Page 94 of Forever, Maybe
Beside her, Jamie held the bottle in one hand and grabbed her hand with the other. His grip was smaller than Danny’s but firm, his hand cool and dry against hers.
“I have keys to the office,” he announced suddenly. His tone shifted, the theatrical bravado slipping away. His expression grew earnest, even anxious, as he studied her face. Gone was the wolfish grin. Now he looked… vulnerable.
Nell’s mind raced. She’d sobered up, but a wild recklessness thrummed through her veins. If she said yes, was it inevitable where this would lead? It didn’t have to be. They could go to the office, sit, and… drink tea.
“Okay,” she said at last, her voice quieter than she expected. “But we mustn’t…” She trailed off, watching him nod earnestly, reassuring her with his sincerity.
“No, nothing like that,” he said quickly. “I’m just not in the mood to go home yet. Let’s finish the wine somewhere more comfortable. Or I can grab you a cold soft drink if you prefer?”
Nell hesitated for a moment longer before giving him a small smile. “Let’s just see where the night takes us,” she said, her voice steadier now.
Jamie smiled, relief softening his features, and together they started walking, the bottle of wine swinging lazily in his hand.
At the main building, he swiped his key fob and held the door open for her. The place wasn’t entirely deserted—it housed a 24-hour call centre—but the corridors were quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy, alive with the faint hum of fluorescent lights.
As they made their way through the building, Jamie paused at several keypads, punching in codes with the ease of someone who’d done it countless times. They wound through a maze of hallways and staircases, finally emerging on the second floor.
He unlocked the door to their office and deactivated the alarm system. The smoothness of the motion suggested this wasn’t his first after-hours visit. Inside, the office felt different at night—empty desks and dormant computers creating an eerie stillness. The faint hum of electricity from the server room was the only sound, a reminder that the place was never truly asleep.
Jamie led her to the small meeting room. He flipped on only the dim overhead light, casting the space in a warm, muted glow. It was a welcome change from the usual harsh brightness that made it feel more like an interrogation room.
From the water cooler, he grabbed two flimsy plastic cups, pouring wine into each. The ruby liquid looked almost comical in the clear beakers, a far cry from fine dining sophistication.
He handed her a cup, raising his own in a toast. “I mean it. You’re my favourite employee here.”
His lips were already stained with the tell-tale purplish hue of cheap red wine. Nell glanced at her own cup and figured her mouth must look just as ridiculous.
She raised her cup, opting for a matching flourish. “Why, kind sir! You flatter me.”
Jamie shook his head, his expression suddenly earnest. He set his cup down on the table. “No, I mean it. Ireallymean it.” His words came slower now, caught in that repetitive loop of tipsy sincerity.
Before she could respond, he scooted his chair closer, the legs scraping softly against the carpet. Now, he was right in front of her, his face close enough that she could see the faint shadow of red-brown stubble along his jaw.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured.
And then he leant in, kissing her. It was the kind of kiss that reminded her of being a teenager—clumsy and eager, his enthusiasm outpacing his finesse. But there was something disarming about it, something almost endearing in its unpolished honesty.
For a moment, she froze, her mind whirring, and then she leaned into it, matching his eagerness, her own inhibitions dissolving like the last remnants of the wine they’d shared.
She’d been married for seven years. Seven. At twenty-nine, that felt like a lifetime. Before Daniel, there had been only two serious relationships. And now she and Danny were… what? Married? Separated? On a break, like Rachel and Ross in that daft sitcomFriends? Did that make what she was doing now excusable? Was this her “free pass”?
Jamie had been conscientious so far, keeping his hands deliberately away from her body, gripping the armrests of her chair instead as though afraid to overstep. Nell’s hands, however, seemed to have developed a will of their own. They started at his chest, fingers trailing over the soft fabric of his shirt. One hand slid upward to his jaw, pulling him closer, her fingertips tracing the curve of his neck.
The other hand moved downward, fumbling with his shirt buttons. Buttons: the eternal nemesis of spontaneity. After a few frustrating moments, Jamie broke away, catching her hands and refastening the two buttons she’d managed to undo.
“Um, Nell…”
“Um, what?” she challenged, her voice low, teasing. “Are you having a fit of conscience?”
Jamie exhaled, a long, slow breath that seemed to carry the weight of his hesitation. “Oh God… I want this. I want this so much.”
Gone were his usual flourishes—no “dear lady” or “lovely Nell.” His words hit her with unfiltered sincerity, each syllable dismantling her own crumbling defences.
“A one-off,” she murmured. “Just for tonight.”
“Yes, yes,” he said quickly, standing and pulling her to her feet.
She glanced around the room. “Are we really doing thishere?” Her hands drifted back to the stubborn buttons.
