Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
IONA
“I’m back!” I close the front door behind me. “Sorry I’m late.”
For several seconds there’s no response, then Richard says, “Through here.” He sounds weary.
I plonk down my gym bag then head through to the dining room. He’s by himself at the table, an empty plate in front of him, a few crumbs the only remainder of his dinner. At my usual spot is a plate of food that has long since gone cold.
“Oh, I didn’t realise you were going to serve dinner. Sorry. My quick after-work gym session ended up being a much longer session—I thought it might undo some of the damage the wine did last night.” It’s a joke, and to be fair, the corners of Richard’s mouth twitch, only the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“It’s fine.” The despondency in his tone suggests it isn’t.
Attempting to stay upbeat, I walk over to my seat and inspect the grub: chicken breasts stuffed with haggis and served with whisky sauce, mashed potatoes, and veg. “Oh, wow, Balmoral chicken—nice. Did Maw make this earlier?”
“Nah, I did. She gave me the recipe, though.”
Shit. He went to the effort of preparing something special, and I didn’t even show up on time to eat it. Guilt gnaws at me.
“You should have called.” No sooner do I say it than I remember I put my phone in my bag before my workout and then stuffed my bag in my locker. I haven’t taken it out to check it since. “Ah, you did, didn’t you? But I didn’t have my phone on me.” I give him a sheepish grin. “What am I like?”
He gives a wee smile, and this time there’s a little more warmth behind it. “Really, it’s fine. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you, but I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, and I got hungry. I’ll heat up your plate for you. I don’t know if it’ll taste as good, but hopefully it’s okay.” He stands.
“I can—”
“I’ve got this. You sit.”
I do and he picks up my plate and starts towards the kitchen, but then—turning back—he leans in and plants a quick kiss on my cheek.
“It’s good to see you. I feel I’ve barely spent any time with you the last few days.”
That’s been by deliberate design, of course, but now I just feel even more guilty. I am touched by his gesture of preparing dinner, and with his face so close to mine, my gaze lowers to his mouth and I wonder...
Gently I cup his jaw and guide him closer, our lips meeting in a soft kiss. I wait for the spark, the flutter of excitement, but nothing comes. Nothing at all.
I pull back and force a smile. “It’s good to see you too.”
He flashes me a grin then straightens. “You must be hungry. I’ll be right back.” He disappears into the kitchen, and the beep of buttons is soon followed by the soft hum of the microwave. A few minutes later, it pings and Richard returns, laying the plate in front of me once more.
“Bon appétit. I hope it tastes all right reheated.”
He joins me at the table, watching me, and so I duly lift my knife and fork and tuck in. The chicken is still flavourful, but it’s dry in places and slightly tough to chew, while the haggis isn’t as rich as it should be. The mash isn’t bad—it retains some of its creaminess—but the vegetables are a write-off. They’re soggy and bland.
“It’s delicious,” I say. A white lie, but I’m sure the dish would have been delicious had I eaten it when I was supposed to.
He’s pleased by the compliment.
“So...” I promised Maisie I’d have an honest and open discussion with Richard about how I’ve been feeling. With Maw away, this is a good time to do it, but how to begin?
Richard broaches the subject before I can. “You were at the gym on Monday evening, out for drinks yesterday, and then at the gym again today. Should I be worried you’re trying to avoid me?”
I take my time chewing on a piece of chicken before swallowing. “I’ve... maybe been finding it a little much, living here with you and Maw seven days a week,” I admit eventually.
“Right. Except your mum is at the restaurant tonight, so is it really just me you’re having a hard time living with?”
It’d be so easy to deflect this question. I could argue that a lot of boyfriends would approve of their women going to the gym and keeping healthy, or else that couples don’t have to spend every minute of their evenings and weekends together. But I’m not trying to win an argument. No, the aim is to be honest with Richard about some of the doubts that have been going through my head.
“Well, it has been a bit of an... adjustment, going from spending a few nights with you when we were in Glasgow to living with you full time like this.”
He nods diplomatically. “Fair enough.” Then he adds, “Was Lewis at the gym tonight?”
The question takes me by surprise. “No. He helps Maw in the restaurant on Wednesdays.”
“Okay. It’s just by all accounts you and him got on well at the Pheasant yesterday, at your girls’ night.”
I chew my bottom lip. So he’s heard about that. I should have realised he would: word travels fast around this town, always has. With hindsight, getting up with Lewis and singing “Comin’ thro’ the Rye” wasn’t my greatest idea. I blame the wine.
“It really was a girls’ night,” I assure him. “I wasn’t expecting Lewis to show up, and we didn’t chat for long. But...” If I’m going to be honest with Richard, there’s something I should confess. “Lewis was at the gym on Monday. Trust me, that was a complete coincidence, and I wasn’t happy to see him when I spotted him.”
“Wow.” Richard drums his fingers on the table. “So you’ve barely seen me the last few days, but you’ve seen your ex twice? I actually went to the hotel earlier to have a chat with him. I wanted to get his take on what the deal is between the pair of you. And do you know what he told me? He said he still has feelings for you, Iona. The last thing I want is to be some awful overbearing boyfriend, but can you understand why it’s pretty difficult for me to hear you’ve been spending time with someone you have a sexual history with and who still has feelings for you?”
A lump forms in my throat. “Aye, I do get that can’t be easy.” I could argue that I didn’t plan to meet Lewis at the gym or the Pheasant, and that would be true. Then again, I could— should —have done more to shoo him away.
“And bloody hell, the guy literally couldn’t live any closer. We can see into his bedroom from your window.”
I put down my knife and fork. I can’t eat any more, not because the food is dry but because of the knot that’s forming in my stomach. “The whole situation is a mess. I’m so sorry. I really do feel terrible about it.”
He studies me for a while, then his gaze softens. “The past is in the past. What concerns me more is the future. I can cope with Lewis still having feelings for you—that’s not something you or I have any control over. What I want to know is if you still have feelings for him.”
I don’t reply to this straight away but take a bit of time to formulate my thoughts. “What you have to understand, Richard,” I say eventually, “is he’s not just some ex I can forget about. Long before we hooked up, he was a huge part of my life, a constant throughout my childhood and teens. When I think of a happy memory from my younger days, chances are Lewis is in it because he was always there. We went to school together, and in our free time we hung out together. To this day our families still have meals together, and Ally, Jamie, and Cat are like cousins to me—hell, I’m probably closer to them than a lot of people are to their actual cousins. It would be hard for me to feel nothing for Lewis, but... well, you know how things ended between us.”
Richard gives a curt nod. “I do. But I don’t want you to be with me because you’d really like to be with Lewis, but you can’t forgive him for what he did, so I’m an okay second choice. I want you to be with me because you actually want to be with me.”
These words hit me harder than they probably should. “Of course. I get that. And...” I take a deep breath. “I want to lay all my cards on the table—I want to be as open with you as I can. So let’s put Lewis aside and focus on you and me. You’re a great guy, Richard, but... I have been having some doubts lately about whether we’re a good fit.”
Pain flickers in his eyes, and I can’t help but wince. This is tough—I’ve no wish to hurt him.
“That’s not to say I want to end things,” I add. “I just... well, we’ve been together for almost eighteen months now, so it’s natural to be looking at the relationship and thinking, Am I happy with everything? Is this the person I want to spend the rest of my life with? I’m sure you’ve been having similar thoughts?”
He doesn’t say anything. Okay, so maybe he hasn’t been having similar thoughts.
“We have a lot in common,” I say. “We share a lot of the same values, and our life goals are pretty compatible. But there are also differences between us, as there should be—no two people are identical, and it’d be boring if they were. But I’ve been asking myself how significant those differences are, and...” I shrug. “For me, the big thing is I’d like a bit more excitement in my life. I’m worried we’re already getting a little too settled, a little too stuck in a routine, and I’m not ready for that. I want to be surprised, to be swept off my feet. And honestly, that includes in our sex life. It’s becoming pretty predictable, and I’m someone who needs to keep things fresh, exciting, and spontaneous. I’ve just not been feeling the passion recently—not in the bedroom, and not in other parts of our relationship either.”
Am I being too honest with him now? But no, we have to be able to talk about these things, don’t we? I no longer have that urge to tear Richard’s clothes off and jump into bed with him, probably because our sex life has become so monotonous that it’s hard to get excited about it. And he doesn’t seem to have that burning desire to touch me and make passionate love either. But... I want to be with someone who struggles to control themselves around me! Last night, in the Pheasant, when I spilled that water over myself and was trying my best to dry off my chest with tissues, I spotted something in Lewis’s gaze, a look I once knew well. He had to tear his eyes away and stare at the fire because he was getting turned on.
When we were seeing each other, I’d pride myself on how easily I could get Lewis going. He could be chilling, watching TV or scrolling on his phone, completely relaxed. But with a single sultry glance, or a few teasing words, I could have him shifting uncomfortably and then tugging at the front of his jeans, his dick snapping to attention like a soldier ready for duty. You know the way they talk about cars: zero to sixty in four point three seconds? I should really have grabbed a stopwatch and timed how quickly I could make Lewis hard—because it was blink-and-you-miss-it fast.
Of course, we were younger then, but based on how he reacted to me dabbing my top, I reckon I could still get him in the mood any time I wanted to— if I wanted to, which I don’t. But in any case, I don’t seem to have that same power over Richard, and he doesn’t have it over me.
Richard scratches his arm. “Well, obviously that isn’t an easy thing to hear,” he says eventually, “but I appreciate you being honest with me. We’re clearly on rocky ground at the moment, but I’m glad you’re talking openly with me about things rather than making any hasty decisions. How about, this weekend, I organise something fun and exciting for us? Let’s see if we can’t move past this. All right?”
“Aye.” I offer a tentative smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with.”