We sit around a high table. I perch on my stool, balancing myself using my heel on the step. Millie looks flawless in a flowing pink off-the-shoulder dress, the soft material streaming around her. Angelic almost.
We scan the menu; I choose a mojito. I love the clean, crisp flavor of the lime.
Our conversation flows easily. Dog and Millie are a lovely couple and easy to like. He’s crazy about her, hanging off her every word. She gushes about her business making cupcakes, flicking through pictures on her phone to demonstrate the weird and wonderful designs she’s been asked to create. This girl is talented, and I get visions of her on a TV baking show. She’s exactly the kind of contestant that the public would vote for. A hundred percent likeable.
Dog is officially barking mad. Any lull in the conversation is immediately filled with a perplexing story. I’m not sure if they’re all true, but he’s entertaining. It’s obvious Lance and he are close. They’ve spent years watching each other’s backs, seenthings that they would rather unsee, been war heroes together. True comrades.
No one pries into my past. Lance knows most of it. Except for the one thing I keep hidden, the thing no one knows. I shudder, the idea of my past being dragged into the light frightening. All I want to do is hide from the past, from him, from the pathetic creature I used to be.
They listen to my stories of creating my novels. My time as Bex’s friend. My battle with cancer. Then, my success beating it. When my emotions rise, Lance squeezes my hand under the table. This man is becoming my rock. He shouldn’t be. He’s not my future. He can’t be.
My happiness can’t be dependent on a single-father, almost twenty years my junior. It’s my responsibility to create it. And if I have a long term partner again, it needs to be someone with graying hair, a stable income, and a timeline similar to mine. If I find that, I need to grab it with both hands. Though, while I’m drowning in Lance, is looking even an option? I’m not sure I care.
A waiter approaches us. “Are you ready to move to the dining room?”
We nod and follow him to another elegant space, which is fitted out plusher than the bar next door.
We eat. Each plate is more beautiful than the last. This is fine dining at its best. By the final course, I’m sated and happy.
We move upstairs to a more relaxed bar with leather couches and low tables. I cuddle up next to Lance. He kisses my forehead, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. For a moment, everything feels easy, right. Normal.
The boys head to the bar for another round. I move to sit next to Millie.
“You and Dog are a lovely couple,” I whisper. She flashes me a shy smile.
“I adore him. He feels like the one. But...” Her voice falls away.
“But...” I prompt. She breathes hard through her nose. The way someone does when they know they’ve said too much, but are desperate to get whatever is niggling them off their chest.
“But he may get deployed again. I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a soldier’s wife. It’s fine when he’s here. But out there with guns and landmines…” Her finger twists on the stem of her glass. “Living like that terrifies me. I’m not sure I want that.”
Her honesty stuns me. Lance mentioned redeployment and his indecision. When he returned in the summer, he planned to request a discharge. After the affair, he reconsidered his options. The army approved a further six months’ extension to his current contract, meaning he would be able to stay home. Signing up again would mean three more years. I’m not sure how I feel about that either.
I try not to think about it, having no right to an opinion. Our futures won’t be together. But Millie sees a future with her soldier. Her fears are valid. She needs to consider all the potential outcomes for him, for her, for their life.
Lance and Dog stand at the bar. The room is filled with beautiful women—young, smooth-skinned, perfect. Their hungry eyes roam over my man. Jealousy claws in my chest. Fear too. Fear that I’m no match for them. And he’ll realize.
He turns, smiles, and waves. Confident. Not caring who sees. He blows me a kiss; I catch it. The girl next to him gawks, then her nose scrunches with open repulsion. It stings.
Has this gone too far?
Is it time to cut ties before I fall too deep?
Maybe after Christmas. Rip the band-aid off and let him go.
Save myself while I still can. Or whatever of me will be left.
Chapter thirteen
Lance
Being Katie’s rebound fuck is the best job role I’ve had in my life.
The sex is hot, insanely hot. She’s adventurous but not overly experienced, which is a heady combination. Most of what she writes is theory—now, she’s testing it on me. I love it.
“Fuck, that feels amazing,” she squeals. It spurs me on to ride her harder. She’s on her back; hands tied above her head, legs held high in stirrups secured to the bedframe. The blindfold obscures her sight. I withdraw unexpectedly. She whimpers.
“Don’t stop. I need you inside me. Now.” Her chest rises and falls fast, her body begging for more.