Chapter 2
2
The conversation stayed with Amber long after the end of her shift. Full of lonely hearts. Her grandmother used to spout things along similar lines, especially after grandad had passed too soon. And it wasn’t like Amber’s own parents had anything to report in the true love stakes. Their story was more horror than romantic comedy. Was she really an idiot, believing that she could have a career and a love worth having? Would she have her own romantic story to relate to her own grandchildren, when she was battle scarred and grey haired? Right now, the only relationship she really had was with time, and wasting it. The night ahead was a prime example.
She’d had a few ideas of how to spend her evening in. She could watch that period drama box set everyone was talking about online, so she’d finally understand all the memes people were sharing. She could clean the flat, except that she’d not really been in the place so there wasn’t much to do. It took all of an hour until she was back twiddling her thumbs again. All she wore lately were sweatpants, PJs and her uniform, so her washing was done in two loads. Sharon had come up on her break to grab a coffee with her, but, other than that, the night dragged. At half nine, when Sharon had gone back downstairs, Amber had taken one look at her laptop and decided that the TV would win for tonight. She wasn’t in the mood to focus on her business plan and, when she’d texted Bradley to see how his night was going, he’d left her on read. Nice. She flumped down on the couch, trying to get into the show playing on the screen. She’d woken up some time later, still wearing her work clothes and feeling groggy from the nap. She could hear people leaving downstairs, the usual comforting sounds of customers she’d known for years saying goodnight and heading home for the evening.
‘Well,’ she sighed to herself. ‘Great night off, Amber. You need to get a life, girl.’ It had started to feel off, hearing everyone leave at night. Living alone had never bothered her before. Sharon and Tyler lived close by, they both had their own places in Hebblestone, but she had gotten used to having Bradley here. He’d used to sleep over a lot, and now… now he didn’t. Brad had a flat of his own, the typical steel and glass bachelor pad, in a block of up-market apartments just outside Hebblestone and nearer the big city life in Leeds. She’d only slept over once, but it wasn’t a home like her place was. Brad called her place cluttered, which, after seeing his bare space, she took as a compliment. Seeing her things in place, the photos, the furniture her grandmother had left her, soothed Amber as she took in the silence around her. It was so quiet, the stillness of the night only punctuated by the odd car passing by.
Looking at her phone on the coffee table, she told herself she wouldn’t check her messages. But her phone sat there on the tabletop, begging her for attention. When it beeped, she pounced on it. Tyler.
All locked up, I left the key in the lock box. Sleep tight
T y
She tapped out a reply of thanks before looking for notifications. Bradley hadn’t replied. Knew it. Huffing, she dropped her phone on the couch. Time to get ready for bed. She’d get showered and get some sleep. Deal with everything tomorrow. It had been a cool day for late July, but she still felt icky from the long day.
She lingered under the hot spray of the shower for far longer than necessary, conditioning her hair twice just for something to do with her hands other than beat at the wall. Why had Bradley not messaging her irked her so much? He was busy; he was working. He wouldn’t be sitting on his phone. He might even be home by now, asleep for all she knew. Still, Tyler always took the time to text her when he left. To tell her he’d locked up, even though she knew he would never forget. He did it to make her feel safe, to say goodnight. If her friends showed they cared, why the hell didn’t Bradley? Why was she even bothering if things were this hard twelve months in? She thought back to Tyler’s words earlier. He’d noticed the change. They both had. Sharon had definitely said her piece tonight too. Whether she’d wanted them to or not, they were both trying to help.
At the comedy night, she’d had fun, but it had stung to be stood up in front of them. Now it had happened yet again, and she felt… stupid. Rejected. She’d told her regulars she had the night off, that she was spending it with Bradley. Instead, she’d been upstairs all on her lonesome, drooling into the sofa cushions instead of enjoying the time off in a better way. Her friends were going to be full of it tomorrow when she told them she hadn’t heard from him. She wouldn’t lie to them, but justifying Bradley’s actions was starting to feel a little wearing. The three of them were the best of buds, but lately she’d felt a shift in the trio dynamic she loved. Like she was a wonky corner of the triangle somehow. Over the last few weeks, she’d caught the odd look pass between them when they thought she wasn’t looking. It made her feel… uneasy. Stupid, like they were talk ing about things without her. Possibly forming an I Hate Sloane fan club. A few things bothered her of late. With the silence, it was hard not to notice all of the loud doubts in her head. This wasn’t just a rough patch in their relationship. This was the relationship. She’d been playing dumb even to herself, but she couldn’t deny it any more. This wasn’t the life she wanted. She’d never have a family with Bradley. Not really, even if they did sort things out and took the next steps they’d planned together. She’d be a single parent, waiting for him to show them attention. The thought of that was the decider. She wanted The Bingley Arms back, she wanted to raise a family in that place, her family of regulars and friends around her. She wanted that for her. Not Bradley, not to reclaim the legacy her grandmother had left before she got sick and had to sell up. They were her dreams, her life. A life she had checked out of in recent months, waiting for a man who didn’t deserve her in the first place. She didn’t want to wake up in ten years’ time with regret and resentment. Her parents had never put her first. There was no way in hell she was going to have a child and watch the poor thing long for a parent who just wasn’t there.
She was going to have to lay it out for Bradley. He either shaped up or shipped out. She didn’t care if she sounded like some baby-crazy control freak. She knew what she wanted, and the woman she used to be would never have floundered like this, and there was nothing like another trip around the sun to wake a person up. Her impending birthday was going to be the marker for the next chapter in her life. Life begins at thirty, Amber. Time to get on with living it.
‘Oww!’ She winced as the blob of coconut-scented conditioner she’d managed to flick right into her eye blinded her. ‘Shit.’ Pulling back the shower curtain, she flapped her hands about until she made contact with the towel rail. Which was pretty easy, given that the bathroom in the flat above the Slug was small. Using the shower spray to douse the thick conditioner away from her face, she heard a noise. A door slamming? She stuck her head back out of the shower, gripping the curtain tight with one hand and reaching behind her with the other until she felt her fancy new loofah. The type that looked like a beige chunk of coral reef mounted on a wooden stick.
Bang!
There it was again! Someone was definitely downstairs. Heart thudding, she grabbed at the end of the wooden handle, gripping it tight. It was too light to do any real damage, but she felt better for having it in her hand. Tyler had no reason to come back, and Bradley was in Harrogate, right? He’d have called first, surely?
The water was still pummelling down on her back, dripping onto the bathmat as she slowly climbed out of the shower. Her toes had barely touched the floor before she heard footsteps up the stairs. Clunky, heavy ones. It didn’t sound like Bradley. Wrapping a towel around her one handed, she raised the loofah behind her head baseball-bat style. ‘This is not how I am going out,’ she muttered through gritted teeth. ‘Half naked with a loofah is not what I want written on my bloody obituary.’ She’d kept the water on, not wanting to alert her would-be murderer that she knew they were there. She thought of who would find her in the morning. The cleaner had a day off, which meant it would probably be Tyler. God no. She was not about to let her best friend find her in a pool of coconut-scented blood with her tatas flying free. At least I shaved my legs. She gripped the bamboo handle tighter, giving it a little practice swing as she heard the footsteps getting closer. She would give whoever came through that door everything she’d got, and then leg it down the stairs. If she could just get to the control panel on the bar alarm, she’d have people here to save her.
Trying not to hyperventilate, she tilted her ear towards the door and willed her body to be still. The towel around her chest was jumping along with her racing heart as she waited for movement she hoped wouldn’t come. If it was someone she knew, they would have called her name, she told herself. A break-in? She had the takings in the safe; did they know when she went to the bank? God, I wish I hadn’t left my phone on the couch.
When she heard the unmistakable squeak of the floorboard outside the door, she held her breath. ‘Come on,’ she whispered between breathy pants. ‘Give it your best shot.’ How she kept the squeak from escaping when the handle turned, she couldn’t say. She was too busy readying herself for battle.
‘Die, wanker!’ she shouted, and the second she saw a flash of black clothing, she bellowed like an angry bear and brought the loofah down as hard as she could. The second it made contact, it snapped in half. The dark shadow screamed, falling back out of the door with a high pitched ‘Arrgghhh! Amber, what the?—!’
‘B-Bradley!?’ She took in his crumpled form on the floor, legs half in the room as the steam from the shower enveloped him.
‘Yeah! Of course it’s me! Who else would it be?’ He was looking at her like she’d grown an extra head. She saw his wide, blue eyes take in her weapon, his brows forming an incredulous frown. ‘Is that a nunchuk?’ The loofah head was totalled, leaving a rather smooth nub in her clenched hand, the pad dangling at its side by a single thread. ‘What is… er… bur…’ His words grew more garbled the lower his gaze got. It was right about then that Amber realised she’d dropped her towel during the fracas and it was now on the floor beside Bradley, who was open mouthed and bumbling nonsensical words.
‘For God’s sake,’ she seethed, grabbing for the towel and covering her modesty. ‘You’ve seen me naked before. You scared the shit out of me!’
‘I know,’ he leered back. ‘But not all angry and wet.’
She scowled his way. ‘You’re an idiot. ’
‘Yeah.’ He reached up for her hand at lightning speed, pulling her to the floor and into his arms. ‘But I’m your idiot.’ He brushed back a tendril of wet hair between two fingers, moving them to her chin and lifting her lips to his. He kissed her so softly, she almost forgot she was mad at him. He tasted like mint and Champagne. ‘Forgiven?’ he murmured when he pulled back. She was sitting on his lap now like side saddle on a horse, one hand holding the tenuous bit of towel tucked in under the seam. ‘Come on, you can’t be mad.’ He kissed her again, a little more forcefully this time. ‘I came to see you, didn’t I?’ He looked down at his rather damp suit. ‘And took a beating. Look at my suit.’
He wiped at a spot of wet on his suit sleeve and she rolled her eyes.
‘I’m sure your dry cleaner will be able to get a water stain out, James Bond.’ She tapped his bow tie with her finger before getting to her feet. He rose with her, and they stood together in the tiny doorway. ‘How did you get in, anyway?’ He’d always insisted that they didn’t need to swap keys. Another sign you ignored. What partner doesn’t have a key to their other half’s place? Or want one? She’d offered. He never had, and it was another brick in the wall between them.
‘I used the key in the lock box.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Wait, are you mad I came?’
‘No,’ she scoffed, pushing past him to get to the bedroom. ‘It’s not that; you just scared the bejesus out of me. I wasn’t expecting to see you. You also now owe me a loofah.’ She looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was now nearly one in the morning. She had been hoping to have the big talk after she’d slept on it, worked out what she wanted to say. ‘I have to be up for the brewery delivery first thing.’
‘Sorry, babe. I thought you’d be in bed, all snug by now. I rang you on the way home; when you didn’t answer, I thought you were either asleep or still annoyed with me.’
‘I was.’ She moved around her room, looking for something to sleep in. Her drawers offered two different options: her sexy nightie collection and a pile of comfy, flannel-type pyjamas she saved for cold nights and lazy days off. Hmm . Definitely a flannel type of talk . ‘I am. It’s pretty late, and you didn’t reply to my message. After blowing me off again, I didn’t exactly expect you.’
She felt him close behind her. Reaching for the black nightie, he pulled it out of the drawer. ‘I had it on silent, baby. Please don’t be mad.’ He ran his hand over the material. ‘Hmm. No granny clothing tonight,’ he whispered against the shell of her ear, making her shudder. Not in the good way either. He really didn’t give a shit that she was mad. Thought he could come here for some late-night booty call. ‘I came straight here after the event, to see you.’
‘Well, partners who care show up when they make plans. And if you’d bothered to ask for a key, I would have given you one. We should be doing those kinds of things by now if we’re going to be together.’ She ignored his look of affront as she went on. ‘I mean, it’s worth a discussion, right? If only to save my future loofahs from damage. Things can’t go on as they are, Brad. I’m not happy.’
‘Well,’ he shrugged, starting to undress. ‘I’m here now, and the lock box is fine.’ He dropped his bow tie to the floor, starting on the buttons. ‘See, no need for a discussion. I just want to see you. Less talking, more undressing.’ When she didn’t answer him, he rolled his eyes. ‘I won’t come next time if this is the reception I get.’
He was on the third button of his shirt before she spoke again. ‘Yeah, well. Maybe you shouldn’t.’
His fingers stilled on the button. ‘Shouldn’t what?’
‘Come over.’ His brows furrowed, and she cut him off before he could spout more fake platitudes. ‘I just told you I wasn’t happy, and you didn’t even flinch. ’
He sighed, dropping his hands to his side.
‘It’s late. I’ve had a drink. Can we just leave it for tonight? I’ll make it up to you then.’
He went to undo the next button, and that’s when she knew. The man she thought he was didn’t exist. He wasn’t going to change, because he didn’t want to. Didn’t feel the need to. He was not what she wanted. Not like this. She wasn’t about to be anyone’s afterthought a minute longer.
‘I think you should leave.’
His laugh was like a slap in the face. ‘What?’
‘You heard me, Bradley. I’m not some late-night sex buddy. You either treat me as a partner or we call the whole thing off.’
He didn’t say anything for the longest time. ‘Has someone said something to you?’
‘No,’ she frowned. ‘Should they have?’
‘No, no,’ he ran a flustered hand through his hair, ruffling it out of place. ‘I just don’t know where all this has come from all of a sudden. You were fine when we spoke earlier.’
‘I was mad earlier, Bradley! I’ve been mad for a while, actually. I thought we were okay, but the more you’re not here, the more you check out, the madder I get. I’ve been mad more than happy for a long time. You just don’t notice! This is not what we planned. Since the eatery, I have to practically make an appointment to see you. It’s changing me, and I hate that. I’m not this person, Brad; I’m not the girl who waits by the phone for a man to give her the time of day. I have my own life, you know. Stuff I want to do. I’m not getting any younger, and?—’
‘Oh,’ his shoulders slumped in relief. ‘You had me going there for a minute.’ He huffed out a laugh, and Amber felt her spine stiffen at the noise. He was laughing, when she was pouring her heart out. ‘I get it. It’s your birthday making you feel like this. Turning thirty isn’t that bad, babe. You still have a few good years left in you yet.’
Nice. She shook her head, wondering what she ever saw in the man. ‘Thanks for that, and it’s not about my birthday. Not only about that, but it’s true that it’s made me think.’ She locked eyes with him. Now or never. I don’t have another loofah if he keeps talking like this. She was still smarting from the derisive dismissal in his voice when she drew in a breath and spoke again. ‘This relationship, if you can call it that, is not what I want. You have to choose, Bradley. I won’t sit around for the next few months waiting for you to bother to spend time with me.’
She watched his brows furrow, his eyes taking her in as if he was seeing her in a new light. Trust him to notice me now.
‘So you want me to choose between my business and you?’
‘No, I want you to realise I’m part of your life! If I was important to you, it wouldn’t even be a choice. We’re all busy, Brad, but I still make time for you. For my friends.’
‘Yeah,’ he scoffed. ‘And we all know your friends are not fans of mine.’
‘That’s not tr?—’
‘Yeah it is. Sharon isn’t exactly subtle, and Tyler…’ He bit at the inside of his cheek. ‘Well, let’s just say I know he’s not a fan.’
Amber couldn’t say anything about Sharon, but the Tyler comment surprised her. Sure, he’d said things to her, but he barely spoke to Bradley when they were together. Brad was always trying to talk to him about his next steps for work. Maybe that was it. He’d never seemed open to working for Bradley, sure, but showing he didn’t like him? That was just Tyler’s way. When he’d first started work at the Slug, he didn’t speak if it wasn’t connected to work. Hell, she wasn’t sure she even liked him herself that first couple of months. He would just stare at her and stomp around the place. Coming from London, he never spoke about what brought him to Yorkshire. Amber got the impression that he’d needed a change: little things he said about being burned out. He was a bit of a bear all around, huge and often bad tempered, and growly. Out of work though, Amber saw another side of him. Softer. He was funny. Caring, protective. She felt the need to defend her friends rise up.
‘Sharon’s heart’s in the right place. You know how she can be blunt, and Tyler just doesn’t want to work for you. You do tend to badger him about the eatery, and you know he’s never been interested.’
Bradley’s jaw clenched. ‘Yeah, sure Amber. That’s what it’s about.’ He stared at her intently. ‘Lack of interest.’ When she folded her arms across her chest with a sigh, he looked to the floor. ‘I don’t know what to say here, babe.’
Amber felt the stab in her heart like a knife. ‘You do, actually. I’m asking you to put more effort into us, and you’re blaming my friends. It’s not coming from them. I have my own mind, Bradley. You know I want The Arms back, and you know I want a family. When I think about everything we’d planned, I don’t get the same excitement I used to. You’re like dating a ghost. It’s a long-distance relationship without the distance. I am going to hit my thirties next month, and you might think it’s just nagging but I mean everything I say.’ She dropped her arms, feeling her spine straighten as she steeled herself for the thing she was about to do. ‘Most of all, this side of me, the nagging, clingy side? I hate it, and I don’t want to do it any more. It’s not me. I’ve never been this type of girl, Brad! Things change, I get it. We both have things we want to do, but when we started this, they lined up.’
Brad wasn’t moving. He was just standing there, frozen. She waited for the knife to twist in her chest, but she felt nothing but adrenaline coursing through her body. ‘I think I know the answer to this, but I’m asking it anyway. Do you still want that, or should I just move on without you?’