Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Wound tight as she eased onto one of the velvet couches, Jo closed her eyes and tried to focus on anything other than Amelia.
She’d struggled all day. The early evening hadn’t been much better.
But she was here now, seated beside Ada in the soft, low-lit calm of the club, praying she could forget, even if only for a couple of hours.
Her only hope now was that Lia would be where she usually was. In the dark room.
But even that didn’t feel certain tonight. Jo hadn’t filled out her usual paperwork on arrival. She hadn’t brought it to the table either. The hesitation had crept in the moment she’d stepped through the door, and now it sat heavy in her chest.
She still felt awful for blowing Amelia off, for…choosing this place over a quiet dinner somewhere warm and familiar with someone who knew her. And maybe that was the problem. Amelia knew her. Lia didn’t.
“There’s no use being stuck in your own head in here, Jo,” Ada said, leaning in and squeezing her knee. “Relax and enjoy yourself. You should be used to switching off in here by now.”
Jo exhaled, trying to shift the weight from her shoulders. “I can’t get her out of my fucking head, Ada.”
Ada offered her a soft, knowing smile. “You need to let one of them go.”
God. That thought made Jo miserable instantly.
How was she supposed to let Amelia go after everything they’d shared lately?
The comfort, the connection, the things said.
And how could she let Lia go after the most mind-blowing, anonymous encounters she’d ever allowed herself?
After finally feeling seen, in some strange way, without being seen at all?
Why did it have to be this way?
“I don’t know how to do that,” Jo admitted. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Well, you have to do something. This isn’t healthy.”
Oh, Jo knew that. She knew it deep in her gut, in the way her heart ached every time she thought about Amelia’s face, or the sound of Lia’s voice in the dark.
It didn’t change the fact that she felt like she was moving forward for the first time in months, instead of being stuck in the same old cycle of guilt and shame and not being enough.
And it was all because of two women she couldn’t have.
“Things will be okay. I’ve been through worse.”
“In that case,” Ada stood, brushing invisible lint from her dress, “I’m going to get you the dark room form and another drink.”
Jo looked up, grateful for her best friend’s steady presence, even when her own mind felt like quicksand.
“Same again?” Ada asked.
“Yes, please.”
Ada returned a few minutes later, carrying two drinks and no slip of paper. She set the drinks down first, then offered Jo a small smile.
Jo frowned. “What?”
“Apparently.” Ada sat back down and cleared her throat. “No one’s taken the dark rooms tonight. Not a single person signed in.”
Jo froze. “Wait, what?”
“Yep. Even the receptionist was surprised. I asked twice in case she hadn’t heard me right the first time.”
“So, Lia’s not here.” Jo’s fingers tightened around the base of her glass when Ada shook her head.
The ache that followed was immediate and disorienting.
Jo hadn’t expected to feel actual sadness at not seeing Lia.
And now she was left with an emptiness she couldn’t reason with.
She wasn’t just disappointed. No, she felt foolish…
untethered. As though she’d bet on something that never really existed in the first place.
And maybe it hadn’t.
Jo leaned forward, her elbows braced on her knees.
“I’ve been pining over a woman I don’t even know, Ada.
Not really. I don’t know what she looks like, and I don’t know her real name.
I don’t know anything beyond the sound of her voice and the way she makes me feel for an hour at a time in the dark. ”
Ada’s gaze was fixed firmly on Jo.
“I’ve been choosing her over Amelia,” Jo whispered as she shook her head. “Avoiding dinner, avoiding a real connection, just in case Lia showed up.” Jo scoffed as she sat back against the couch. “What the fuck am I doing?”
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Ada said as she took Jo’s hand. “You’ve been hurting. You simply reached for what gave you comfort.”
“It’s not just about comfort anymore.” Jo stared down at her drink. “I keep thinking that maybe if I just get one more night with Lia, I’ll figure it all out. Maybe she’ll say something, or I will, and I’ll finally understand why I can’t get her out of my head.”
Ada frowned. “Do you think it’s about her…or about avoiding Amelia?”
Jo flinched. Because that was the real question, wasn’t it?
She inhaled a shaky breath. “I should have said yes to dinner with Amelia. I’ve been putting her off and telling myself it’s for the best, but it’s not. I miss her. She’s just that kind of woman.”
“Then maybe it’s time to ask yourself why you’re holding back.”
“You know why, Ada.” Jo’s voice cracked. “Because she’s Callum’s mum, and if I get this wrong, I’ll lose her. I can’t lose her.”
Ada’s gaze softened.
“I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself it’s Lia that I want because she doesn’t come with any history or consequence.
She’s just a feeling and a fantasy. Something that doesn’t tip over into my real life.
But Amelia?” Jo swallowed. “She’s real. She matters most.” She glanced down at her glass and sighed.
“When you told me nobody had booked a room tonight, I felt empty. Like I’d wasted something.
As though I’d put all this hope into a woman who doesn’t even know me outside of that room. ”
Ada leaned in. “Maybe Lia was just the safest choice for you. Maybe she was just a way for you to feel in control.”
Jo nodded slowly. “And Amelia is the risk.”
“The risk that matters.”
Jo stared at the ceiling, blinking back the tears in her eyes.
“She makes me feel seen, Ada. Not just in the moments that are easy, but in the hard ones, too. Like she understands me even when I’m a mess.
And I know this is all messy. I know it’s complicated.
But I keep thinking about her hands around her coffee cup, or the way she looks at me when I say something stupid, and I just—” Jo laughed quietly.
“She’s important to me. More than I’ve wanted to admit for a long time. ”
“Do you think she feels the same?”
“I don’t know,” Jo whispered. “Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes it feels like she does, but she pulls back, too. Like she’s scared of it just as much as I am.”
“Then maybe you need to be the brave one,” Ada said, regarding her with a small, encouraging smile. “Someone has to be.”
Jo nodded slowly, but that ache remained in her chest. What if it was already too late?
She picked up her phone out of habit, not expecting anything. But as she unlocked it, her breath caught. Amelia had sent her a message.
I was sitting here thinking about how I reacted to you earlier in the week when you turned down dinner. I’m sorry. I don’t know if you decided to go to Satin tonight or not, but I hope you get out of it what you need. Be safe x
Jo stared at the screen, the words blurring slightly as they settled in. The message was simple, soft…and far too personal. She closed her eyes. Of course the one woman she was trying to stop thinking about was the one who sent her that kind of message when her guard was already down.
“Another message?” Ada asked.
Jo handed her the phone in silence.
“Well, you certainly have your work cut out, trying to figure all of this out. I don’t envy you.” Ada sank back on the couch and sighed. “But I’m here for you, and I always will be.”
Jo exhaled a calming breath and leaned her head back against a cushion. “I know. I appreciate it.”
Amelia sat cross-legged on the couch, a half-finished glass of red in one hand, her phone resting on the cushion beside her as the wind howled outside.
The TV played something she wasn’t watching, purely for the background noise and to stop her from going over everything in her mind.
Tonight, she’d made a decision to not attend Satin.
Tonight, she had made the decision to not be Lia.
Her laptop was still open on the coffee table, plans for a derelict townhouse sitting on the screen.
Another renovation. Another ‘opportunity’.
She’d spent most of the week reviewing surveyor reports, hiring contractors, and finalising the deal on a converted Victorian terrace she’d been eyeing for months.
The bones were good, and the area was even better.
It was close enough to the centre but still quiet, tucked away behind a row of mature trees and garden walls.
It should have excited her; this was the kind of project she loved sinking her teeth into, but lately, even success felt flat. All she ever seemed to be doing was working or…wasting time. At Satin. In the dark.
She drew in a slow breath and swirled the wine in her glass.
She wasn’t proud of what she’d been doing there, but she wasn’t ashamed either.
She’d spent years pushing herself to be composed, professional, and respectable.
Someone that people—especially her son—could rely on.
But that came at a price. No one ever asked her what she wanted.
Least of all Amelia, herself. But she only had herself to blame.
If she hadn’t allowed her past to dictate her future, she could have been in a much different position.
And now? Now, she was fifty-four and sleeping with strangers in the dark, clutching at a connection she should never have allowed.
Jo.
It had been three days since Jo had chosen the club over dinner. It had been three days since Jo had chosen Lia to spend the evening with rather than Amelia. And while Amelia had told herself she was okay with that, that she had no right to be upset…the truth was far messier.
She didn’t want Jo to pick Lia.
She wanted Jo to pick her.
But that wasn’t possible, was it? They’d agreed.
She had drawn a line under whatever was simmering between them because it was the right thing to do.
Because it would have been selfish not to.
Because Amelia couldn’t face the potential tremendous loss if they went there, and she ultimately fucked it all up with Jo.
Only everything was blurred now. Lines had been crossed, and words that couldn’t be unsaid had been spoken. And then, after telling herself she would lessen contact with Jo this week after being blown off when it came to dinner plans, she had stupidly sent her a text an hour ago.
Amelia reached for her phone. As she lit up the screen, a new message appeared.
If you’re free tomorrow evening, I’d really like to do dinner with you after my shoot. I’ll be finished by four. Let me know x
The world stopped moving for a second, and her wine glass stilled in her hand. She read the message again, then again, and finally a fourth time, just to be sure she hadn’t imagined it. The little x at the end undid her completely.
Jo wanted dinner.
Jo…was choosing her.
Amelia sat back slowly against the cushions, her phone clutched in both hands.
She wanted to reply immediately. She wanted to reply with something along the lines of ‘God, yes, of course. I’ll cancel everything, I’ll cook, I’ll buy wine, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go’, but she knew she couldn’t.
Because this was nothing more than dinner between two people.
So, she had to play it cool and keep it neutral. This thing between them… It couldn’t flare into something more.
Still, her fingers trembled slightly as she typed out a response.
That sounds lovely. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.
No kisses at the end. No gushing enthusiasm. Just calm, casual, and friendly.
But then her chest tightened as she set her phone aside. Because she knew it would never feel that simple with Jo ever again.
She wasn’t Lia tonight. She was herself. And Jo was choosing her.
As Amelia swallowed, she realised that changed everything.