my chest? I hoped not.

“I’m sorry — it just reminds me of before, all the time I’ve wasted. All the time I could have been living the life I should have been leading, instead of being miserable with boyfriends and pretending to be something I’m not.”

I patted her back awkwardly — I got what she was saying, but it still didn’t make the situation any less odd. All I wanted to do was agree with her, tell her that yes, you did make the wrong decision, you did walk away from me and the best thing that could have happened to you. And now you’re standing in a wedding dress marrying someone else? Pick me!

But I didn’t say any of that, although the way my chest was churning, she might have picked up on the body language. Instead, I gently held her at arm’s length and looked her in the eye.

“We’ve all got what-ifs, you know,” I said. “I’ve been out with some really unsuitable women, and my last girlfriend, I broke her heart. So if you think being gay stops you from making bad decisions, you’re wrong.”

She smiled at that.

A tear rolled down her cheek and I wiped it away with my finger.

She followed my finger as I removed it, then fixed me with her almond eyes again.
Those eyes
.

“I walked away from you,” she whispered. “What would have happened if I hadn’t walked away from you?”

My mind was like one of those kaleidoscope toys I used to play with as a child, whirling round and round. I didn’t want to answer because I didn’t know what the answer was. I knew what the make-believe answer was, but…

It happened before I could stop it. At least that’s what I told myself afterwards.

No sooner had those words tumbled from her mouth than she was moving towards me, her mouth now centimetres from mine. She checked my eyes, then my mouth, then pressed her lips to mine.

Her lips were exactly as I remembered them — without a word, they whispered sweet nothings to me. Her kiss was slow, soft and sensual as she caressed my lips with a surety of touch. Nicola’s lips were silky smooth and she was pitch perfect. I was locked into Nicola’s world, and she to mine. I was helpless.

My eyes were closed, my body in a state of frenzy, even though I was standing perfectly still. But Nicola Sheen was kissing me like her life depended on it, so I wasn’t about to stop her in her tracks. This had been my fantasy for years.

Apart from the bit where she’s standing in a wedding dress, about to marry someone else, but life’s never perfect, is it?

I was sinking, but her kiss was keeping me afloat. She tasted of sparkle and promise.

“How you getting on in there?” a voice asked. It was Sophie.

We both jolted and pulled away from each other, Nicola wiping her mouth before straightening herself up in front of the mirror.

“Really good — I really like this one,” she said, not missing a beat. “And I think Victoria likes it too, don’t you?”

I nodded. “Really lovely,” I said, my voice croaky. 

Nicola took another huge breath, then pulled back the curtain and strode out into the shop where Sophie was making positive noises.

“I think this is the one.” Nicola was nodding at herself in the huge mirror while I was still standing in the changing room. I was scared to go out there. Wouldn’t Sophie know, wouldn’t everyone know? Weren’t we lit up with guilt for all to see?

“You look gorgeous, that dress is spot-on,” said another voice. I walked out with as much poise as I could muster, and smiled at the other customer who was now joining in the dress approval ritual.

Nicola twirled in the big changing room, soaking up the attention, not ever catching my eye.

My mouth was still on fire, I could still feel her tongue inside me.

She was playing the part perfectly, which I found disconcerting to say the least. But then, she always was far more theatrical than me, able to style things out.