Chapter 10 Rory
RORY
Rory sat up in bed and rubbed her hand over her face.
Weariness almost pulled her back under the covers, but she knew she had to join the family for breakfast and check out before heading back to London.
She forced herself out of bed and padded across her hotel room to make a coffee.
As the coffee machine sputtered and gurgled, she swished the curtains open and looked out across the lawns to the swimming pool and grimaced.
This weekend had been a total disaster, and she was surer than ever that her relationship with Gemma would be irreconcilable.
Gemma.
Her shoulders slumped as she remembered she was driving Gemma home.
The prospect of a tense three hours in a car driving back to London was not pleasant, and she wondered how she could get out of it.
The need to slink home without seeing the other woman again was greater, at the moment, than her grandmother’s wrath.
Dinner last night had been pleasant but strained.
Fortunately, the grandmothers had monopolised their granddaughters’ attention, and no one had really clocked that Rory and Gemma were not speaking to each other.
When Phyllis had poked her granddaughter and asked her what was wrong, Rory had come up with some guff about being tired and worn out by the sun.
In fact, everyone at the table had looked tanned but tired and, fortunately, everyone went to bed soon after dinner.
Gemma had pretty much run away as soon as politeness allowed with a kiss to her grandmother’s cheek, so there was no chance for Rory to explain, to find the words for Gemma that she couldn’t find for herself.
Her phone pinged with a message from her mother reminding her about breakfast in the main dining room, and Rory shook herself out of her thoughts and went into the bathroom.
As she took her hair down from the messy bun she had slept in, she remembered Gemma running her hands through it last night and the reaction she’d had.
It was extreme, she knew that, but her hair was the main thing she hated about herself right now.
She wanted to cut it shorter but knew that a bob wouldn’t suit her face and would likely annoy her more than the long hair would.
Quickly, she washed and conditioned her hair before reaching for the body wash.
As she ran her hands over her body, she noticed the tan lines at the top of her thighs where her costume had been yesterday.
She thought about the time spent by the pool and then the time in Gemma’s room.
God, how she had wanted her. Her mind was whirring with thoughts and feelings, but her body was certain in its need for Gemma.
She briefly wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t acted like a fool and run away again.
Would they have had sex? Probably. Would they have met again last night and slept together?
Taken their time with each other’s bodies?
Could she have slept another night with Gemma in her arms? Possibly. She would never know now.
She pulled on her jeans and a shirt before gulping her coffee and dashing to the dining room. As she approached, she saw George lingering by the door and approached him happily.
“Hey George, are we the only two down?” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and looked around.
“Yes, Isabelle is doing her hair.” He sighed dramatically. “And your parents have taken the grandmothers for a quick turn around the gardens as Isabelle is running late. I’ve not seen Gemma, but I’m sure she will be here. You know what she’s like in the morning.”
They both chuckled good-naturedly and let the hovering waiter show them to a table.
There was no point in hanging around in the hallway, and she needed more coffee.
Her brain was still not fully awake because of the fitful night’s sleep she’d had, and she needed the boost. Once the waiter had left them with coffee and some toast, George turned to her.
“So, London legal life suiting you?” He fiddled with the sugar spoon before thoughtfully adding sugar to his coffee.
“Yes, lovely thanks.” She smiled, not letting on that the constant travel and overseas trips were starting to wear her down or that working on deals worth millions, if not billions, of pounds was not as exciting as it had been in the past.
“Well, you know.” He cleared his throat. “We are always looking for good lawyers down here.” He sipped his coffee and looked at her from behind his glasses. His face was almost as familiar to her as her own father’s.
“Oh.” Rory sipped her black coffee, wincing at the heat of it but grateful for some time to think. George had been instrumental in her going to London and qualifying as a lawyer, but never had he offered her a job or talked about her coming home.
“It’s just.” He cleared his throat again. “You know, with you and Gemma.” He waved his hands around in a vague back-and-forth motion. “And of course you’ve been like a daughter to me for a while, and it would be good to have her living closer to home.”
Rory put a hand up to stop him. “I don’t know what you think is happening with me and Gemma, but until Friday night we hadn’t seen each other for ten years, and I think it’s unlikely that we will see each other again for a while after this weekend.”
“It’s okay, Rory.” He put a hand on hers and spoke softly. “I saw you leaving her room yesterday morning.”
Rory gulped and took another sip of her coffee. She weighed her words carefully.
“There isn’t anything going on, George. We fell asleep by the pool after talking all night, and I walked her back to her room. It’s been a pleasant weekend catching up, but I don’t think we will see each other again soon.”
The words cut into her as she realised they were true. The friendship that she craved had been cut down with her rash and drunken action yesterday afternoon. Rory sighed.
“But you like each other,” George countered.
“Couldn’t you, you know, give her a try and see how things go?
I will be retiring soon and looking for a successor in the business.
” He tapped a hand on the table. “She’s not been very good at relationships, you know.
Typical of her, she can’t seem to commit to anyone. I think you might be the exception.”
Anything else he was about to say died on his lips as the rest of the group arrived, followed by a pale-looking Gemma a few minutes later.
Rory made polite conversation and tried to put George’s words into context.
It very much felt like he was offering his daughter’s hand in exchange for a slice of his business.
She knew that wouldn’t sit well with Gemma and remembered what Gemma had told her about her parents interfering with her life.
“What time are you two heading off?” Her mother’s words cut into her thoughts, and Rory was confused.
“Huh?” was the only intelligible thing she could come up with. Had her mind drifted so much that she’d lost track of the conversation?
“You and Gemma.” Her mother clarified. “I thought you were giving her a lift home as the trains aren’t running.”
Rory saw Gemma stiffen in her chair.
“There’s really no need for that.” Gemma’s words were clipped. “I’m sure there’s a replacement bus running, and I don’t want to put Rory out.”
“Nonsense,” Phyllis interjected. “We've arranged for Rory to drive you, and she would be happy to, wouldn’t you Rory?”
Rory quickly nodded her agreement, slight amusement tickling the back of her mind that she could face down any opponent in court or across the negotiating table but immediately crumpled in front of her grandmother.
As Gemma protested again, Rory cut in and assured her it wouldn’t be a problem.
As they spoke, she realised she wanted to drive Gemma home.
Not only because it would give them time to talk and hopefully for Rory to explain what happened.
But also to make sure she got home safely and with no interruptions to her journey.
The protectiveness she’d had of Gemma as a teenager seemingly had developed into a longing to look after her as an adult.
If this had been any other woman and she was feeling like this after only a few days, Rory would have said she was crackers.
But these feelings towards Gemma seemed perfectly natural.
“Gemma.” Rory looked her in the eyes and for a moment saw a flash of pain cross her face before an impassive and neutral expression settled on her features. “It’s really no bother, and I’d like to share the journey with you.”
Before Gemma had time to agree or otherwise, Mary clapped her hands and declared the matter settled before asking Rory about her week coming up. Rory babbled on about her upcoming cases, but her mind was occupied with thoughts of Gemma and how she could explain things to her.
Less than an hour later, Gemma and Rory were settled into Rory’s Porsche and driving out of the hotel.
It was another glorious English summer day, and Rory was grateful for the air conditioning that kept the car’s interior cool.
They had said farewell to the families, bundled their overnight bags into her impossibly small boot, and set off down the driveway.
Like many country house hotels, the driveway was long, and Rory drove slowly along it in case she met another car coming towards her on the single-track piece of tarmac.
She deftly turned out onto the country road from the hotel and pressed her foot to the pedal.
For a moment, she relished the roar of the engine and the solid way the momentum of the car pressed her into her seat.
She deftly negotiated the winding country roads until she finally turned onto the motorway.
With another determined press of her foot, she urged the car forward.
This time it could fully open up, and she sped along the motorway.
Another gasp from Gemma had Rory glancing at the speedometer.
With a wince, she lifted her foot slightly and settled the car back at the speed limit before activating the cruise control.
The last thing she needed right now was a speeding ticket, which would need to be declared at work.
The radio station played in the background, and for a few moments she let the car gobble up the miles.
The tension was palpable in the car, and Rory searched her brain for the right words to start the conversation.
For someone who was so effective in court and persuasive in the boardroom, she was now drawing a blank with the woman who used to be her best friend.
She drummed her fingers in tune with the radio and then took a big breath.
“It wasn’t just kids that we broke up over.” She knew it was a statement completely out of left field, but she had to start the conversation somewhere.
“What?” Gemma turned her head and looked at Rory.
For a moment, Rory stared at her face. Gemma drew her brows together, and her eyes were cold.
Rory turned her concentration back to the road.
Even though her car could avoid a crash on its own, she found the need to look ahead at the road in front of her rather than into Gemma’s eyes made the conversation easier.
“Darcy and me. We didn’t break up over just having kids or the wedding.
” She let out a sound that was half cough and half sigh.
“Although I should have realised when she persuaded me to buy this sports car rather than a sensible SUV that kids were not part of her plan, but I was trying to convince myself that I was in love with her and couldn’t see the cracks in the relationship. ”
“Weren’t you in love with her?” Gemma’s voice was quiet, but Rory could hear some genuine interest and concern, so carried on.
“Not really. At work, someone pointed out that I should consider marriage if I wanted to become a partner. Also, there was no one else I was interested in, and I thought I could grow to love her.”
“Did she love you?”
“No, Darcy only loved herself.” Rory sighed, “and my bank account,” she added quickly.
“Don’t feel bad for her, though. Despite what my grandmother says about her, I really wasn’t as good a girlfriend as I could have been.
I asked her to marry me because it would have been good for my career, and I spent too long at the office to be fully committed to her.
But that wasn’t the reason we broke up.” She took a long breath to study herself.
“The thing is…” She gripped the steering wheel tighter and swallowed several times before she could get the words out.
This was harder than she had thought it would be.
It hadn’t been this hard when she’d told Darcy.
Perhaps that was an indication of how wrong they were for each other, because Gemma’s opinion mattered so much more to her than Darcy’s ever did.
“The thing is…” she said again, willing herself to say the phrase that had been bouncing around her head all weekend.
“I’m not sure I want to be a girl anymore.”