Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Ben
“I’ll speak to you later then. If you need anything…”
I turn to leave, walking toward the door slower than usual, hesitating every few steps, hoping she’ll say something. Anything. Just enough to tempt me to stop and turn back around.
At the door, I pause again and glance over my shoulder. Antonia is already typing on her laptop, pretending I’m not even there. I open the door and leave, closing it quietly behind me.
For a moment, I’m tempted to slam it. But that might be slightly pathetic for a man pushing fifty.
The rain is falling heavily outside. It’s grown worse as the day’s gone on. A bit like my mood. A bit like the way the whole day turned out.
Except for our near kiss in the office, when she invited me closer.
Her asking me to kiss her made everything soar.
I wanted her more than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time.
I unlock my car door and slide inside, closing it behind me.
Rain drums hard against the roof, louder than rock music.
I turn the key, and the engine purrs to life.
Everything feels cold.
My hands.
My feet.
Home is where I want to be.
I glance back toward the site office. The light is still on, but there’s no sign of her. She didn’t come after me.
That stings.
The accelerator sinks below my foot, and I pull away.
The road home is quiet. Most people are done for the day, back home having dinner with their families. Mine’s no different. The boys will be waiting for me after their day at school.
As I walk through my front door, the usual pair of chaos greets me. Ollie and Liam are arguing over something stupid on the television—probably a video game or some YouTube video they’re watching. The place is a mess, with school bags are strewn across the floor, and shoes kicked off in the corner.
“Right,” I say, dropping my keys on the counter. “Time to get some things in order. Boys, what are you up to?”
They both come trundling through the house like a pair of elephants crossing the African plains.
“Hey, Dad! What’s for dinner?” Ollie calls.
I laugh. The joys of being a single parent. Everything lands on you.
“Did either of you think to check the fridge?”
“Nah,” they say together. “We just waited for you.”
Then they run off again, laughing now. I stare at the kitchen for a moment before wandering over to the fridge and pulling out whatever’s there. Scrambled egg on toast. That’ll have to do them today. No complaints taken by the kitchen.
I crack the first egg, sliding it into the bowl. The shell shatters badly, pieces falling straight into the mixture. Ugh. I hate when that happens.
I fish out the shards, my fingers ending up dripping with egg. After washing my hands, I grab the whisk and start beating the eggs, adding milk as I go. Ollie reappears. “So,” he says, leaning against the counter, “how was the day after the big date?”
I snort. I can’t exactly launch into a monologue with my teenage son about why dating is such a pointless task—or how women change their minds so readily.
What happened in the site office this evening was so different from earlier.
Her need for me disappearing, and her defenses rising once more. It’s a whiplash I don’t want.
“Come on, Dad,” he presses. “What did she say? What did she do? What did you do?”
“Nothing,” I tell him. “It was all business today.”
“Hmm,” Liam says, appearing behind him. “Sounds like trouble in paradise, don’t you think, bro?”
Ollie laughs. “He can’t have messed it up that quickly, can he?”
“Well,” Liam says with a shrug, “he hasn’t dated in a long time. He must be out of practice.”
“You two shut up,” I say, pointing the whisk at them. “And set the table.”
They disappear, still laughing. I keep stirring the eggs, wondering if they might actually be right.
Maybe I did do something wrong today.
Maybe I did something that made Antonia uncomfortable.
Last night at the restaurant, when we met, things had been awkward to start with, but once we moved past the business talk and started discovering each other, everything shifted.
I got to know her. Saw her beyond the CEO with a spine of steel who runs boardrooms like battlefields. Beyond the woman who randomly wears pink wellies when you least expect it.
I got to see her.
And what I saw, I really liked.
And what I tasted of her… I liked even more.
Maybe I should reach out. Speak to her away from work. But she said it wasn’t the time or the place. Then again, we’re not in that time or place anymore.
It’s two hours later. I’m at home. And I assume she’s at her place.
Although I suspect she spends more time at the office than she lets on. Every time I’m there, I notice that sofa bed. The crushed cushion. The sheet that peeks out from underneath.
She probably thinks I haven’t seen it. But I have. And the only reason to keep a sofa bed in your office is if you sleep there. The only reason to sleep in your office is if you’ve got nothing waiting for you at home.
I think of Christmas Day, when I saw her in the graveyard beside her son’s grave.
Me beside my wife’s. But I have my son. I can hold him, laugh with him, still find something good in the day. I suspect Antonia doesn’t have that.
That cuts deeper than I want to admit.
***
We sit down to eat. Liam tops off the waters while Ollie sits down and immediately shovels scrambled egg and toast into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten all day. Which, knowing him, he might not have—especially if his brother hasn’t fed him. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The conversation drifts across the usual things: school, tests, what’s happened during the day.
Halfway through dinner, my phone rings. Savannah.
I ignore it.
Right now I’m having dinner with her brothers. I’ll catch up with her later. I send a quick message to say I’ll call her back soon.
Part of me hoped it was Antonia calling. That she wanted to talk. Deal with the issue we had.
Liam clears his throat. “So, Dad,” he says, “are you going to see Antonia again?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“But you said yesterday went so well.”
“Things aren’t always that clear-cut.” I aim for relaxed but come across as defensive.
He nods, half accepting the answer, half already losing interest as he goes back to his food.
I glance at my phone again. Maybe I should message her.
It doesn’t feel right leaving things like this.
I know I don’t want to leave things like this.
Even though we’ve only known each other less than a year, and this… whatever this is has only really shifted in the last few weeks—it still feels like there’s something here we could lose.
Later in life, you don’t meet people the way you do when you’re younger. You’re not out there searching for the next partner, hoping to live a love story again.
I had my partner.
I had my life.
So when someone comes along who I can actually see myself with. Someone I connect with. Someone I respect. It feels worth fighting for.
Worth winning.
But she has to feel the same.
And today she stepped away from me. She built a wall so high, I’m not sure we can even see over it anymore.
Sure, business and personal life have to stay separate. But sooner or later, those things always intertwine. Whether you want them to or not.
I type a quick message. No one ever won by being shy.
I don’t like how today was left. Can we talk?
My phone barely touches the table when it pings.
Sure. Come over.
That was quick. Unexpected.
To Opengate?
The reply comes almost immediately.
I’m at home. Come here.
“What is it?” Ollie says. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, standing up. “I just need to pop out.”
The boys glance at each other but don’t comment. They know when not to pry.
“You two finish up,” I tell them. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Okay, Dad,” Ollie replies. His eyes move to his brother as he grins wide. “Xbox marathon?”
I grab my keys and head for the door.
She’s just invited me to her home. To talk.
***
As I pull up outside her apartment, I cut the engine, pull down the visor, and glance in the mirror. Christ, I look tired. I didn’t even bother fixing myself before leaving the house, so eager to get here.
I exhale slowly.
My stomach twists hard. I really hope this goes well. I hope she’s not about to use this as an opportunity to tell me we can’t do this again.
After I look up at the apartment windows, I sit for a minute. She doesn’t appear. Not the way she did last night when I was driving away. It was nice then, seeing her standing up there. She cared enough to watch me leave.
But she’s not there now. Not waiting. Perhaps this is an invitation to confirm we’ve ended before whatever we are has even begun.
I step out of the car, lock it, then walk over to the buzzer.
There are four apartments in the block. Her name—Cole—is the top one.
I press it.
The door buzzes open.
She doesn’t say anything through the intercom, so I just step inside.
The stairs feel heavy beneath my feet. Every step takes effort.
As keen as I was to come here, I’m also terrified of the truth: that maybe, after today, she considers taking a chance on us is too much of a risk.
And she prefers keeping work and life separate.
That boardrooms are not dating agencies.
It seems to take forever to reach her apartment on the second floor.
When I get there, she’s already standing in the doorway. Waiting for me. Complete with pale pink sweats, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. Hair loose around her shoulders. It suits her.
It’s not the Antonia from the office.
Not the Antonia I met at the restaurant.
This is someone different. Tired. Withdrawn. Even vulnerable.
But undoubtedly attractive. The way the material gives way to her curves sends my thoughts wild. Places not suited to where our relationship is now.