Sweet Fate Read online

  “However, you’ve seemed distracted all evening. So you tell me—am I reading you wrong? Why are you here?”

  My brow furrowed. I’d already realized that I was here for all the wrong reasons, but now I felt like a total heel as well. It hadn’t occurred to me she’d recognize my angst. I wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship, but I did know that people came to a date with something to offer. I’d figured a paid meal and engaging company was enough—and it likely would have been, had I actually been engaging.

  But that wasn’t the reason I hesitated in my response.

  I hesitated because it finally hit me how fucked up I was over Audrey. A handful of months before, I wasn’t actively dating, but I would have welcomed a no-strings attached physical relationship with an attractive woman like Jana. I would have gladly taken her home and put out.

  I still could. I could invite her to my flat and fuck her on the couch and against the kitchen sink and over the dining table and everywhere else that Audrey had been and touched. Maybe that would be the distraction I needed. Maybe if I fucked someone else, I’d remember that there were other cunts in the universe, that there were other attractive women worthy of spending physical time with.

  But I didn’t want to take Jana home.

  I didn’t want to use another woman to fuck away thoughts of Audrey. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. And it was new to me to have such a thought. Fair wasn’t a concept I typically considered.

  “I’m not sure why I’m here,” I said finally. “I fear I’ve been a terrible waste of your time. I apologize sincerely, and please, rest assured that as cliché as it sounds, it’s not you. It’s most definitely me.”

  “Please,” she teased. “I know it’s not me. I’m a hell of a catch.” She was a confident woman, and I usually found that a turn-on. What a waste of a good evening, for both of us.

  “You are a catch. At another time in my life, maybe…” I trailed away because it wasn’t polite to offer hopes I couldn’t back up.

  Jana tilted her head. “What are you looking for at this time in your life? If you don’t mind me asking. I’m not trying to change your mind, I’m simply curious.”

  “Well, that’s a good question.” I ran my hand along my trouser leg under the table as I decided how to answer. “I suppose I’m like you, looking for some companionship now and then. Nothing permanent. No committed relationships for me anymore. Been there, done that.”

  “Your marriage ended as badly as mine did, did it?”

  “It did.” Bad was an understatement. Permanently scarring was a better term. Completely destructive was another. “Yes, I know one bad experience doesn’t mean they’re all going to be terrible, but it was really terrible. And painful. And a hassle, in the end, arguing over custody and record albums that neither of us are ever going to listen to again. It killed something in me, I think. I was an awful person through it all and a horrible father. I was mean and distracted and sad. So very sad. I had to go numb inside in order to survive it.”

  I was still numb. Or I had been until Audrey.

  “If I did ever fall in love again,” I said, omitting the part that I was already in love with someone we both knew, “I’m afraid I’d never be able to fully commit, even if I wanted to. I’d constantly be bracing for the other shoe to drop. I’d be guarding myself, waiting for the end to come. I don’t believe that I’d ever be able to give my whole heart, and I know enough about successful relationships to know that’s one of the most important ingredients.”

  I stayed caught in the thought for a moment when I was done talking, letting the things I’d said sink in. I’d been more truthful than I’d intended to be. It was the most honest I’d been with another person about the subject. It was the most honest I’d ever been with myself.

  Jana put her mug down and scooted it away. “You know. After you came to the fundraiser with Audrey and gave that generous donation that secured a position for her, I thought the two of you might be involved.”

  “No, no, no.” I realized I’d been too eager with my denial, both to Jana and to myself. And as long as we were being truthful… “It’s one-sided, anyway. She’s a very special young lady, as you surely know, and I am tremendously fond of her. I wouldn’t ever put that upon her because she’s looking for the whole romantic picture—the groom and the picket fence and the children—and that’s obviously not something I’m able to offer. But I do care for her, greatly. I wish her to receive every opportunity available, and I suppose I crossed a line in donating that money. I simply wanted her to be able to stay here if she liked, and I let my affection for her get the better of me.”

  “I understand. She is very special.” And too young for you. She didn’t say it, but she had to be thinking it. “Has she said that she wants to stay here?”

  I frowned. “No, she hasn’t.” We hadn’t actually talked about it. I’d simply assumed. “Has she said something to you?”

  “No. But she hasn’t accepted the job either. And if she doesn’t, I wondered if you expected the money to be returned or if you would allow us to allocate it elsewhere.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize that.” It felt like an anvil was suddenly pressing against my chest. It was hard enough getting used to the idea of sharing Audrey with other men. It was much harder to accept if I didn’t get to have any part of her at all.

  I didn’t want to accept it. I wanted her here. I wanted to tell Jana that she had to make the offer more attractive. I’d double the donation. Whatever it took.

  But that was interfering too, wasn’t it? When I’d decided that I wasn’t going to do that.

  I let out a heavy sigh. “Of course you can use the money how you please. I only wanted to give her the opportunity. Is there a deadline for her acceptance?”

  “The show she was brought on to help with opens tomorrow, so her internship is winding down. I told her I needed to know by December tenth.”

  It was the last day of November. That gave me ten days. Ten days to hope she’d decide to stay. Maybe she’d stay for Marco. My stomach twisted at the thought, and I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

  But at least she’d still be here, I told myself. Surely that was worth the anguish.

  It was. It had to be.

  My dinner date was over, and I was even more miserable than I’d been when it had begun. I paid the bill, and we walked outside together where I hailed Jana a cab.

  “You sure you don’t want to come over? I’m a great nightcap.”

  I was tempted this time more than I had been before. My interest level hadn’t changed, but I was sure it would be good for me. I needed to fuck away my Audrey attachment, even if I didn’t want to.

  But that didn’t feel fair to anyone. I wasn’t even sure I could get it up.

  I thanked her again and sent her away before hailing another cab for myself. I checked my phone as soon as I was on the road and found nothing had changed since the last time I’d checked. I stared out the window at the Christmas lights and composed a hundred different messages to Audrey that I never planned to send.

  How did your date go?

  Are you happy with him?

  Will you stay in London for him?

  Will you stay?

  It turned out I didn’t have to send a single text to get at least some of my answers. Because as soon as I walked through the lobby of my building on the way to the lift, I spotted her sitting on the stairs. Her shoulders were slumped and the corners of her mouth were bent into a frown.

  “My phone died,” she said, her voice thick. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I just waited for you here.”

  She was obviously upset. I immediately tensed, ready to take action. “Did the asshole hurt you?”

  “No. I think I might have hurt him.”

  “Physically?”

  She shook her head. “He wanted more. But he’s not The Guy, so I can’t give him more. I can’t force it.”

  I didn’t know how it was possible to be
elated and hurt for her at the same time, but I very much was both.

  “I’m taking your advice, Dylan. Letting go of the idea of love. Here’s to hoping it comes back.”

  My feelings for her bubbled abruptly inside my chest, rising through my throat, pressing to escape in the form of words. I’m here. I love you.

  But it wasn’t the kind of love she wanted, and even if it was, it wasn’t the love she deserved.

  I held out my hand and offered her the only thing I could give instead. “Want to go upstairs and get fucked for being such a good little girl, making such a grown-up decision?”

  She took my hand. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  Fourteen

  “Fantastic show, Audrey,” I said as we walked out of The National Gallery. “Simply splendid. Brava.” It was opening day of the Christmas exhibition she’d been working on, and she’d just finished taking me through the display. It had truly been awe-inspiring to see her in her environment. I couldn’t stop grinning.

  Her cheeks flushed the way they did when I was balls deep inside her. “I don’t really deserve any credit for it. It wasn’t my show. Mostly I pulled things from the archive room and got people coffee.”

  I looked at her curiously. False modesty wasn’t like Audrey. Either she truly hadn’t done much or she believed that she hadn’t. “Nonsense,” I said sincerely. “You knew each and every piece inside and out. Your commentary was the highlight of the exhibit. You can’t have that much knowledge about the project if you weren’t deeply involved.”

  She hesitated, as though she wanted to accept my words, but wasn’t so sure. “No, honestly. I’m just an intern. Anyone could have done what I did.”

  “But not anyone did. You did, and they hired you for a reason.” And they’d offered her another position as well. Was that the real reason she hadn’t accepted? Because she didn’t feel confident?

  She considered. “I suppose that’s true. And I really did love the work. And the people at the museum. It’s definitely been a dream job, even though it was mostly gruntwork.”

  Then take the offer, I thought. Stay and climb the ranks.

  I didn’t say it though. She didn’t know that I knew she hadn’t accepted, and while I could just ask her what she was doing next, I was too afraid of the answer.

  There were still ten days until she had to give her decision to Jana. Nine and a half now. I planned on making them the best days possible, hoping she’d be happy enough to want to stay.

  “You’ll let me take you to dinner now to celebrate, won’t you?” My mind was already working through the restaurants I knew in the area that didn’t need a reservation. We’d want to go someplace close or else get a cab. It hadn’t started snowing yet, but the forecast had called for it and the afternoon air was cold and crisp.

  “I’d love that. But I have something I’d like to do first, if you don’t mind.”

  “What is it?”

  She tugged at the collar of my coat. “It’s a surprise!”

  “Well, then I can’t honestly tell you if I mind,” I teased. I couldn’t imagine a single thing I’d mind doing as long as I was with her. Even if she suggested something as outrageous as ice skating, which was definitely at the top of the list of things I suspected she’d be interested in.

  “Are you trying to wind me up?” She wrinkled her nose, and it looked so adorable I nearly had to kiss it.

  Somehow I resisted the temptation, but just barely. “I am. Of course I don’t mind. Take me where you will.”

  “Good because I already bought us tickets. Give me a second.” She pulled out her mobile and made a few swipes. Then she slipped her arm through mine and tugged me toward the stairs. “This way. Our Uber will be here in five.”

  Less than twenty minutes later, we’d gotten in our car, crossed the Thames, and had been dropped off in front of Jubilee Gardens. There were many things around here that required tickets, but one option was especially obvious.

  “We’re going on the London Eye?” I asked nodding up at the cantilevered observation wheel in front of us.

  “Yes! Have you ever been?”

  “Not in years.” Ellen and I had been newlyweds when it had opened. We’d come in the summer and it was hot and the queue had been long, but the thrill of floating more than four hundred feet about the river with my bride at my side had been unforgettable. All of London had been stretched out before us, and it had felt symbolic of our lives.

  I’d come again with Aaron soon after my divorce, and the magic of the first time was nowhere to be found. He’d only been seven, and the view only interested him for about five minutes before he was ready for it to be over so we could go play at the playground. I’d been irritated and impatient and unimpressed. The whole thing had felt like an overpriced, overlong ferris wheel ride, and I’d vowed to never go on the bloody contraption again.

  “Want to go again? With me?” Her eyes were big and intense as she stared at me for my answer.

  “Yes. I do.”

  We made our way down the sidewalk toward the Queen’s Walk and found the queue for the flexi tickets she’d bought. There were about fifty or so people ahead of us and the young lady who scanned Audrey’s mobile to let us in said it would probably only be ten to fifteen minutes before we could get on.

  “I thought about getting the fast pass,” Audrey said as we waited. “But I didn’t know what time we’d be done at the Gallery. I’m glad I didn’t since it doesn’t look like we’ll need it. I’d expected it to be more crowded for being in the So Many Children and Tourists part of town.”

  I chuckled at her reference to the stereotypes map she’d used to familiarize herself with London. “It’s not the season for tourists or children. You should see this place in the summer months. On second thought, you shouldn’t. This is much better. Though clear skies would be ideal.”

  She looked up at the clouds, as though she hadn’t noticed them before. “I would have thought you were a fan of this broody, gray weather.”

  “Oh, I am. But it doesn’t do well for visibility.”

  “No visibility is a plus as far as I’m concerned.”

  “The whole point of this wheel is the views.”

  “I know, but I’m afraid of heights.”

  Somehow I’d forgotten this fact, or really never believed it in the first place. It was still so odd to think of her frightened of anything. But if she insisted… “Then why are we doing this?”

  “Because I’m afraid of heights.” She laughed at my confused expression. “Fear is so annoying. It keeps people from doing and having things they might really want. It’s usually stupid and unwarranted, too, the things that scare us. I know I’m not going to fall out of the sky. I know it, and yet my heart starts pounding, and I start sweating when I even think about going up there. Look at my hands!” She held out her palms for me to see. “Sweaty.”

  She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. “But the London Eye is one of the most famous tourist attractions in London. I don’t want to tell people back home I never rode because I was too scared. I’d rather face the fear head-on. Personally, I think it’s the better way to live.”

  She was right. Of course she was right. And still I felt like arguing for some reason. “Facing your fears makes for a good life, yes, but that only works when you really don’t want to be afraid any longer. It’s possible that some people like to stay afraid.”

  “Why would anyone want to stay afraid?”

  “I don’t know. Because it’s familiar, I suppose. You already know what to guard yourself from. You have all your safety nets set in place. And when you get over those fears, you open yourself up to becoming afraid of something else. Sometimes it’s easier to live with the fears you know.” This speech had come too easily to me. As though it was something I’d said before or was already formed inside me, waiting for a chance to be spoken.

  She pressed her lips together tightly. “Well, that’s just silly. I think holding onto fears makes it easier to b
e afraid of new things, not the other way around. It’s like wagon wheels in a rut—once you’ve trained your neural pathways to react with anxiety about one thing, it isn’t long before a lot of things scare you. I can’t imagine living like that. Is it even living at all?”

  I didn’t want to answer, so I just shrugged. It seemed like a pointed question, like she was trying to confront me about my fears and how I lived my life—or didn’t live my life, according to her.

  Or maybe she hadn’t meant it personally, and I just took it that way. I considered asking outright, but in the end, I was a coward.

  “I do know this,” I said genuinely. “You’re a brave woman, Audrey Lind.” Certainly she was braver than me. About all sorts of things.

  The queue moved fast as the ticket attendant had assured, and we were led into a capsule shortly with nearly two dozen other people. That was one of the admirable features of the Eye’s boarding process—though it was a popular attraction, the actual ride wasn’t ever crowded. It would have been near intolerable to be stuck for thirty minutes on the wheel otherwise, even with the air conditioning.

  I stepped in after Audrey who walked immediately to a spot against the window. “There’s a bench here,” I pointed out. “If you’d rather have some distance between you and the glass.”

  She shook her head. “This is good for now. I find it’s better to dive right into these kinds of things. Tiptoeing around the fear only makes it worse.”

  “That it does.” I moved next to her, placing my hands on the rail like she had done. The ride was already in motion, another one of its highlights. The wheel rarely stopped, even as passengers got on and off, making for one smooth trip.

  But that also meant we were already rising, already climbing higher in the sky.