17. Alex
17
Alex
Once I’m home, I head straight for the fridge. The evening had gone as best as I could have expected, but now I need a drink. I pour the last glass of wine out of the bottle and head out to the back porch, where my faithful rocking chair awaits. Lowering myself into it, I let out a long sigh.
I’m even beginning to sound like an old man.
As I gaze out across the fields and the glowing orange light across the sky, the only remaining evidence of the sun, I think of what happened tonight. Not the conversation at Mark’s house, but what happened when I dropped Dara off.
I teased her a little about Mark’s comment, mainly because the night had been so darned serious—I wanted to inject a little lightness into it. It had been amusing, watching her struggle to explain herself.
But I don’t think she’s been wrong or has misjudged me. Before she walked into my life, I was a different person. She said “distant” when I knew she meant something else. What she wanted to say was grumpy, sullen, cantankerous. And she would have been right on all counts.
While a large part of me does feel fulfilled in my life, I’ve been holding on to pains of my past. Wounds that have festered and, due to my own fault, have not fully healed.
Bizarrely, it’s only since Dara’s arrival that I seem to have let much of it go. I find myself waking up with a smile, looking forward to the day, wanting to see her.
And it’s that last point that’s most important. This deal started off as one thing, but it’s slowly morphed into something even I couldn’t have foreseen. Maybe that kiss tonight was too much, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m feeling things that I haven’t let myself feel for a long time. And I don’t think I’m imagining it when I say I think Dara is experiencing the same.
But how do I approach this? What if I’m wrong? What if I’m seeing things I want to see rather than what’s truly there?
If I say something to her and it’s not what I think, I’m going to make things really awkward between us. But I’m ninety percent sure I’m right. So, what do I do?
By the time I retire to bed, I’ve decided to let things carry on the way they are. If I can get this deal sorted and out of the way, it will clear a path for me to approach this from an objective perspective. I’ve already put enough on her shoulders. I can’t add to that. It’s not fair.
The same thoughts invade my mind on my run the following morning, but I remain resolved to stick to what I’ve already decided. By the time Dara arrives, I’m showered, dressed, and already working.
I’m in my office when I hear the front door close. A part of me wants to leave my desk and hurry out to greet her, but I stay put for at least five minutes. After last night, I don’t want to look too pushy.
Impatiently watching the minutes on the clock, I eventually move through the house and head to the kitchen, carrying my coffee cup. I don’t really need another coffee, but it’s a good excuse to be in the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I say as I enter.
Dara’s already preparing my breakfast, and glancing up from slicing an avocado, she looks a little coy. “Morning,” she replies.
There’s an awkwardness about her, which I can only assume has to do with that kiss last night, but she still smiles, albeit a little shyly. It’s strange seeing her like this. She’s usually so assertive.
“You want coffee?” I ask, feeling like I have to say something.
She shakes her head. “I’m good. Thanks.”
I start the coffee machine and then turn and lean against the counter, watching her work. It’s certainly not the most unpleasant sight first thing in the morning.
“Have you heard anything more from Mark?” Dara asks, turning to work at the hob.
“No. You?”
She shakes her head.
“You’re worried.”
She shrugs, cracking eggs into the pan. “I just don’t know whether he bought it.”
I can hear the worry in her voice and even though my coffee is done, I leave it sitting there and move over to her. She glances up at me, looking a little surprised.
“I know last night was hard,” I say carefully, “and I’m really sorry I had to put you in that position. If there was any other way…”
“I know. And anyway, it’s all for a good cause, right? What we’re doing here is going to enable you to keep helping Mom and Dad.”
I nod.
“Then I’ll learn to live with myself. What worries me is what’s going to happen when this deal is done.”
“What do you mean?”
She turns to face me full on. Gazing up at me, she gives me a look that tells me I ought to know what she’s talking about.
“This engagement has to come to an end at some point, Alex. When it does, we’re going to have to tell everybody. Including Mark.”
That hits me hard.
“Right.”
“He’s going to hate you. You know that, right? Whatever story we come up with, Mark is going to be mad at you, and you’re going to lose your closest friend.”
A wave of realization washes over me. Clearly, I didn’t think this through as well as I thought I had. Or maybe I’d been riding a lot on the fact that Mark wasn’t going to be here, and I’d be back in the city before he even returned.
But things had changed. For me, at least.
Dara turns her attention back to the eggs in the pan, and I’m left standing there, considering how I’m going to get myself out of the mess I’ve made. Mark has been my best friend for more than ten years. Had I really created a scenario that would obliterate everything we’d been through?
“Your breakfast is ready,” Dara says.
Absently, I nod, and moving back to the coffee machine, I collect my cup before heading to the dining table.
Dara brings in the plates and, as usual, doesn’t linger, leaving me trying to figure out how I’m going to deal with this situation. Maybe I need to tell Mark the truth. Maybe I can tell him the truth when this is all over, and knowing that the end game is to help his parents, he might not hate me as much.
Maybe if Dara wasn’t involved that would be an option, but his reactions last night told me everything I need to know.
I’m in trouble. Big trouble.
But it’s too late now. I’m past the point of no return. The house, the money, the efforts, the relationship—there’s too much that has already been done to facilitate this partnership with Jack. I can’t back out now.
Even if I did, Mark would find out the truth and still hate me. I have no choice but to continue on the path and take whatever consequences come of it. The idea of losing Mark as my friend is painful—more than painful—but my back is against the wall.
Several hours later, Barbara calls.
“I’ve organized the meeting with Spire Healthcare,” she says after we’ve dispensed with our usual greetings.
I’d called her at the end of last week and told her to reschedule some of my surgeries so we could get this meeting arranged. I’d told Jack it might be a couple of weeks, but I didn’t want to keep the man hanging on too long.
“That’s great. When is it?”
“Friday, at seven p.m.”
Friday. That gives me two days.
“Great, Barbara. Thanks. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Looking forward to it,” she says and then hangs up.
I leave the office and make my way to the kitchen again.
“I have news,” I say.
Dara lifts her eyebrows expectantly.
“The meeting is this Friday at seven.”
“The meeting? As in, the reason we’ve been doing this whole fake relationship thing?”
“Exactly. You just need to do what you’ve already been doing,” I continue when I see a worried frown dancing on her brow. “Everything will be fine.”
“Okay,” she says, sounding more like her assertive self. “I need to figure out what I’m going to cook.”
I smile at her, and she frowns. “What?”
“You never switch off, do you?”
She shrugs. “You want to impress these guys, right? So, let’s impress them.”
I nod, but then say, “It’s more important that you’re my fiancée Friday night, rather than a chef. By all means, create something wonderful, but I don’t want you putting unnecessary pressure on yourself either.”
She gives a slight smirk. “I’m a chef, Alex. I thrive under pressure.”
I look at her for a long moment, wondering again, if what I have done hasn’t been the worst decision in the history of mankind.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I’m beginning to believe I’ve made a colossal mistake. Apart from what might happen between me and Mark, I think I’ve asked far too much of you.”
She returns my gaze and says, “And when I think of all those children that you’re helping, I have to ask, what’s too much?”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You’ve lied to your friends and now your family because of me. I know the toll it’s taken on your soul. You’re a straight arrow, a woman with high moral principles. Someone who values honesty.”
She nods. “You’re right. On all counts. But life isn’t always as clear cut as that, and sometimes you need to break a few eggs to make an omelet.”
I gaze at her with utter admiration. “You know, I’m beginning to think that the man upstairs broke the mold when he made you.”
Dara’s cheeks flush, and she gives me a bashful smile. “And yet, I’m not the one putting my friendships on the line to help little children have a chance in life.”
I shrug. “I have the means to do it.”
Dara shakes her head. “Don’t be so modest. There are many people who make flippant donations to charity with little thought about it. You’re going above and beyond.”
“I’m doing what feels right.”
“Exactly.” She gives me a soft smile.
For a moment, our eyes lock, and I can feel the crackling of electricity dancing on the air. I’m not imagining it. I’m certain something is happening between us. Do I say something now? Do I address the elephant in the kitchen?
Before I get a chance, Dara breaks eye contact and says, “Well, I need to get on, or you’ll be getting your dinner at midnight.”
“About that. I’m leaving for the city shortly. When you’re done, just leave it in the fridge, and then you can head home.”
“Okay.”
When I walk out of the kitchen again, I halt outside the door, teetering on the indecision that’s driving me mad.
Leave it until after the dinner with Jack.
That’s probably a good idea. Dara will have enough on her plate, metaphorically as well as literally, without having to deal with me throwing our emotions into the mix.