Page 25 of The Vow We Made
“Not me. Not this time, but who cares. He’s seriously hot so I wouldn’t worry about how he found you.”
“He is gorgeous, isn't he?” I haven't been this attracted to anyone in a long time and I’m excited about our forthcoming date. “I wonder what he has in mind?”
Her voice turns husky. “I bet I can guess.”
“Stop it!” I nudge her in the side, “I didn’t mean—”
She fake gasps. “Neither did I, filthy girl. Christ, your mind is like a sewer sometimes.”
I shake my head at her cheekiness. “I meant I wondered where he would take me.”
“To heaven, if you’re lucky.”
I roll my eyes then immediately begin to panic. “Shit, what do I wear?”
“Urgh,” Steph groans. “That part we can do later. I need to sleep.” She turns over and pulls the duvet back over her head before I hear a muffled, “My head is bloody raging.”
Not surprised. My partner in crime drank enough to sink a battleship before arriving home during the early hours of this morning. Whatever she feels like now, I hope Faith is feeling a whole lot worse. I mean that in the nicest possible way. I spent most of the night sat by my own bed, worrying if she’d gone into an alcohol-induced coma, but after a while, I gave up. All she did was grunt and snore like a pig. Faith is one of those girls that can go to bed drunk and should feel like shit in the morning, but never does. I wonder then if I should wake her, but it’s still so early. She’ll be in bed until lunchtime and that’s being optimistic.
I can’t be bothered to move from the warmth of Steph’s bed anyway, so instead of getting out, I lay back and stare at the oversized poster of David Beckham in his black boxers. She has it pinned to the ceiling so he can be the one she wakes with every morning. I have to agree, for a man in his forties, he’s definitely still got it. While I study his muscled, tattooed torso, I contemplate if Aiden looks as good as David underneath his fitted shirt. He’s obviously a little younger but is he as well toned, muscular and does he have any tattoos? Perhaps I’ll get the chance to investigate.
AIDEN
I walked through the patient waiting room at the beginning of my ten-hour shift in A&E to find standing room only. As much as I hate to admit it, the sight of this small area swarming with people turned my stomach. During our handover, I found we had seventy-eight people waiting. Only ten had been assessed by the triage nurse at that time. Amongst them, we had a suspected appendicitis, a couple of minor injuries, a patient suffering from breathing difficulties and a possible broken arm. The poor guy was here three hours before radiology could schedule him in for an x-ray.
Then the day ended as it started.
Badly.
My last patient, a 90-year-old man, died before we were able to do anything for him. He’d taken a fall in his own home during the night and knocked his skull on the way down. He lived alone with nobody to check on him, so he lay at the bottom of his stairs for over twenty-four hours, bathed in his own urine and a pool of blood surrounding his head. These are the shifts I find hard; not only as a doctor but as a human being.
Now my shift is over for another day, I sit outside the hospital for a few moments to take stock of what it is I’m trying to achieve. Some days I can’t figure out if I’m making a real difference or not.
My mind drifts against the endless noisy backdrop of sirens, cars and people while my focus blurs against the blue lights now entering the hospital entrance. Instead of running over the endless list of patients I’d seen today, I find myself concentrating all my thoughts towards her. It’s as if she’s swept into my brain to relieve some of the emotional burdens.
As I reach Westminster tube station and head down the escalators, the rush of air from the tunnels below indicates the train is about to arrive. Running the rest of the way, I just make it as the high-pitched beep signals the doors are closing. Tube trains don’t hang around in London and despite being well into the evening, there are no seats available. I grab the ceiling pole in front of me while my mind wanders to the first morning I met Victoria and how I knocked her flying. What the fuck did she think of me then?
I miss my stop for Sloane Square with only one intention. To see her. I exit at Kensington and stride down the tunnel, past various coffee shops and through the arcade until the cold night air hits me like a brick wall. Kensington High Street's lively mix of music, laughter, chatter and traffic invades my eardrums while I take the short walk from the tube. Within 10 minutes the noise fades into the background as I turn into the terraced street where she lives and stand outside her imposing period home.
I had to double check I had the right place when I arrived this morning. It went through my mind this could be one of Will's wind-ups only because this area is definitely on the pricier side of London. I wonder what she does for a living to afford such a prestigious address.
I blow out a huff of icy air into my hands and rub them together while glancing up towards her window. Victoria’s deep honey eyes, sleek, dark, bobbed hair and soft olive skin are unapologetically barging their way in my head. I can’t wait to see her in the flesh and my heart pounds as I get closer to her door.
VICTORIA
Nothing is more welcome than relaxing in a deep Victorian bath at the end of a mad day. I lay back, fully submerged in hot water and rest my head against the back of the tub. My eyes struggle to stay open while steam dances over my skin and that's when I imagine what it would be like to have Aiden at the tap end, massaging oil into my tired legs before exploring the rest of me. How his fingers would feel while they brushed over my thighs, working their way over my stomach then cupping my breasts. It's too early to have these thoughts about a man I hardly know, but the ache to my core is in full control now.
The aroma of jasmine and lavender fill the steamy air around me while I dream of him this way for longer than the twenty minutes I've already been soaking. When the sound of the doorbell catches me unaware and jolts me into action, I'm not wholly overjoyed. Steph is working tonight, so I'm all alone.
I reach for the fluffy white towel on the rail and wrap its warmth around my middle. The doorbell rings again so in my hurry, water spills over the bath as I get out and grab my robe.
“Alright, I’m just coming,” My feet thump against the stairs in haste and without thinking, I swing the door open.
He lifts his head from staring at his feet while the shine in his eyes dazzles me. Aiden James is once again standing on the other side of my door.
My stomach flutters with a thousand butterflies but my head is horrified. Thick strands of hair stick across my eyes and I blow out a quick, short breath from the corner of my mouth. My attempt to clear the wet strands from my vision fails miserably causing my cheeks to flush with heat.
“Aiden,” I say in a high pitched, wobbly tone. “What are you doing here?” I hope it doesn't sound too rude.
