Second Chances (13 page)

How do I start?
The right words escaped her. How was she supposed to explain what had been going on when she didn’t completely understand it herself?

“Would I be correct in the assumption that this has something to do with David McDougal?”

Kristin stared at the floor. “You would be correct, yes.”

Ingrid removed her hand. “God, don’t tell me you’re having an affair with him. He’s engaged, Kristin. I thought you knew better than that.”

Kristin leaned back in her chair and lifted her gaze to Ingrid’s. “This is why I didn’t want to talk. You’re judging me, not supporting me. We’re not having an affair. Besides, I think you have to actually be involved with someone else in order to cheat on them.”

Ingrid wrinkled her brow. “I’m sorry, I’ll listen. But, you’ve lost me, love.”

Kristin tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and folded her hands in her lap. “David and Sophie Miller are only pretending to be engaged for public press. They haven’t actually been a couple for about two months now.”

Ingrid’s eyebrows arched in surprise as she leaned back and rested her elbows on the arms of the chair. “Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do. And that explains why you’ve let yourself care for him so much.”

Kristin swallowed hard against the lump that had formed inside her throat. “Our relationship has its complications, yes.”

Ingrid raised her eyebrows. “So, you have a relationship with him?”

Kristin propped her elbow on the arm of the chair and buried her hand in her hair, cradling the side of her head. “I don’t know what you’d call what we have. There’s a connection there, but the timing just doesn’t seem right, with his fake fiancé and all.”

Ingrid touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. “Not to mention how hesitant you’ve been with moving on in your personal life.”

Kristin sighed. “Yes, there’s that.”

“And what does David say about all of this?”

Kristin straightened in her seat. “He wants us to be more than friends, but he knows how skittish I am about that right now, especially with his psycho ex fiancé breathing down my neck.”

Ingrid’s shoulders bristled with tension as she narrowed her eyes. “Psycho, huh? I always suspected there was way more to Sophie Miller than her public persona let on. What has she done to make you have that opinion of her?”

“She has warned me to keep away from David multiple times. She even sent me a copy of an interview she gave, where she talked about their upcoming wedding and plans for children.”

The lines in Ingrid’s forehead deepened as she contorted her face in confusion. “I read that interview in
The Sun
the other day. If they are only pretending, why would she care so much about your involvement with David?”

Kristin’s head bobbed in agreement. “That’s what I said, but David is convinced she’s merely worried over something hitting the press before she’s ready to deal with it, something outside of her scope of control.” Her index finger moved automatically to her temple and rubbed with firm pressure.

Thinking about this mess gave her a headache every time. Maybe she should invest in Ibuprofen stock or something. “We agreed to be friends only, until this mess played itself out, but I don’t think I can do that anymore. Not after what happened at my flat a few days ago.”

I felt complete.
Just the memory of his touch increased her pulse. “Wonderful. Terrible. Weird. Insert conflicting emotion here.”

Ingrid flashed a small red lipstick smile. “David’s the first man you’ve let yourself care about since James. Of course, it’s going to feel weird. Guilty, even. They are all perfectly normal reactions.”

Kristin let go of Ingrid’s hand and bent forward. Her hands rested on her knees as she stared at the mauve carpet. “If by perfectly normal, you really mean completely schizophrenic.”

Ingrid’s understanding chuckle touched her heart.

Kristin closed her eyes. The murmurs of the shoppers’ voices floated around her. The store was quite busy for the lunch hour, but everyone seemed content to leave them to their conversation. She inhaled. The smell of new leather shoes calmed her nerves. Who needs new car smell? “I’m just not sure I’m ready for any of this.”

How could Kristin answer that question? The only person she’d ever been in love with was gone. How was she supposed to know what it would feel like with someone else? “Well…um…I…” Kristin took a shaky breath and stared at the floor again.

Ingrid tapped Kristin’s knee. “Look at me, love.”

Kristin raised her head and let her eyes meet Ingrid’s again.

“Don’t you agree that the fact that you have to actually think about the answer to that question warrants that you at least try to explore what you have with David?” Ingrid tilted her head to the side. “The question of loving someone else would have immediately received a negative response if I would have asked it before you met him. You never even considered the possibility before.”

Kristin’s throat went dry. Ingrid was right. The fact that she even considered her answer was telling, at best. David had obviously infiltrated her heart more than she’d realized. Could it be that she had fallen in love with him, and she just didn’t want to admit it?

Ingrid patted Kristin’s shoulder reassuringly. “Just something for you to think about, love. I don’t want you to give up too soon, even with Psycho Sophie hanging about.”

A smile spread across Kristin’s lips, despite the tumult inside her mind. “So, that’s what you’re going to call her now, huh?”

“Abso-bloody-lutely.” Ingrid waggled her fingers in the air to catch the attention of a passing sales clerk. “Oy! Sales boy! Over here!”

~~~

After shopping all afternoon with Ingrid, Kristin had returned to work and desperately tried to juggle the gallery’s finances. Utilities, rent, advertising. These things were difficult to pay on time when there wasn’t any money from sales. Business had slackened, a hard addition to her other problems. At this rate, she might have to consider letting Celia go as well, just to keep things afloat.

It also didn’t help that Kristin’s mind was still muddled with the conversation she and Ingrid had shared earlier. How could Kristin not have seen what her friend had so clearly pointed out? Sure, Kristin had feelings for David, even admitted she cared for him, but love? The walls around her heart were never breached that easily. It had taken months before Kristin admitted to James that she loved him, yet David had claimed her heart in mere weeks?

Kristin propped her chin in her hand. Nothing in her life was simple anymore. David entered her life, and everything went all topsy-turvy. The only thing she had honestly discovered by being away from him these past few days was how lonely she was without him. She missed him, and the emptiness sliced at her gut like razor blades.

The buzzing of her cell phone broke into her thoughts as it vibrated across her desk. As she clutched it in her hand, David’s name flashed across the display. She flipped the casing open. “Hello?”

A long breath blew out from between her lips. “I do…I mean I did.”
Geez, could I sound more like an idiot?
“I’ve just had a lot on my mind, and quite a few things to take care of at the gallery. Is everything all right with you?” Keeping the conversation mundane was easiest for her.

She heard David sigh deeply as well. “That bloody article in
The Sun
kept me a prisoner to the press for a couple of days. I’m so sorry about this mess, lass.”

“And what is it that you and Bernard said to them?” Kristin’s voice was stiff with control, which she was certain David would pick up on, but a telephone conversation was not the right venue for baring her soul.

“Does it really matter? They’ve let me alone, that’s all I care about.”

“I see.” He hadn’t come clean with the press, then. Would he ever stand up to that woman? What if he doesn’t?
Can I really go back to being friends?

“Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I’m fine, David. Was there something you wanted?”

David growled into the phone. “Why can’t you just talk to me? Women are supposed to be the better communicators, but getting anything out of you is like pulling teeth sometimes!”

Kristin grimaced at the phone in her hand. The only reason she was being difficult was because she was unsure how to deal with her emotions or their relationship-whatever-it-should-be-called. “I’m sorry. I dislike having important conversations over the phone.”

David fell silent for a moment. “You’re right. We need to talk in person, which is actually why I called.” He paused for an instant and cleared his throat. “Tonight is the final performance of my play, and I was wondering if you’d like to attend.”

His absence in her life these past few days had left a larger hole than she’d expected, but was she ready or willing to go there again? “I don’t know…”

“It’ll be fun, and we can grab a drink afterwards and talk. Really talk. Look, I don’t care about the article. I care about you.” Silence stretched over the line again as he waited for her answer.

“Great. I’ll leave your name at the door. The curtain rises at nine.” Kristin could actually hear the relief in his voice. “Bye, lass.”

Kristin shuddered. “Bye.” She closed her phone. It just wasn’t right, the sensations he could manifest within her body with just the sound of his voice.

She scooped up the papers scattered on her desktop into a semi-organized pile. The gallery had been dead today. So dead, that Celia went home not long after Kristin had returned from lunch. She might as well close up early. That way she would have more time to get ready. But for what, exactly, she wasn’t entirely certain.

~~~

Kristin checked her reflection in the rearview mirror once again.
Damn it
. She turned her attention back to the road. She hated London traffic.

Finally, the Royal National Theatre loomed into view, relief that she wouldn’t be late flooding through her. She had debated whether or not to actually go, even after she told David she would, but decided she didn’t want to disappoint him. The excuse she told herself, anyway.

Ingrid was right about her new Pradas looking smashing with her pink dress, the same dress she’d chosen to wear this evening. Maybe it was silly, but wearing the gift Ingrid had bought her gave Kristin strength somehow, as if Ingrid had her back. Kristin chuckled. Ingrid would say she was being daft. The support of her friend was constant. Kristin wouldn’t need a pair of shoes to demonstrate it.

The heels of her pumps clicked on the pavement as she hurried inside the building. The air hummed with the hushed voices of a packed house anticipating a fantastic show. An usher quickly showed her to her seat near the front.

Being seated so conspicuously made her nervous, but David had left explicit instructions with the theater, stating that he wanted her to have the best seat possible. She turned her attention to the program she’d been given at the door.

Martin McDonagh’s play,
The Pillowman
, had been getting rave reviews, mostly due to David’s performances. He was the star, after all, portraying a character by the name of Katurian. A dark and brooding drama, the play was about a writer whose macabre stories begin to be acted out by a serial killer.

“Just what I need,” Kristin murmured to herself. “Something to make me depressed.”

The woman sitting to Kristin’s left glanced at her sharply after the flippant remark. Kristin smiled and engrossed herself in the play’s program as her face heated with embarrassment. She flipped through the pages, until she found David’s picture and bio. Just looking at his photo made her breath catch and her chest suddenly tighten in pain.