Page 25 of Take My Breath Away
But it’ll never be me…
Fuck it. I really need to stop thinking like this. I’m tired, it’s been a long week, I’ve got a lot on my mind. That’s all it is and, anyway, he’s just as good as said he steers clear ofcoupledom.
As soon as he’s back in his seat, James doesn’t waste any time.
“I was with somebody for four years. I was in my mid-thirties, so I don’t have the excuse of having been too young to have tried the whole settling down thing. We lived together. Alex was — is — his name. He was lovely. Kind, gentle, thoughtful. It was impossible not to love him—”
“And did you?” I burst out, unable to stop the words flying out of my mouth. Mortification grabs me by the throat. “I am so sorry, that was…”
James gives a half shrug. “Yes, I did. The problem was I didn’t love him enough. That’s what he said, when we finally split up, and he was right. Everything was great, at first, being the loving and committed couple but the novelty wore off. For me.”
Oh. I know what’s coming and James’ lips twist in a small, humourless smile.
“Other men. Temptation, lots of temptation I didn’t try very hard to resist. We tried to mend what had been damaged, what I’d damaged, because the fault was all mine. We even went for couple’s counselling.”
He barks out a hard laugh, and takes a slug of his drink.
“It was a waste of time, because I knew what the issue was. It was as though I was condemning myself to eating the same meal at the same time every single day, when all I really wanted was the never ending choice of a constantly changing smorgasbord. Which is just another way of saying that I didn’t want to tie myself down to one man. Who in their right mind would put up with that? Not Alex, not in the end. When we split up, I made my share of the house we’d bought together over to him. It felt like the right thing to do. I walked away with nothing.”
James’ lips set in a straight line, his eyes darker somehow, and guarded. It’s as though he’s pulled on a mask. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking, but those last words… They resonate with something that sounds like sadness.
He smiles, that crooked smile that’s so typically James, bringing the life back to his features.
“It’s not an untypical story, I don’t think. Two people who want different things from life. I like to claim it’s hereditary. My grandfather had a whole separate family. My parents, before they died, remained married but both had always been serial adulterers, and my brother makes no secret of his numerous affairs and the resultant offspring. At least that isn’t an issue for me.” He tilts his head and gazes at me, one brow cocked. “Do you think I’m a complete and utter bastard, or just a common and garden, plain and simple one?”
“You’re truthful at least, which is something. You’re clear about what you do and what you don’t want. I suppose anybody you got involved with would know where they stood.”
He huffs, or kind of, which I take to be confirmation. He’s right about it being a common enough story, but something heavy and dull seems to settle in my stomach.
“What happened to him? To Alex?” The need to know what became of the man James didn’t love enough claws at me.
“Oh, he found the life and the happiness he’d never have got from me. He’s been married for a few years, now, and the last I heard he and his husband were living in a French farmhouse growing grapes and raising chickens. Or goats. Well, some species of smelly animal.”
It’s a nice image, but I keep that to myself. I open my mouth to say something, but whatever it is it’s knocked out of me as I gasp and lunge forward over the table, spilling most of my drink. Twisting around, there’s a beefy guy standing behind me. Clutching a pint, he’s swaying and slopping most of it over the side. He’s plastered.
“Watch what you’re doing, you idiot.” James’ voice, which is more of a growl, is hard and menacing, and my attention darts back to him. His eyes are narrowed slits. Cold and dangerous, they’re fixed on the guy who’s staggered into me.
“It was an accident, s’all. No need to get narky.” The guy’s slurring slightly. His eyes slide to me, and he grins. “Sorry gorgeous.” He slaps his hand hard on my shoulder, almost pushing me face down on the table.
“Get off—” I try to shake him off, but his meaty paw’s heavy.
“Take your hand off him. Now.”
James’ voice, clear, clipped, each word so sharp it could draw blood.
The drunk’s hand jerks off my shoulder, and he stumbles back a step.
James is sitting up ramrod straight, not a muscle moving. Tense and coiled, he’s ready to spring into action in a heartbeat.
My heart thunders in my chest, and I look from James, still and icy calm, then back to the drunk.
The guy’s in danger, and he knows it even though he’s pissed. Something’s pierced the beer haze and he’s wondering what to do and how to save face. The small group of men he’s with stop talking and they’re looking between us, at this quiet little stand-off. The drunk grins but it’s more like a grimace, as he takes another step back and holds up the hand not clutching what’s left of his pint.
“Sorry. An accident, okay?”
James smiles, as warm as an iceberg, and the guy mumbles anothersorryas he turns round to his mates. As one, they move away a few paces.
“Are you okay?” James asks, turning his attention back to me, his eyes full of concern.
