17.
Ada
“What’s wrong?” I asked in concern. Jonathan was emitting an intense energy that put me on edge.
“Your car’s been fixed?” he responded.
“Yes. I told you so in my text. You didn’t have to—”
“You should still let Ben drive you. I don’t like your chances in such an old car. I’d feel better if you kept coming with us.”
I stared at him, sensing there was something more going on than he was saying. He ran his hand through his hair before gripping the back of his neck as though to dispel his agitation. Speaking of his hair, it was normally styled to perfection, but right now, it was all messed up, sticking in various directions.
“Jonathan, there’s nothing wrong with my car,” I said gently because he was clearly worked up. “I get it serviced every year, and it’s been reliable so far. Cars get dead batteries all the time. It doesn’t mean they’re destined for the scrap heap.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” he muttered under his breath, and the comment got my back up.
“Hey, just because you like to be driven around in a Porsche doesn’t mean the rest of us have to do the same. I enjoy the independence my car gives me, even if it is a little old.”
“At least let me get you something better,” he blurted, and I blinked at him. Get me something better? As in, buy me a car? It was official; he’d lost his mind.
There was something desperate in his eyes, and I didn’t understand why he was being so unhinged about this. To be perfectly honest, I often got the sense that my presence on his morning and evening commute was an annoyance he simply put up with. He should be delighted that the arrangement was coming to an end, not panicking as he appeared to be.
“Pardon?”
“Let me buy you a new car. You work hard. You deserve one. Your birthday’s coming up, right?”
I stared at him aghast. “What?”
“You heard me. I’ll get you a car. Any model you like.”
My heart raced anew. “Y-you’re being ridiculous. Friends don’t just buy each other cars for their birthdays.” No, that was something a loving and generous boyfriend or husband did. The very notion had my insides in a tailspin. I didn’t know what to say to him. In the end, I went with a simple, “Why are you acting so crazy about this?”
His expression sharpened as he stepped towards me. I suddenly became aware that I was naked beneath my robe, and Jonathan—though fully dressed—was wearing a lot less than his usual three-piece suit.
I gasped when his hands sank into my hair, his gaze, a little wild, holding mine captive. “Is it crazy not to want you stranded on the side of the road in a broken-down car?”
“Jonathan,” I whispered, my tone cautioning while my body turned to liquid under his touch, the way his fingers lightly massaged my skull and sent pleasurable shivers down my spine.
“And just so you know,” he went on, his voice a low caress as his eyes traced the line of my robe where my chest was heaving, breaths coming fast. “I would never be happy to see the back of you.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to buy me a c-car,” I countered, my voice still barely above a whisper.
“You make me feel …” he trailed off as though trying to think of the right word. “Off-kilter.”
“It’s not me,” I protested weakly. “You’re grieving. You’re not yourself.”
“I’m not so sure that’s it.” His gaze went to my lips before it slowly rose. “You aren’t going to give in on this car thing, are you?”
I lifted my chin and shook my head. Jonathan exhaled, his minty breath washing over my cheeks, his hands still in my hair causing my thighs to tremble. “Fine. But I’ll miss you in the mornings.”
“We live next door to one another. We’ll still see each other every day regardless.”
His head tilted, travelling down over my robe as though suddenly aware of how little I was wearing. “It’s not the same,” he muttered, one hand lowered from my hair to absentmindedly trace the edge of the robe. “Why are you wearing this?”
I cleared my throat. “I just ran a bath.”
Jonathan’s eyebrow quirked, his expression hot as a low groan escaped him. “I better leave you to it then.”
With that, he stepped back, and I missed his heat, his touch, so shockingly possessive. He walked to the door, and I found myself blurting his name, “Jonathan.”
He turned back, desire and curiosity all mingled in his gaze, causing my nipples to bead. Once again, he tilted his head. “Yes? Want some company in the bath?”
Oh, man, he was such a shameless flirt. I smirked at him and rolled my eyes. “It’s not your birthday this week, is it?”
“No.” He paused to take me in. “A shame.”
I chuckled before my expression softened as I studied his features. “Are you okay? Because how you reacted just now wasn’t normal.”
“It seems that when it comes to you, my reactions are anything but normal, Ada.”
I was still staring at him, trying to figure out exactly what he meant when he said a quiet, “Goodnight,” and left the apartment.
My head was all over the place when I finally walked into the bathroom, took off my robe and sank into the waiting water. I found my hand lightly tracing my neck, sifting through my hair where Jonathan had lightly gripped it. My nipples were still tight from how he’d stared at me. That stare told me that if I had been bold enough to invite him to share my bath, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Just thinking it had a fresh wave of arousal washing over me, and it took all my willpower not to give over to the fantasy of naked limbs and warm, soothing water. Not just any naked limbs, Jonathan’s and mine.
One thing was for certain, whatever was between the two of us, it wasn’t friendship. It almost felt like a joke for us to continue labelling ourselves as such, not when I suspected he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. But I would soldier on. If I were going to continue living here and also grant us the grace to grieve our parents, I had no other choice.
The next day, a grey cloud hung over my morning. I was no longer being driven to Pinebrook in Jonathan’s car, and I missed his company even though I knew I shouldn’t. My car being fixed was a good thing. I needed to be able to rely on my own mode of transport.
Then mid-morning, I received a call from Jeanette in Head Office requesting to know if we’d caught the petty cash thief yet. When I told her we hadn’t, she started talking about how Fabers was looking to offload their less profitable businesses and were considering selling a few of the care homes they operated. My stomach sank, fear taking hold, not merely because I, alongside the rest of the staff, would potentially have to find new jobs, but also because everyone who lived in Pinebrook would have to find new homes.
I tried to put that worry to the back of my mind. Even if Pinebrook was sold, it didn’t mean the place would be shut down. It might just mean a transfer of ownership. The problem in that scenario would be the new owners trying to drain every last drop of profit from the place, thus reducing the quality of care we could provide.
The third reason for my bad morning was that Lewis was officially on leave, and Hannah and another carer, Magdalena, both called in sick with the flu. It appeared to be going around. Sally, our receptionist, had it last week. I put in a request with our usual temp agency to have some people come in and cover the shifts but hadn’t heard anything back yet.
So, we were short staffed, which meant I had to leave my office duties for the day and take up the slack for our missing carers. The work wasn’t completely new to me since I’d been a carer for a couple months early in my career. I’d had to switch over to office work because of my leg injury. I just didn’t have the capability to do a job that had me on my feet all day. I was reminded of this when I was exhausted by the time I arrived home, my leg aching all over.
Ironically, today of all days I could’ve benefitted from being driven home with Jonathan.
I’d just finished eating dinner when I received a text from him.
Jonathan: Had to fly to London for a last-minute work thing. I’ll be gone for a few days, so we’ll have to do our nightly check-ins by text if that’s okay?
Reading his message, I felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. A few days wasn’t a long time, but I’d already missed seeing him that morning on the way to work and on my exhausted drive home. I tried not to let my despondency show in my response.
Ada: No worries! Thanks for letting me know. I hope your trip goes well.
The following day was much the same as the previous. Hannah and Magdalena were still out sick, and the temp agency had no people available to come cover their shifts, so I had to fill in again. I fell asleep almost as soon as I got home, a renewed respect for how hard the carers worked at Pinebrook. My job wasn’t easy, but I sat in front of a computer most of the day. Being on your feet was a whole other ballgame.
That night, just before I was about to fall asleep, my phone buzzed with a text.
Jonathan: Checking in. How was your day?
Ada: Tiring. Yours?
Jonathan: About the same. Get some rest. X
His sign-off kiss sent a flurry of butterflies swarming through my belly. That always happened whenever Jonathan showed me any kind of affection, even something as small as a kiss at the end of a text, which was vaguely troubling.
Ada: You too :-)
The next morning when I woke up, my leg ached from overdoing it the day before, and it was my birthday to boot. Thirty-eight and I was definitely feeling that extra year. I took a bath instead of a shower, hoping it would ease some of my leg pain. I also planned to down a painkiller or two with breakfast because if we were short staffed again, I was going to need some chemical assistance.
The warmth of the bath helped relax my muscles, and when I emerged from my room dressed for work, I got the strange sense that someone had been in the apartment. Then I spotted something colourful over on the kitchen countertop, and my breath caught. The most stunning bouquet of tulips sat there, blooms of every possible colour, accompanied by a card and a gift-wrapped box.
Who left this? Was Jonathan back from London already?
Opening the card, I found a short message.
Dear Ada,
Happy birthday. I’m sad I couldn’t be there to give you your gifts in person, but this will have to do.
Sincerely, Jonathan.
P.S. I had Therese come set everything up early this morning. I hope you don’t mind.
Inside the card, there was a voucher for a nearby health spa. It was a super swanky place, and though I enjoyed a good pampering, it felt like too much. When I lifted my head, something else caught my attention, and I realised there was a painting hanging on the wall in a spot that had previously been empty. It was the very same painting from Jonathan’s lobby, the one his sister’s husband had painted that I’d told him reminded me of Dad. A wave of emotion swept over me, a mixture of gratitude and grief. This was just … so thoughtful. I approached the painting, noting it sat perfectly in the spot Jonathan had chosen for it. My heart shimmered as I gazed at the moody landscape that brought me back to childhood, the good years before Dad’s drinking started to put a strain on our family.
By the coffee table, there was a small carrier bag, and I recognised the items I’d gone to Leonora’s to collect several weeks ago, back when I was sleeping in my car. The bag contained all Dad’s old photo albums, though I wasn’t ready to look through them yet. It also had his collection of Casio watches. They weren’t worth much, but the brand was Dad’s favourite, and he’d kept every watch he’d bought over the years.
Stepping back to the counter, I admired the tulips once again, touched that Jonathan remembered me mentioning they were my favourites. My dad was normally the one to send me tulips on my birthday, and Jonathan must’ve known the first year without him was going to be tough for me. To distract myself, I focused on the final gift. I picked up the box and unwrapped it, my pulse hammering when I realised it was jewellery. Then I gasped when I saw the prettiest pair of diamond studs. They were small, delicate almost, but not so ostentatious I couldn’t wear them every day. They glittered in the box, and my throat thickened with unshed tears. Jonathan was a busy man who’d been called away on a work trip, but he’d still made sure to get me several birthday presents. Not to mention, he had his assistant hand deliver everything to my apartment so it was there when I woke up.
I couldn’t deny it anymore. I had feelings for him. Feelings I suspected were reciprocated if his display the other night was anything to go by. He was distraught that I wouldn’t be sharing car rides with him any longer. The entire time he’d been arguing with me about my car, it had felt like he’d been trying hard not to kiss me.
Fear clutched me then because I’d never been with a man like Jonathan. He was so far from my usual type that it was almost laughable. Being with a man like him would be new to me in every way.
Forcing myself to go make coffee and put something together for breakfast, I approached the kitchen when my phone started ringing. I stared at the screen, seeing Jonathan’s name, but I was too overwhelmed to speak to him yet. In the end, I let it go to voicemail.
Unsure how to feel about the gifts, I decided to ask my sister’s opinion. Snapping a quick picture of the flowers and earrings, I texted her and included the photo.
Ada: If your landlord/friend sent you this for your birthday, how would you feel?
After grabbing a quick bite to eat and taking some painkillers, I set off for work, only checking my phone when I arrived at my office.
Frances: Oh my gosh! How did he know to get you tulips? And are those diamond earrings? Did something else happen between you two?
Ada: Aside from a whole lot of unexplored sexual tension, nothing.
Frances: I don’t know about this. That’s a girlfriend gift. Or a gift for a person you’re really trying to shag. Maybe you should return the earrings. Otherwise, he might get the wrong impression.
Ada: But they’re so pretty.
Frances: Then be a messy bitch and keep them.
I chuckled at her response, but my amusement soon faded, quickly replaced with apprehension. Frances was right, the painting and spa voucher were one thing, but I couldn’t keep the earrings. They screamed expensive. A few minutes later my phone rang, Jonathan’s name once again displayed on the screen. Biting my lip, I decided to face the music and hit answer, lifting the phone to my ear.
“Hello.”
“Ada, happy birthday.” His voice was warm and husky. “Did you receive my gifts?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, my words unexpectedly breathy. “The flowers are beautiful, but the earrings and the spa voucher, the painting … it’s all far too much. I can’t accept them.”
“Why not? You deserve them,” his voice pitched lower. “Especially if no one else in your life is going to get you anything as nice.”
“You know why I can’t, Jonathan,” I replied pointedly. “It’s inappropriate.”
A heavy silence followed, then he finally replied, “I see.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” A pause. “Keep the gifts, Ada. Inappropriate or not, they’re already paid for, and I’d rather not inconvenience Therese by having her return them. We’ll put it down to an error of judgement on my part, and I’ll remember not to buy you such extravagant items in future.”
“Jonathan, I can’t—”
“I have a meeting. I need to go. Have a good birthday, Ada.”
He hung up, and I sat staring at my phone, feeling like I’d messed up the conversation. He’d sounded offended that I’d refused his gifts, and now, it felt like he was mad at me. Ugh, I should’ve been clearer with my meaning. I just wanted him to know that he didn’t need to buy me things in order to woo me. Despite my best efforts to resist the draw between us, I was already wooed, gifts or no gifts. Plus, being a wealthy man, his past relationships probably centred around extravagant gifts and trips to health spas, but those things just weren’t me. Honestly, the flowers and the painting meant more to me than the earrings or the spa day.
I tried to push the call with Jonathan from my mind as I focused on work. As expected, we were still short staffed. I’d been on to the agency again about sending some temp workers, but they were in high demand since the flu was affecting lots of care home staff, and everyone was running on a skeleton crew. It was a good thing I’d had the flu a couple months ago so my immunity was still high.
I spent my birthday rushed off my feet, picking up the slack for our absent workers.
The only saving grace was the big slab of Victoria sponge cake I got at the end of the day, courtesy of Rina, and we all received larger than expected portions since so many people were out sick. That evening, Frances came over, and we ordered Chinese food and held a movie marathon. My sister oohed and aahed over how fancy the apartment was, and she was a little hesitant to make herself comfortable at first, but as soon as I told her Jonathan was away for work and wouldn’t be stopping by unannounced, she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the sofa.
I knew he was back from his trip the following morning when I spotted his car leaving just as I was headed out of the building. He’d sent a text to check in the night before, but it was curt and without the usual pleasantries. If he were home, why hadn’t he come in person like he normally did? I worried he really was offended that I didn’t want to accept his birthday gifts and that was why he hadn’t shown. Then again, his flight could’ve gotten in late. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to disturb me.
I discovered this wasn’t the case when the next two evenings passed, and Jonathan continued checking in by text. His absence left me with raw emotions, while his gifts remained sitting on the kitchen counter, a reminder of the fact that he was avoiding me. These emotions combined with my physical exhaustion from being overworked came to a head the following day.
Yet another two employees had come down with the flu, and we were all running on fumes. By the time I arrived home, my leg was so sore, and I was so tired that I had to just sit in my car for a few minutes to drum up the energy to walk the few yards to the apartment building. I’d also left my cane in my office, which meant getting inside was going to be even more of a struggle. I resigned myself to sitting there until I felt a little better, and of course, I ended up falling asleep.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d drifted off for when suddenly I found myself woken by a knock on the window. I startled and glanced out. Jonathan was there, glaring down at me.
“Unlock the door,” his muffled voice commanded, and still foggy headed from exhaustion, I did as requested. He yanked the door open and bent down so we were at eye level.
“Hey,” I said, feeling awkward as I absently massaged my sore leg. “Thanks for waking me. There’s a flu going around, and we’ve been short-staffed at work all week.” I paused, chagrined. “Hence why I fell asleep out here. I didn’t mean to.”
Jonathan frowned, then his expression softened when he glanced at my leg. “Can you walk? Where’s your cane?”
I grimaced. “I left it in my office. I’ll be okay, though. Just need a few more minutes to rest it.”
“You can’t stay out here any longer. You’ll catch your death.”
Without asking permission, he reached past me to gather my coat and bag. He slung both over his shoulder and then hefted me into his arms. His hands went under my legs and around my waist, and instinctively, I wrapped my arms about his neck to keep from falling, my heart jackhammering in my chest.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Deftly, he reached down, pulled out my car keys, kicked shut the door, then hit the locks. “What does it look like?” he answered before proceeding to carry me into the building.