Calling Me Away (8 page)

“Do you have a time period in mind for him to live his life? A week, a month, a year?” Haven seemed impatient.

I didn’t have an answer for her. I needed to be able to trust Luke’s feelings for me, and part of me wondered if that would ever be possible. I’d loved him my entire life. Perhaps I was asking something from him that he could never provide.

Maybe we were already over.

Ashleigh

It was starting to rain, but I still couldn’t bring myself to hit the buzzer to get inside. Luke had dropped me a text during the week with his address, telling me to arrive at his new place for Sunday dinner at six. I was nervous to see him again, particularly as the last time we’d been alone, I’d told him I missed him and he’d rightly called me a head fuck.

The housewarming gift I’d decided on seemed to grow heavier with every second I carried it. Thinking of the right gift for Luke had kept me busy for the entire week. I wasn’t sure if I should go practical or meaningful. I’d decided on the latter and purchased a magnolia tree for his balcony. I’d mentioned to Richard when I’d seen him on Friday that I was buying a tree and he, very graciously, had given me a ride and then hauled it up my three-story walk-up. I hadn’t realized until now how heavy it was.

For me the present was symbolic, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Luke. I wondered if he’d notice what it was, understand the symbolism. The tree itself was small, just a couple of feet high. The problem with my thoughtful gift was that it wasn’t in bloom and wouldn’t be until the spring. So I was basically turning up with a bunch of sticks poking out of some soil, and attached to them a label of how it would hopefully look. A promise of an almost impossible transformation, and a symbol of my favorite childhood memories. Memories of summers spent under a magnolia tree where I’d fallen in love with Luke.

As I was procrastinating, a young couple let themselves into the building and held the door for me.

I’m going in.

I declined their offer of help and they peeled off around the corner as I headed to the lifts. I quickly found the right flat number and dumped the pot where the welcome mat should be. I examined my hands—dirty and red from the indentation of the rim. I slid one palm over another, smoothing off the loose clumps of soil. The door opened. Luke stood over me, one eyebrow raised in a question.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I . . .” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the phone. It was ten after six. I wasn’t early. I mentally ran through the days of the week. It was definitely Sunday. I tucked my hair behind my ears, trying to displace the heat in my cheeks. Had I misunderstood? “You invited me.”

“I mean, why are you standing outside my door? Why didn’t you knock or buzz downstairs?”

I exhaled in relief. “Oh, I came in with some other people, and I was about to ring you.” I gestured to the tree. “Your gift.”

He grinned and stepped back to examine it. “Thanks.”

“I thought it might brighten up your balcony.”

“Great. Thanks.” He bent and scooped up the pot as if it were groceries. I followed him as he turned and headed into the flat. His muscles tightened then loosened under his T-shirt. I stared at his back and tried to focus on something else, but kept ending up focused on his ass. Shit, I was five seconds into my visit and I’d lost control already.

Luke

I’d heard rustling at the front door and when I’d gone to investigate, I’d found Ashleigh bent over a plant pot. She seemed jumpy. I knew I was. Last week she’d told me she missed me. It had messed with my head and fucked me off. It felt like a game where she played Estella to my Pip. Training cleared my head. I’d run every day this week. The burning in my muscles helped dissipate my near-permanent hard-on I had when I thought of her. It dissolved the conspiracy theories I’d created about how Ashleigh had morphed from my best friend and lover into some sociopathic vixen. Her being so close soothed me—she was still my best friend and the woman I wanted to be here as my date.

I felt Ashleigh’s eyes on me as I headed to the balcony door. I lifted my chin, indicating that she open it. She fumbled with the lock and pulled it aside.

I stepped outside and set the pot down. I crouched and grasped the label tied to one of the branches. When in bloom, the plant looked familiar. Pretty. Where had I seen that before? I turned, and Ashleigh joined me on the balcony.

“Thanks, Ashleigh. It will look lovely when the flowers come out.”

She shrugged, pursing her lips. She shifted from foot to foot, giving away how uncomfortable she felt.

“If I don’t kill it,” I continued, trying to calm her.

“It’s nice,” she said, sweeping her hand toward the open-plan living, dining and kitchen space. “The light is . . . bright.”

I chuckled. She was struggling and that helped me relax. We’d known each other our whole lives; it really shouldn’t be this difficult. “Let me show you around. Can I get you some wine first?”

“Yeah, I think alcohol would be good.”

“And I have snacks. I think. Assuming I’ve not burned them, I tried to do those cheese straws Haven makes.” I’d been cooking most of the day. I was looking forward to seeing Ashleigh, and I wanted to make something nice.

“Do you want to do the wine while I deal with snacks?” I indicated to a cupboard where I kept the wineglasses and picked up an oven cloth. It was nice to have her here, near me, doing things we normally did, even if the venue was new.

I slid the hot tray onto the counter. The straws looked like they did when Haven made them. Awesome.

“The flat came furnished? You’ve not bought all this stuff?” Ashleigh set the wineglasses beside the cheese straws and headed back to the refrigerator.

“No, everything came with it. Except my sheets and things like that.”

“And you’ve put the sofa in storage?”

I chuckled. My obsession with my old college sofa must have seemed ridiculous. It did to me now. “No, the sofa has gone to sofa heaven.”

Ashleigh turned to me, her eyes narrowed.

“I threw it out. It was knackered.”

“Wow, you loved that thing. I mean, it was ugly and thank God it’s gone, but how come?”

I shrugged. “It just didn’t seem important anymore. Time to let it go.”

Ashleigh focused on unscrewing the wine. I could see her words bubbling beneath the surface. She never held back. What was she contemplating? I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her until she told me what she was thinking. The smooth, creamy skin of her neck seemed to be waiting for my lips. My fingers buzzed with frustration at not being able to touch her.

She poured the wine—it seemed to take more concentration from her than it should. Her unblinking eyes and her fixed frown suggested she was performing brain surgery for the first time, not pouring two old friends a drink.

“So, that’s a big change,” she finally said.

“What? The sofa? Not really. Or maybe it was, but now it’s gone, I realize I should have thrown it out years ago. It doesn’t feel like a big thing. It was time to move on.”

I grinned, aware of what I was saying and the implications it had for us. She remained silent.

“Can you bring the wine through if I take this?” I pointed to the tray of snacks I’d prepared. “Shall we eat on the balcony?”

She nodded, her lack of words adding to the viscosity of the air between us.

I held the balcony door open and tilted my head, indicating she should go before me. As she stepped through, her hand brushed my torso and set the skin under my shirt alight. It was deliberate and flirtatious and the kind of thing I was used to from Ash, rather than Ashleigh. Was she trying to go back to before? Or was she deliberately making me want her? Instead of catching my eye, she took a seat and slid a glass of wine across the metal table to me.

“Wow, you can see the Shard. This place is great.” Relieved she’d finally spoken, I relaxed back into my chair.

“God, I meant to show you around.”

“It’s fine. Later.” She sank back into the chair, looking over the view, relaxed.

“I’ve cooked duck,” I said, proudly.

“Double wow. Duck? Are you sure it’s not from the Chinese place?” She raised her eyebrows at me.

“I’m sure.” I rolled my eyes. “Heard from Haven?” She was more likely to have spoken to my sister than I was and talking about Haven felt neutral.

“Yeah. She’s enjoying the city. Beth is dragging her around, showing her the sights. I think so Jake can spend time with his dad.”

“Haven can fend for herself.”

“I know, but you know how sweet Beth is. She’s trying to keep her occupied, I think.”

“Yeah.” I knew everything there was to know about keeping occupied.

“How’s the running?”

“The training’s good. I went out this morning.” Exercising in the morning created a calmness in me that stayed with me for the rest of the day, which helped my productivity at work and stopped me from calling Ashleigh every time I thought of her. “I’m trying to train six days a week.”

“Wow, are you eating more?” She absentmindedly trailed her eyes down my torso. I knew it wasn’t a muffin top that she looking at. The training had had an almost immediate effect on my body. I’d always been fit, but there was a definition under my skin that hadn’t been as sharp before. My clothes fit slightly differently. I felt tighter, stronger, faster. It was a powerful feeling, but nothing compared to watching Ashleigh look over my body as if it were chocolate.

My dick stirred as she wet her lips. I reached for my glass of wine, trying to shake it off. My movement interrupted her perusal of my abdomen, and a blush spread across her cheeks.

It was different between us, not because we were in a new place, but because it felt like a date. This didn’t feel like two old friends getting together for a dinner. She was watching me because she liked how I looked, and I couldn’t stop myself from imagining how she felt.

Maybe Ashleigh had always felt this and had managed to navigate the just friends thing, but for me something had changed and I couldn’t go back to how we were. I didn’t want to. What I wanted was to spread her out in front of me and have her for dinner.

I considered her over my glass. If I pushed things, would she resist me? Could she? Should I tell her how I was feeling, or would that be too much?

“Can I top you up?” I took her drink from her hands, deliberately brushing my fingers over hers. She jumped as if I were conducting electricity. I did my best to bury a grin.

She was toast.

She was mine.

I continued to watch her as I poured more wine. She seemed determined to admire the London skyline.

“How about that tour?” I asked.

I stood and she followed me back into the living room.

I headed to the back wall, pushing back walnut concertina doors. “This is my study. I guess you could use it as a dining space if you wanted to.”

“That’s great. Big.” She ran her fingers across my desk and along the back of my chair as she checked out the books on the bookshelf.

“Are these yours? I don’t remember them at . . . Emma’s.”

“Yeah, they’re mine. I never unpacked them.”

“God, yes, I remember this one. Didn’t you read this at school? You wrote an essay.” She’d picked up a copy of Lord of the Flies and flicked to the back cover. “You were obsessed with it. You called me Piggy for the entire summer.”

I frowned, but Ashleigh was turned toward the bookshelves so she couldn’t see. “I don’t remember that. I mean, I remember reading it and being obsessed, but I don’t remember calling you Piggy.”

“You don’t? I didn’t realize until years after that it wasn’t because of my thighs—oh and this one. Do you remember? We used to take turns reading it to each other under the magnolia tree in your parents’ garden.”

I nodded as I remembered the summer we passed The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn around as if it were a secret treasure, which of course, it was. I think we spent the entire summer under that tree, reading, laughing, fighting. I moved toward Ashleigh, close enough to sweep her hair from her neck. I yearned to see more of that perfect skin.

She continued to talk about that summer, the blossom, the way that ever since antebellum had been one of her favorite words. She chattered as if my fingers weren’t tangled in her hair, lingering over her neck, tracing her shoulder blades. God, she was mesmerizing. She smelled so sweet, so like summer. How had I resisted her allure for so long? Not seen how important she was to me? How precious, how sexy? My skin felt tight, as if I were going to burst if I didn’t feel her lips on mine.