Chapter Ten
Alfie
What am I doing? The candles? The dinner…
I had bought wine especially but hid it in the cupboard before Mia arrived.
I need to get a grip on reality. I have lived by a guiding set of principles, and they haven't failed me in ten years. Was I really questioning them now? I know Mia is worth it. Worth the time and effort a boyfriend or husband should give. I just don’t know that I can be that person for her.
How will it go when we’re both working full time, focusing on our patients and not on our relationship?
I’d hate myself if I made her unhappy. I’d hate myself even more if one of my patients suffered as a consequence.
I don’t think I could survive it if something like that happened again.
And I know for sure that the help I received from my father wouldn’t be offered twice.
I’d have to deal with it alone this time, and then what would I do?
What excuse would I have if I allowed myself to become distracted again, just like last time?
Mia’s cheeks are rosy, pinched high up by her eyes from the wide smile she’s giving me. She swigs her beer again, and I almost reach my hand across the table to take hers in mine, but thankfully she leans back and pats her stomach.
“That was a hit. They’re gonna love it at the next dinner party.” She licks her fork one more time before placing it on the plate. “Why do you call it a dinner party, anyway? It’s clearly a night you all let loose and drink.”
“When we were fresh out of our doctorate programs, we wanted to seem sophisticated.” I shrug. “It seemed like the fanciest thing we could do at the time, but I won’t lie. Every night we’ve done one, it’s descended into some sort of chaos.”
“And Katie and Jonesy…they’re what?”
“Not together. They’ve never both been single long, and they always seem to miss each other by a few months.
Every now and then, they’ll introduce the group to their new boyfriend or girlfriend.
Once the evening progresses and they fall into their usual routine of bickering, the relationships never last much longer. ”
“So even whoever they’re dating can see their chemistry.”
“Right. But when we were younger, they both outright refused to admit they liked each other. And so it became a battle of wills as to who could bring the most accomplished person to Dinner Club. Katie once brought a European prince, who was living in the US for some diplomatic reason. The next month, Jonesy brought an Olympic gold medal-winning gymnast.”
“Oof, I bet that went down well.”
“They ended up in a screaming match and nearly wrestling on the floor. Safe to say we never saw the prince or the gymnast again. I think they ended up dating for a while, though.”
She smiles, peeling the label off the side of the bottle.
Caleb once told me that when someone starts peeling the label off their beer bottle, it means they’re sexually frustrated.
He did tell me this when we were nineteen and complete morons though, so I can’t confirm the validity of that statement.
But the thought of her pent up and needy, giving in to me as I slide deep inside her, tending to the tension that’s been growing between us for weeks, maybe longer.
It’s like an ache. At least for me it is.
Some insatiable need to fill her almost overwhelms me as we sit here and pretend like this isn’t the oddest thing we’ve ever done during our working relationship.
The heat from the candles, the subtle scent that burns into the air, the way the flame dances across her face.
Fuck, I want her so badly.
The fact that my bedroom is less than twenty feet away is killing me.
I could have her face down, ass up in less than a minute.
Bunching that cute little skirt up past her hips, sliding down that thong I imagine she’s wearing.
And if I can’t even wait that long, I could just pull it to the side and sink into her, thrusting hard so she knows that she belongs to me.
“And what about you? Who have you brought to Dinner Club?”
She pulls me out of my racing thoughts, my mouth waters and I can’t tell you how pleased I am that she’s asked, because it tells me she’s interested. She wants to know if she’s the only one.
“I’ve never been with anyone long term.”
“You never brought a fuck buddy to dinner night?” She laughs, taking another pull.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever brought, Mia. None of my friends ever knew anything about anyone I was fucking. Hence why they were so interested in you. Especially because I told them you’re my girlfriend.”
The flame lights up the pink flush licking up her neck, and I smile into my beer bottle.
Stay focused.
“Speaking of…I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure, then I should really start studying.”
“Let’s go to the living room and sit on the couch.”
“Okay.”
She stands up, taking her plate to the sink and rinsing it before opening the dishwasher.
“You got any Tupperware for leftovers?”
“Yeah, hang on.”
I get out the Tupperware and start filling it with the leftover lasagna as Mia fills the dishwasher and wipes down the sides. It’s awfully domestic, and my heart tugs at the thought of her here with me, clearing up after dinner every night, teasing me with her quick wit and clever comebacks.
This infatuation needs to stop, and I can’t believe I’m going to ask her what I’m going to ask her.
We make our way into the living room, and she sits on the couch, tucking her feet under her like she’s already making herself at home. The satin skirt flowing down the front of the couch.
She looks at the laptop she brought with her and winces a little.
I know I’m eating into her time, especially given that she’s felt the need to follow me around after the Vincent incident.
She should be focusing on herself, but again, I’m going to be selfish and ask more of her.
My father springs to mind. He always expected so much from Mom, giving her nothing back.
Maybe there is something I could do for Mia… I don’t know what though.
“Okay, so this is going to sound a little crazy.”
“I like where this is going.” She waggles her eyebrows, laughing.
“Right…well, hold that thought.” I take a deep breath. “With the social media posts that have been circulating about you, me and Lottie…well it’s not been good.”
“Okay…”
“Lottie is dating someone very high profile, and it’s very secret. But that person’s PR team isn’t happy that Lottie has been dragged into a love triangle social media frenzy. If they do eventually go public, they want it to be clear that Lottie has nothing to do with me, romantically that is.”
“Is Lottie in danger? A PR team dictating their relationship seems kind of controlling.”
I sigh. “The person she’s with—it’s complicated. Lottie says he’s a good man, but his PR team is a nightmare.”
“Well, we’re already kind of pretending because of the unfortunate wedging situation with Vincent. Can’t we just carry on with that?”
“I think this is going to need a formal statement, and I was hoping to talk about it on the show tomorrow morning.”
She stiffens, her face falling into a hard frown.
“I know it’s asking a lot. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t for Lottie.”
It’s not strictly true, and I don’t know why I felt the need to say it. Maybe to convince her? It would give me the excuse to spend more time with her, like we need more reason to.
“This is going to blow up in my face, Alfie, I can feel it.”
“I promise you I won’t let that happen.”
I take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb along her knuckles.
“Alfie, I’m serious when I say if you ruin my life, I will come for you. I will toilet paper your practice, I will let flying cockroaches into the vents, I’ll tell everyone who will listen that you have terrible breath and body odor.”
Jesus.
“I will make your life a living hell if you fuck up my life.”
“Noted.”
“I mean it. I can be mean if I have to. I’m not scared to be mean.”
“You’re terrifying, Mia,” I say with all sincerity.
And she is. Maybe not in the I’m scared of her sense, but everything about her makes me question how I’ve been living.
She makes me question all my rules and promises that I made to myself.
And I’m terrified I’m going to ruin a patient’s life, I’m going to miss something, all because I can’t stop thinking about her.
“What do I get in return?”
I’d been trying to think of something all afternoon that I could offer her, but my own limited imagination has a direct link to my dick right now and all I could think of was a mutually beneficial arrangement that satisfied both our needs.
“You could coach me?” she says, quietly as if she’s embarrassed to even ask.
“Coach you?”
“Yeah, for the dissertation defense. I’ll need all the help I can get. We could do a practice run of questions they’ll ask, how I’m going to argue my case, etc.”
That’s perfect. And doesn’t involve me pulling her hair as I fuck her from behind, which would probably violate my HR policy.
“Deal. And I’ll also cook you dinner every Wednesday, to make sure you eat properly,” I add. It’s not strictly necessary, but it’s an excuse to have her in my home for longer.
She opens her mouth to protest, but I beat her to it. “Non-negotiable. You need to eat properly to be mentally prepared for your defense.”
A small tug at her lips shot fireworks off in my chest. “Fine.”
“Good. Now let’s get to work.”