Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
In the months after their break-up, she used to spray Ariana’s perfume on the pillow beside her; the scent brought her comfort. It was torture, obviously.
Who does that?
She often questioned her own intentions—was she trying to make herself miserable? There was a series of days that turned into weeks where even her favourite coffee shop and her mom’s lemon meringue pie couldn’t get her to snap out of it—it was a pity party for one.
The embarrassing step back came the night after she returned from the Harrison family trip to Lake Michigan.
She opened the cabinet in her bathroom and removed the bottle of perfume hidden at the back.
There was less than a quarter left. She would never wear it herself—too musky—she didn’t need to keep it, and she’d had countless opportunities over the years to dispose of it, give it away, mail it in an anonymous parcel to Ariana’s home address with the bra she left behind, her spare electric toothbrush heads, and the pair of grey jogging bottoms with the hole on the thigh. But she didn’t.
Instead, day after day, she opened the same cabinet, stared at the same quarter bottle of perfume, and sighed.
She didn’t realise how important it was to remove triggers until she read an online article that alluded to such things: if you must keep them, keep them out of sight.
And so she moved it to the back. It was no longer the first thing she saw in the morning, and that was progress.
Until now, she gave in to the temptation to spray her pillows once again.
“What is wrong with you?” Leah muttered to herself.
The Lake Michigan trip—exactly what I needed—were the words she typed into social media; the collection of photos made for a wholesome post. It felt like an appropriate post to share.
She was grateful to Grace for allowing her to spend time with her family.
She was grateful for the break from reality.
But exactly what I needed was more to do with keeping up appearances than anything else.
That’s all social media was, and she hated it.
She hated that she, too, wanted to portray a certain image to the world as though anyone actually gave a rat’s ass about her life.
A whole two minutes after she hit post on the selection of carefully chosen images, her mobile phone pinged—and again, and again—and eventually the caller ID flashed up: Grace.
Leah answered, begrudgingly. “Hi.”
“Hi? Really?”
She was about to get a Grace grilling, and she wasn’t mentally prepared. She had to return to Douglas Green Advisory Group at 7 a.m. A day filled with meetings, questions she couldn’t answer, and her father’s soaring stress levels that materialised after a week’s vacation.
“I’m sorry,” Leah apologised.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were planning on leaving early?” Grace asked. It was the same question she sent via text the day before, but she clearly expected a different answer.
“I did.”
Sort of.
“You told me as you were lugging your suitcase to the door and directing your Uber driver on where to pick you up,” Grace said sarcastically. “I wouldn’t say you gave me a lot of notice.”
“It was a last-minute decision.”
“Yeah, you said that already. But why? What did my sister say to you?” Grace probed.
“What makes you think it had something to do with Ariana?”
“Because she told me.”
“She did? What did she tell you?” Leah sat forward.
“Nothing. But now I know it was about Ariana.” She laughed.
“I hate you.”
“Was it news of the engagement? I would understand if that threw you off—I get it. As much as it’s been a long time and you’ve moved on, things like that always leave a sour taste, and it’s okay to feel hurt, Leah. Nobody would blame you for that.”
If only it was that simple. She wanted to tell Grace everything, but she was left in a compromising position. Grace would always be her best friend, but she would always be Ariana’s sister, and blood was thicker than water. The last thing Leah wanted to do was rock the boat.
“Yeah, I, erm, I guess it got to me a little more than I thought it would. I’m sorry.”
“Leah,” Grace said sternly. “Don’t you ever apologise for feeling what you feel. Next time, just come and talk to me. I want to be there for you.”
“I know. Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” She didn’t anticipate spending time with Ariana on a regular basis. “What did your family say?”
“I told them you had an emergency work thing. They’re fine. Ariana didn’t buy it, though.”
“No? What did she say?” Leah probed.
“Not a lot, but I got the feeling she knew something I didn’t. Ari has this guilty face—she’s had it since we were kids. She can’t hide it, which isn’t ideal for her, but great for me.”
In all the years Leah had been friends with Grace, she didn’t shy away from telling her anything.
The late-night sexting with old flames, disgusting habits, family arguments, gossip, sexual encounters that resulted in rather questionable positions—and everything in between.
There had never been a topic off-limits, or a topic Leah felt too embarrassed to discuss.
Even the time she coughed and accidentally farted in the middle of a work meeting.
She was mortified. She tried to blame it on the chair, but her face reached a level of red that only Santa could relate to.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Grace asked.
Want—no.
“Erm . . .no, but—”
Think of something to change the subject.
“I came home to a request from my neighbour. She asked if I could keep the noise down because it was too loud the other night. I told her I wasn’t even here, so she got the wrong apartment, but she doesn’t believe me.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, really, she left me a note.”
“Not about the note. You’re lying about having nothing to tell me.”
“You don’t know that.” Leah scoffed.
“Yes, I do, because you always say erm and proceed to tell me a pointless story that has no relevance to the conversation in order to change the subject. Honestly, you and my sister need to get some new ways to disguise when you’re lying.”
“Fine!” Leah sighed. “Yes, I’m lying.”
“And why would you be lying?”
“How long do you have?”
“I have an hour’s drive home with a sleeping baby as company, so I’ve got plenty of time.”
Here we go, Leah thought.
In the dark solitude of her bedroom, Leah sprawled across her soft sheets. Her body tensed, her thighs tightening together to try and encourage the pulsating. In her dream, she found herself in a familiar setting—in her old Michigan apartment.
Ariana was walking from the bathroom to the foot of the bed, wearing the white towelling robe they purchased from a hotel in New York.
The ends of her curly hair held the perspiration.
Her face was a shiny golden-brown. Leah walked over and brushed her fingertips down the length of Ariana’s exposed torso, pushing the robe to either side.
In the dreamscape, she pulled Ariana’s body towards hers. She felt the warmth of her skin. The rhythm of Ariana’s heart syncing with her own. Each kiss was infused with the passion and tenderness they used to share. There was no conversation, no explanation—only kissing.
Leah allowed Ariana to touch her; she knew what she needed, what she liked, how she liked it.
Sex had never been an issue for them. The Ariana in her dreams was even more confident, using every part of her body to cause Leah unmatched arousal.
The teasing continued; her fingers traced the familiar lines of Ariana’s body as she pushed her fingers inside Leah.
With every nerve ending ignited, she succumbed to her desires.
As the first light of dawn began to seep into her consciousness, the dream started to slip away.
Leah’s eyes opened.
Shit.
“I really need to stop doing that,” she muttered.
It was the third night in a row. The arousal lingered, leaving her with a bittersweet ache. She reached over into her bedside drawer. The small purple vibrator she purchased in last year’s Black Friday sales would help her forget all about Ariana.
It didn’t.
All she did was think of Ariana whilst she very quickly reached a climax.
There was something magical about New York in December.
Almost everyone you came across had a slight spring in their step—not normally associated with the heavily corporate and tourist-driven state.
The countless lights and festive decorations added an elevated sparkle to an already bright city.
Leah struggled to think of a place that matched New York’s charm at Christmas.
From the Rockefeller Christmas tree to the dazzling store-front windows on Fifth Avenue, there was a show to put on for the world—and nobody did it better than NYC.
The corporate Christmas party was a week away.
Leah had been tasked with organising the event with two weeks’ notice and a fairly basic budget.
Before she could worry about the finer details, she had a back-to-back diary for two solid days.
Her father was adamant she join him for all his meetings in the run-up to Christmas, insistent on her learning the ropes.
He wouldn’t allude to a retirement plan, but Leah had a feeling he wanted to be free of suits, leather shoes, and unnecessary wrinkles within the next five years.
Leah could handle the people-relations side of things.
She could source new business, strategically plan for the future, take meetings, and articulate herself in a concise and educated manner; she was confident in her ability to get the job done for the most part.
However, running a company in such an ever-changing and fiercely competitive city required a person who could take risks—that was the part Leah struggled with.
The acceptance of uncertainty was a quality Leah didn’t possess.
It made her uneasy. She was confident and decisive when she needed to be, but was she bold enough to really acknowledge her fears and redefine failure?