Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
DANNY
It had been a distracting couple of days for Danny.
He’d tried his best to concentrate on work and occupy his mind with business matters, but his thoughts kept drifting to reminders of Elena.
He’d barely seen her since the weekend. She’d been in work the whole time, ensconced upstairs in her clinic, but she hadn’t come down to see him, like she used to do.
He might have taken this as a hard rejection if he hadn’t witnessed the string of patients heading up to her clinic each day.
She had a business to run, same as he did, and he had to respect that. And he did. He just ached to see her.
He couldn’t even use the excuse of needing a physio session, as she’d made it abundantly clear it was no longer appropriate for her to treat him since they’d become ‘romantically’ involved.
His hip was functionally nearly normally now, helped by his home exercise regime, so this wasn’t an issue—even though not seeing her most definitely was.
‘Send the trial bundle over,’ he said to his client over the phone.
When he heard the stairwell door open, he peered into the waiting area, hoping it would be Elena.
But when she didn’t appear and another patient exited the building, he suppressed a sigh and returned to his office.
‘No problem,’ he said to his client, not really paying much attention to what was being asked of him.
‘Once I’ve read the details I’ll get back to you with my response. ’
Ending the call, he leaned against the window frame and stared at the views across Notting Hill.
His head was all over the place. It had been since the weekend when things had taken an unexpected turn with Elena.
He’d known he was attracted to her, that wasn’t the issue.
It was the other stuff that had thrown him into turmoil, like wanting to talk to her, missing her company, and getting hot under the collar when he thought about what they’d done last weekend.
He’d fallen for her big time, and it was scary as hell.
He’d always believed he’d resisted getting involved with anyone through choice.
He could have had relationships, he’d just chosen not to.
Now he realised that was bullshit. He’d hadn’t been in a relationship because he hadn’t met anyone since Maisie who he’d wanted to be in a relationship with.
Not that he’d given anyone the chance—he’d kept his distance, avoided getting to know anyone, and actively blocked anyone who’d attempted to get to know him.
He’d tried to do the same with Elena, but it had proved impossible. Her confidence and humour, and her determination to infiltrate his defences had forced her way into his life. He was stuck, waiting to find out if she felt as afflicted as he did, or whether it was game over.
He rubbed his temples. What was wrong with him? He was sulking about and moping over a girl, tying himself in knots as to whether she liked him or not. The way he saw it, he had two options. Get over her and return to focusing on work and parenting, or … grow some balls and ask her out.
Venturing into the heady world of dating scared the hell out of him, but the idea of losing Elena terrified him more.
Having made his decision, he marched into the waiting area and pressed the button for the elevator, fuelled by a determination to sort his life out.
But when the elevator door pinged open it was like invisible hands closed around his throat and started choking him.
He tried to move, but panic gripped him, unsteadying him and tightening his chest.
‘Get a grip,’ he told himself, but his legs refused to obey.
Bored of waiting, the elevator door seemed to sigh as it closed, tired of waiting for the flaky passenger to board. Danny jabbed at the button again, forcing the door back open.
‘Two floors,’ he told himself. ‘It’s just two floors.’ Still, his legs wouldn’t move.
Exasperated, he punched the wall, sending a flare of pain shooting up his arm and tilting the painting above.
He should be over this by now. He’d done all the right things.
He’d talked about his damn feelings, he’d carried out his hip exercises, he’d attended informal counselling sessions with Hugh.
So why was he still unable to ride in a damn freakin’ elevator?
He rested his hands on his knees, cursing loudly.
The stairwell door slammed behind him, making him jump. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Jesus!’ Typical that Elena chose now of all times to show up. ‘Don’t creep up on me like that.’
‘I didn’t,’ she said, indignantly. ‘I came down the stairs in my usual fashion, no creeping involved.’ Her hands went to her hips. It was a look he recognised. Assertive, challenging, hot as hell.
‘Sorry.’ He gave her a sheepish grin. ‘You’re right. No creeping involved.’
‘I’m heading out to run a physio session at the local rugby club,’ she said, her eyes darting between him and the elevator door, which had pinged open again, like it was telling tales and snitching about his lack of bottle. ‘Were you coming up to see me?’
‘Trying to.’ He rubbed his hand, regretting punching the wall. ‘As you can see, I failed.’
‘Was there something specific you wanted to see me about?’ She placed her medical bag on the floor.
‘Yes.’ He straightened, he could do this … but then doubt crept in. ‘No. … What I mean is … kind of.’ He was the opposite of Elena. Cowardly, pathetic, fearful of rejection.
She nodded slowly. ‘Helpful.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Do you want to go on a date?’ he said on a rush, fumbling his moment and inwardly cringing. ‘Sorry, let me try that again. What I meant to say was … would you like to go on a date with me … sometime? You know, if you’d like to. No pressure, or anything.’
‘A date?’ Her expression wasn’t easy to make out. She was either appalled, or trying to smother a laugh. He wasn’t sure which was worse.
‘Yes, a date. It’s clear you’ve been avoiding me since the weekend, and I figured we needed to get together to decide what happens next. If anything.’
She took a moment before responding. ‘I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve been busy working. I’ve had back-to-back patients all week.’
‘I know, and I appreciate that, but you could’ve dropped by to say hi. And you haven’t. So it’s a fair assumption to conclude you’ve been avoiding me.’ He sounded needy and pathetic, and he hated himself for it.
‘I haven’t been avoiding you,’ she said, carefully. ‘But maybe I did need some space to see how I felt after last weekend. I hadn’t expected things to develop the way they did.’
‘Me neither.’
‘I didn’t want to rush into a decision. For both our sakes.
’ She looked so composed and unruffled standing there in her pressed physio tunic, her hair neatly styled behind her ears, like the professional clinician she was.
Her lack of emotion made the dead weight in his stomach sink further.
He was in turmoil, while she was casually thinking it over, as if the decision was no more taxing than whether to have chicken or fish for dinner.
He tried again. ‘I get that, but this isn’t just about the way you feel. It’s not a decision you get to make solo. I get a say in this too.’ Now he sounded desperate, great. ‘So, that’s why I think we should arrange a date. More research is needed in order for us to decide what happens next.’
Her lips twitched. ‘Research?’ She was definitely trying not to laugh.
‘It’s the logical thing to do. We know we’re attracted to each other, and we know there’s chemistry between us. There are a load of positives.’
She openly smiled. ‘I agree.’
‘There are also a few negatives.’ He flinched.
‘Sorry, not negatives, I don’t mean that.
What I’m trying to say, and badly, is that we both made assumptions about each other in the beginning that have turned out to be incorrect.
Or, at least, it’s only part of who we are.
We need to fill in the gaps and see if the good stuff outweighs the doubts. ’
She shrugged. ‘Okay.’
He waited a beat, but nothing more was forthcoming. ‘Okay?’
‘It’s a solid plan. Dating is the logical next step, a way of working out whether this thing between us has mileage, or whether it was just a moment in time. A very nice moment, it has to be said, but it’s not enough to base a long-term decision on.’
He swallowed awkwardly. ‘So we’re in agreement?’
She floored him with one of her killer smiles as she collected her bag and headed for the door. ‘Tomorrow night, Bertie Blossoms. 7pm. Don’t be late.’
‘I won’t.’ He watched her open the door. ‘Right. Good. Well, that’s sorted. See you tomorrow.’
She’d almost stepped out of the door, before turning back and walking purposely over to him and kissing him, her bag dropping to the floor with a loud thud.
He hadn’t seen it coming and had no time to prepare.
Her arms wrapped around him, her body leaned into him, and she kissed him with such force he almost fell backwards.
He’d barely had a chance to reciprocate when she pulled away. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about the elevator, okay? You’ll get there.’ And with that, she picked up her bag and disappeared out of the door.
He was left standing there like a gormless idiot, blinking after her. Well, okay then.
That was good, right? She’d agreed to a date and she’d kissed him. Things were looking up.
He headed back into his office, his head repeating this latest encounter.
Her kiss had set off a buzz in his blood like he’d been injected with neat adrenaline.
He hadn’t wanted it to end. He definitely wanted it to happen again.
She’d agreed to a date. The ball was in his court, he couldn’t fumble his chance.
Checking his phone, he saw Connor’s message asking him where he was.
He checked the time. He was supposed to be at the community centre helping Connor run the basketball session. When had it got so late?