In Another Life

www.escapepublishing.com.au

In Another Life
E.E. Montgomery

A moving short story about finding yourself, fixing past mistakes, and forevers…

When Eli was twenty-four, he thought he had it all: the job of his dreams, the man of his dreams, and a future that would last forever. But Mike had different plans, and he left Eli to follow them, breaking Eli's heart.

Eight years later, Eli and Mike cross paths, but a personal tragedy in Eli's life ensures any chance they had to reconnect slips away.

Eight years pass again, and Mike is back. Eli had finally started to hope that he could find happiness without Mike, but now he must make a decision: play it safe and risk living the rest of his life pining for the one man who made him feel whole, or risk everything on the hope that the third time is the charm.

Until recently, E.E. Montgomery spent most of her nights studying at university. A belief that what you learn should help you earn has led E.E. into different careers. She has taught adolescents and adults, worked in fast food restaurants and upmarket jewellery stores, been a farmer, and run a small business specialising in therapeutic massage. Her most recent degree means E.E. Montgomery now spends her days managing a library. Being surrounded by books and planning ways to encourage others to read is one of the joys in life.

Writing has been the thread that has stitched the fragments of a curious mind into a myriad of imaginary worlds — most just like the one we live in.

A dedicated people-watcher, E.E. finds stories everywhere. In a cafe, a cemetery, a book on space exploration or on the news; there's a story of personal growth, love, and unconditional acceptance somewhere.

You can contact E.E. Montgomery at
[email protected]
, at her blog:
http://eemontgomery.blogspot.com
, or at her web site:
http://www.eemontgomery.com
.

About the Author

Chapter 1

Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

“I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.”

I stopped stirring the white sauce and watched the bubbles rise and burst. After a long, silent moment, I let go of the wooden spoon and reached over to turn off the gas under the pan. It was too late. I could already smell scorched milk. Slowly, because my balance had disappeared, I turned to look at Mike. He looked the same as ever — dark curls like little horns on his forehead, violet-blue eyes rimmed with long black lashes, clear fresh-cream skin. For one stolen moment, I told myself he was talking about something simple like finishing the small rock garden we started planning last Christmas.

His smile was gone.

I opened my mouth to ask…I wasn't sure what. Probably something inane like
‘What can't you do?
' I looked behind him and noticed two suitcases standing like toast soldiers next to the door.

“I have that conference in New York.”

I brought my gaze back to him but the sentence still didn't make sense with what was going through my head. I blinked, knew it was too slow, knew I was too slow, too tired, too overworked, too…everything, to understand what was going on. Yet I knew what he was going to say next.

“You forgot that too, didn't you?” Mike said, a mix of hurt and cynicism flickering over his features before they once again settled into blank stoicism. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, the little horns sitting upright for several seconds before sinking back to his forehead. “In another life, this might have worked. We'd always be together, you and me.”

The words had weight, like they were supposed to mean something to me. I thought we
were
working. I thought we
would
always be together. I thought…

“It's just long hours for a little while, Mike. You know that. You're doing the same thing. In a few years, our careers will be settled and we'll have time for all the things we want to do.” He knew that. We'd talked about it before I took the new job. We didn't need to discuss it again when he was offered his promotion. I took an unsteady step toward him, my feet as foggy as my head seemed to be. “It's
your
job isn't it?” His skin reddened. “What have you done?”

“Don't use that tone with me, Eli. You knew what this promotion meant to me.
Still
means to me. You knew there would be…changes.”

“What changes? What haven't you told me about?”

He stood tall and lifted his chin defiantly; “They're transferring me to L.A., effective after the New York conference.”

All the air huffed out of me and I staggered, my hand only landing on the kitchen counter by chance and preventing me from falling.
You didn't tell me. You didn't want to talk this over and decide how we'd make it work
. “You're leaving me?”

He got angry. “Like you'll even notice. You've been so focused on your new job. This is the first time you've been home early enough to cook dinner in weeks. Most days you come in, shower, then work for a couple more hours before falling into bed and sleeping like you'll never wake up.” He sounded so accusatory — like it was my fault he was leaving me.

“This is because I haven't been cooking dinner?”

“No, this is because you don't care about anything but yourself and your stupid job.”

“
My
job? What about
your
job? Aren't you leaving me because of that?”

“I'm leaving you because I don't want to live with you anymore!”

Silence descended. Looking at him made my throat tight and my eyes sting but I
couldn't get out of the kitchen. He stood squarely in the doorway to the living room. I spun away from him, unable to witness his self-righteous anger.

“Look. I'll be back in a week to go through my stuff. I've arranged for movers to come a few days after that, but I'll be gone by then. I'll send you an email when it's all set up so if you want to be out when they're here, you can.”

I breathed through my mouth, aiming for silent but knowing I failed. My throat was too tight to get any words out and the only things running through my head were,
‘Why don't you want me? What did I do wrong? I thought we were in love.'

Apparently only I was.

The tears came then along with a slight loosening of my throat, but when I turned to ask Mike all the questions, to finish the argument, he was gone.

So were his suitcases.

Eight years later
.

I strode into the building, knowing I was unforgivably late for the meeting, but I'd been up all night and had come directly from the hospital so they could damn well wait for me. I sketched a wave to the receptionist and kept walking.

“Mr Jones,” the receptionist called, rising to intercept me. When she was close enough to speak softly, she said, “Mr Watson rang down to say they're all here and having coffee. From what he said, you'll be just in time for the beginning of the discussions.”

“Thank you.” I continued on my way, grateful that Quinn was there to smooth things over. It made my absence less of a disaster. This was the first big merger I was in charge of. I didn't want to make any mistakes — even ones I couldn't control — like the last two days at the hospital.

I emerged from the lift to find Brittany, my PA, standing ready with the files I would need. As I took them I leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Remind me to take you and the receptionist downstairs out to lunch next week.”

Brittany grinned at me. “That'll be seven lunches you owe me then.”

I laughed — she was right. By next week, we'd be knee deep in another project. “We'll take our laptops,” I said as I continued to the conference room.

My smile lingered as I pushed the heavy wooden door to the conference room open, but died as soon as I took in the faces sitting around the table.

“Eli,” Quinn Watson excused himself from the man he'd been talking to and walked around the long table to greet me. “I'm glad you were able to get here. How is she?”

I dragged my gaze back to my friend and neighbor. “She's stable for the moment,” I spoke softly, needing to share at least that much but not wanting to blurt my private life out amongst strangers. Looking back around the room, my gaze landed on the man I thought I'd never see again before returning to Quinn — and others. I took a deep breath as I stared at the folders in my arms, images of his wide smile and strong arms flickering through my mind as I convinced myself it didn't matter that he was there. He had left. I'd moved on. Three breaths later, I'd focused my mind totally on the contents of the folder and was back on task. Anything else that might have bubbled up as I entered the room, any unruly emotions I'd pushed aside years ago, were back where they belonged. Buried under the order and routine that was now my life.

Mike tried to catch my gaze several times. I saw it as I addressed the gathering and presented our case for a merger — but I ignored him. The little horned cowlicks were gone,
subdued in a short, controlled style. Even his eyes seemed less bright, the color the same, but the energy and curiosity that always shone from them somehow dimmed in the tanned face. His presence didn't matter to me. I told myself that over and over as I focused my discussions on the group leaders. His name had never shown in any of the correspondence so I could only assume he was a last-minute addition, or a newbie working his way up.

Two hours later we took a break. Food was carried in and adjacent rooms were opened to allow everyone to move around. I headed for the bathrooms at the other end of the hall, leaving the ones at this end for our guests. I didn't realize Mike had followed me until he grabbed my arm and swung me against the wall beside the door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was low and growly, the way it always got when he was angry.

“I'm leading the negotiations. You would know that if you'd read any of the material.” My stomach churned and a sweat broke out down my back but I managed to keep my voice calm and clear. I'd learned to control the panic years ago. If it hadn't been for Quinn, I might not have made it out of the curled-up, whimpering ball I became after Mike left.

“This isn't where you're supposed to be. You never wanted this.”

I laughed but I could hear the cynicism and bitterness in it. I hoped he didn't. “You don't always get what you want, do you?” I tried to shift sideways but he was leaning into me, holding my shoulders to the wall. “What about you? I thought you'd be CEO by now.”

“I'm 2IC.” A flush deepened his tan. “Newly appointed.”

That explained what he was doing here. As a new 2IC, he'd have to make sure he was familiar with all the contracts and sitting in on some of the new ones would be a must.

“Congratulations.” I didn't mean it, didn't care, and that came through in the word.

“Eli.” Mike still held me and shuffled closer. I didn't want it but my body reacted just as it always had. My breath left me in a long, needy sigh, and no matter how I tried to disguise it, Mike knew.

“Eli,” he whispered before he lowered his head and took my lips in a ravaging kiss.

He felt the same, yet different. His body was larger, more developed at thirty-two than it had been at twenty-four. The hard strength of it encouraged me to relax, to give into it, just like I always had. I fought it but my body knew this man, still craved him, even after all this time. By increments, I sank into the kiss.

Just as I began to respond, I noticed his scent. Nothing else would have helped me then and I was at once relieved and disappointed. I pushed him, catching him unaware so that he staggered back several steps and caught his hip on the edge of the counter.

“What the fuck, Eli?”

“You're wearing Armani.”

The confusion on his face made me laugh. He didn't remember, and that was enough to bring my brain back on line. He'd always said Armani was for pussies and suck-ups and people who were trying to be something they weren't. I wiped my hand across my face, removing the feel of his mouth on mine.