The American Lover Page 5

  “Absolutely not,” I winked back.

  Chapter 3 - Faith

  As I walked into my flat after dropping Caleb off at his hotel, I picked up my favourite framed photo of Drew that I spoke to every day, and lovingly stroked his face in the picture.

  “Well, I’ve just got through another day without you, Drew. A Monday as well. And you know what? I even laughed just now. Can you believe that? I just wish it’d been you I’d been sharing a joke with.”

  My Drew. My heart still ached almost to breaking point because of how much I missed him, even after two long years of existing without him in my life.

  Tall and slim with long legs, thick light brown hair, green eyes, and cheek bones to die for. It’d been his cheekbones I’d first fallen in love with. Such a handsome face. He’d been far better looking than me, but for some reason he’d found me attractive, and we’d never looked back once we started going out. We’d met at a party when I was sixteen and he was eighteen, and all through the years I'd been at college and university, and he’d been completing his apprenticeship, then setting up his own business, we’d been there for each other.

  We’d argued and rowed, of course, but we’d never split up, not once. We’d thought we had everything to look forward to back then…

  I was brought back to the present by a loud meowing.

  “Oh, sorry, Stan. I expect you’re hungry aren’t you?”

  Stan meowed loudly again - he was a very vocal cat - as he wrapped himself around my legs. I don't think I could really claim to own him, rather, in his eyes he owned me, and was trying his best to train this rather stupid and unreliable human slave up to his required standard.

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I had to go to a wretched work thing. You know how it is.”

  Stan meowed in reply, as he followed me to the kitchen, and then watched intently as I got his cat food out and opened the tin.

  “Cupboard love, that’s what you’re all about isn’t it?” I smiled, as I watched him pounce on the dish of food I placed on the floor for him. “Even though I let you share my bed, eh?”

  I was perfectly aware that I was turning into a mad cat woman, the way I chatted to Stan. But he didn't seem to mind that sometimes I found it helpful to say what I was thinking out loud. And Stan never judged me, or told me to pull myself together if I ended up crying. He just meowed and jumped up on my lap for me to stroke his soft white and tabby fur.

  “Working with the Yank they sent over wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” I confided in him. “It’s this guy called Caleb, and he’s actually alright to work with. And I think he’s already worked out for himself what plonkers John and Steve are. He’s very good looking too.” Stan paused from his meal to glance up at me. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s the ultra-flashy, smart-suited, kind of guy, not my type at all, so I’m just saying, that’s all. Just an observation. I’ve never met a Caleb before. All very American I suppose. As he would be, being an American. Oh, don’t listen to me, I'm tired and talking drivel. I’m going to get ready for bed. I have another day to get through tomorrow, don't I?”

  ***

  Caleb and I were sitting together having our lunch in the staff canteen on Tuesday, when I got a call from Harriet on my mobile. I smiled as I took her call.

  “Hey, Harry, how’s it going?”

  She lived in the flat above mine, and we’d become best friends soon after she’d moved in, a few years back. She’d been an absolute rock since Drew died, and was one of the reasons I'd not moved out of my flat. That, along with the fact that I could sometimes pretend nothing had changed if I was still in the home that Drew and I had set up together - for a few precious seconds anyhow.

  “I’m good. Just checking we’re still on for tomorrow evening?” she queried.

  Harry and I usually got together about once a week whenever she was around and not jetting off somewhere in her job as a flight attendant. Between her, and my family, I was never allowed to wallow by myself for very long.

  “Of course. I expect Stan will come along too - you don't mind having a threesome with him, do you?”

  Caleb spluttered on his food as he looked over at me, which made me realise how my side of the conversation must sound to him. But his shocked expression was too funny for words, so I decided to play things up.

  “No, of course that’s fine. You do know Stan is an unfaithful male tart who sneaks up to my bedroom when you’re out?” Harriet replied.

  “That’s okay. We have an understanding, an open relationship, so I don't mind if Stan sleeps with other women,” I stated coolly.

  Caleb stared at me, clearly gobsmacked that the little English mouse sitting in front of him seemed to have such a free-minded attitude.

  “Okay, so you’ll be along at about seven, as usual?” Harriet checked.

  “Sure, see you tomorrow. Looking forward to hooking up.” I finished the call and put my phone away, keeping my face impassive while I waited for Caleb’s reaction.

  “So… umm... I guess that’s why you’re not coming to this golf club dinner Steve’s got planned for tomorrow evening. He said something about you having a prior engagement?” Caleb asked, looking rather confused and uncomfortable.

  “That’s right, I have a date with Harry and Stan, and I didn't think it’d be fair to disappoint them at such short notice. But I’m sure you’ll have a great time at Steve’s golf club,” I said sweetly, as I struggled to keep a straight face. For my part, I was just relieved I'd got an excuse to get out of what would undoubtedly be a dreadful evening, as I imagined that Steve’s exclusive golf club would be filled with more of the same ghastly types as him.

  “Look Faith, tell me to butt out here, but are you sure you know what you’re doing? How well do you know these guys Harry and Stan? I'd hate for you to get into something… risky,” Caleb asked hesitantly.

  “I can look after myself. You don't need to concern yourself,” I replied somewhat haughtily, thinking him rather a hypocrite with double standards. I imagined in his book, it was alright for him to indulge in whatever type of bedroom activity took his fancy, but not alright for me, just because I was a female.

  “Forgive me but you seem kinda vulnerable, and there are men out there who take advantage of vulnerable women,” he frowned.

  I was about to tell him that yes, he should butt out - until I looked into his face, and saw what seemed to be real, genuine concern etched there. Caleb might be a player, but maybe he was an alright kind of a bloke as well. After that, I couldn’t keep up the pretence - I've always been a hopeless liar anyway.

  “It’s okay. I’m just winding you up. You needn’t worry on my behalf. I’m not into any kind of kinky sex. Harry, aka Harriet, is my friend and neighbour, and Stan is my cat,” I confessed.

  “Ah right. I see,” he smiled back in relief. “Jeez, you really had me going there for a minute.”

  “Actually, nothing could be further from the truth. I couldn’t… I haven't had sex… not since Drew died.” I suddenly realised what I'd said and wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. “God, did I really just say that out loud? Why on earth am I telling you this!”

  “Sympathetic Stranger Syndrome. Easier to tell a stranger things than someone close to you.” he replied coolly. “Don't worry. I’m actually a pretty decent listener, if you wanted someone to talk to. And I do have some idea how hard it is to move on after your life takes a totally different direction from the one you’d always envisaged. ”

  “Look, I think it’s about time we got back to work isn’t it?”

  Mortified, I quickly changed the subject and stood up ready to head back to the office. But Caleb gently caught hold of my arm and held me back.

  “I mean it, Faith. You might find it helpful to get a different perspective on things. I expect you feel you have to put on a brave face for your friends and family, and you’d probably die rather than discuss anything like having a sex life again with them.”

  I laughed. “That�
�s certainly true as far as my family is concerned.”

  “See, that’s where a sympathetic stranger like me comes in. One who is open minded and has some relevant experience.”

  “What are you, some kind of a counsellor, on a secret mission from head office?” I joked.

  “Now there’s a thought for a new career direction,” he quipped back, although he looked rather uncomfortable for some reason. “But I mean it. I have hours of spare time to kill while I'm over here, especially in the evenings.”

  “Caleb, that’s very sweet of you, but I'm sure you’d much rather spend an evening sampling some of London’s nightlife, rather than listen to me droning on about all sorts of crappy stuff,” I insisted firmly. “Now, let’s get back to work.”

  ***

  “So what’s this Yank like that you’re having to work with? Is it that dreadful woman you thought they’d be sending over?”

  I’d moaned to Harry at the weekend about having this assignment sprung on me, so now she was quizzing me as we were sitting at her table eating our spag bol, sharing a nice bottle of red wine. Stan was snoozing as he lay stretched out on her sofa, making himself perfectly at home, in the way that cats do.

  “Actually, turned out they sent a drop dead gorgeous guy, as it happens,” I raised my eyebrows expectantly as I waited for her reaction to this tasty bit of gossip. I was not disappointed.

  “What? A guy? Why did I not know this before? Do you have pictures of him as evidence of his gorgeousness?” she shrieked.

  “No, I don’t have pictures, Harry. But trust me, he may not be my type, but I’m sure you’d think he was sex on legs, especially as he has a voice and accent to disintegrate your undies.”

  She hurried off, before quickly reappearing with her laptop.

  “I need to see what this guy looks like for myself, if he’s actually pinged up on your radar. Is his picture on the bank’s web site? Or have you taken a few sneaky pictures of him on your mobile?”

  “Er no, in case you’ve forgotten, my job involves accessing highly sensitive and confidential banking data. Flashing a camera phone around while working with the executive responsible for security would probably not be the most sensible career move,” I pointed out.

  “What’s his name? And is he single? Please tell me you’ve at least found that out.” Harry sat poised with her laptop, ready to search the American Western website.

  “Caleb Mackenzie. And he’s told me he’s divorced.”

  She frowned as she studied the screen.

  “What a boring website they have. No personal pictures at all. How disappointing,” she sighed. “I’ll just have to take your word for how gorgeous this Caleb is, unless maybe you can sneak a picture of him to me while you're on your lunch break or something?”

  “No, Harry, I’m not going to start acting like a stupid teenage stalker just to satisfy your curiosity,” I stated firmly. As Harriet was Virgin Atlantic cabin crew, she regularly sent me pictures of various celebs that were on her flights. It was just a shame that a lot of the time I hadn’t got a clue who these supposed celebs were.

  “Well, describe him to me, at least.”

  “Tall, dark and handsome about covers Caleb Mackenzie. But he knows it, he’s clearly used to female attention.”

  “Oh, is he up himself? That’s a shame,” Harry sighed.

  “I wouldn’t say that exactly. He just seems comfortable in his own skin, he exudes this easy confidence. But he’s alright actually. Easy to work with, and at least for a Yank, he has a decent sense of humour. He doesn’t bullshit either, even though John and Steve are practically crawling up his arse trying to impress him.”

  “Eeww, that must make you want to puke,” Harry shuddered. She’d listened to me complaining enough times about John and Steve to understand what I meant. “But at least it sounds as if you get on alright with this Caleb. You know, maybe you should consider having some fun with him. Maybe he could provide a way for you to finally let yourself go and start moving forward.” She winked suggestively as she nudged me.

  “Don’t be so ridiculous, Harry! Caleb’s my boss’s boss’s boss, a senior executive over from the States for just a week, never to be seen again once he goes back,” I exclaimed in horror, thinking of my embarrassing confession to him yesterday. Why on earth I’d blurted out that I hadn't had sex with anyone since Drew had died, I had no idea. But I had to admit, Caleb had been really sweet, saying he was a good listener if I needed a sympathetic ear, and he’d seemed very sincere.

  “Which is why he could be perfect,” Harry insisted. “However it turns out, he’ll be gone, hundreds of miles away, so that’ll be a definite end to your fling, with no embarrassment. Think about it. You’ve been fretting about how to move on, how to get back into dating again, which you know you have to at some point, unless you’re going to be celibate for the rest of your life.”

  “How many times have we had this conversation before?” I sighed.

  “Yes, and you never do anything about it, do you? Look, I know you’re not ready for any kind of a serious relationship yet, but why not grab this chance to spend some time with a sexy, handsome hunk, instead of being on your own as you usually are most evenings? Who knows, maybe it could lead to you having some hot sex with him, especially as there’d be no further expectations on either side, as you know he’s only here for a few days. And if you did, it would hopefully boost your confidence, break the ice, so to speak, for when you do meet someone you might be interested in having a relationship with. Trust me, in my experience, a man like this Caleb will almost certainly be great in the sack, and as he’s got time to kill while he’s over here for the week, I should think he’d be only too happy to have a lovely distraction like you.”

  “This is a ridiculous conversation, Harry. Caleb is absolutely not my type, and anyway, men like him aren’t interested in women like me,” I stated in an attempt to quash her outrageous suggestion.

  “Why not?” Harry persisted.

  “Oh come on, let’s get real. Even if I were to take seriously what you’re suggesting, curvy, voluptuous and sexy, that’s what Caleb would be looking for. Not a skinny little frump like me,” I shrugged.

  “Why do you do this, putting yourself down all the time? You have a great figure - Drew certainly thought you were sexy and couldn’t keep his hands off you, could he?” Harry scowled as she stared at me.

  I couldn’t deny she’d witnessed the way Drew and I had been together many times, and that she was right, we had been great together.

  I shrugged again, as I twirled the wine glass around in my fingers.

  “That was just Drew. It was different with him, because we just had this special connection, which for some weird reason meant he really fancied me. But Drew was a one off, and I don’t expect to find someone like him again. I’m not his type, so I’m certain Caleb would never be interested in me in that way, even if we do get on okay at work.”

  “Faith, you’re very attractive, if you’d only make the best of yourself, instead of wearing horrid baggy clothes all the time, almost as some form of purdah.” Harry treated my baggy track bottoms and loose hoody to a look of complete disdain.

  “I just like my clothes to be comfortable, that’s all. And I don’t think having my boobs falling out of my top, or my trousers so tight my bum looks like a couple ferrets fighting to get out, would give the right impression at the office,” I argued.

  It was alright for Harry, she had her sexy red Virgin Atlantic uniform to showcase her gorgeous figure while she was working, but to be honest, she was always perfectly groomed in any case, working or not. She had long glossy dark brown hair, big chocolate brown eyes and killer dimples when she smiled. But her beauty wasn’t just skin deep. She was one of those rare people - as attractive on the inside as she was on the outside.

  “Your sisters agree with me. Bryony says you’re all going shopping on Saturday, and she’s going to take you in hand to get you sorted out with some more flattering c
lothes,” Harry informed me.

  “You lot really need to stop ganging up on me. I’ll put up with Bryony bossing me around to pick out a bridesmaid dress for her wedding, but that’s as far as it goes,” I said firmly. “You know I don't really do the whole girly thing with dresses and skirts.”

  I was the youngest of three sisters, and I'd always been the tom boy. Bryony, my eldest sister, was getting married to Alec in August, having put off her wedding plans while I was trying to come to terms with losing Drew. I also realised that my other sister, Megan, who’d married Paul the same year that Drew and I had got married, desperately wanted to start a family. But she’d put those plans on hold for fear of upsetting me, knowing it would be a painful reminder that Drew and I had also planned to have babies around this time.

  Realising my family were putting their lives on hold while they were waiting for me to get a grip, was what had made me try harder to start living again, instead of barely existing and struggling to get through each day. My sisters and I had always been close, and when my grieving fog had finally started lifting enough for me to see what was happening around me, I was horrified. I didn’t want my sadness affecting their lives in this way. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, so I was doing my best to convince them that I didn’t begrudge them one iota of their happiness. Seeing them happy made me happy. Bryony should get married. Megan should have babies. I could be a bridesmaid. I could be an aunt. Somehow. For them I could do it.

  “Megan agrees with me that you have great legs, so even if you won’t wear skirts or dresses, you should at least get some new skinny trousers and jeans to show them off, instead of hiding them in those disgusting shapeless things you insist on wearing all the time,” Harry pronounced.

  “Oh please don’t hold back, Harry. Feel free to say what you really think about my choice of clothes,” I replied sarcastically.