‘Destined to...’ 2-Book Collection: Destined to Play, Destined to Feel

That memory has certainly destabilised me more than I would have liked. Stay calm and composed, you are a professional, married woman, a mother of two … Enough with the self-talk!

I head straight through the lobby of the five-star hotel to the ladies room in an attempt to stabilise my stomach. What is going on with me today? I shake my head and try to pull myself together. The tingle down below is certainly not helping to calm my nerves nor my ability to control my physiology. Quite frustrating to say the least. How is it that I felt perfectly comfortable lecturing to hundreds of people just hours ago, yet now my fingers are trembling so badly that I can barely unwind my lipstick?

I gaze into the mirror while both hands grip the basin. I notice the slight wrinkles around my eyes. Were they there last time I saw Jeremy? Maybe I should have taken my friend’s advice and given Botox a try, in her words ‘before it’s too late!’ I shudder at the thought of it. I can’t stand anything around my eyes let alone the idea of an injection piercing through such sensitive skin. Oh well, I think to myself, I’ll just have to put up with what I see in the mirror until they come up with something a little less invasive.

Distracted and flustered, I can’t decide whether to leave my hair up or take it out. I’m grateful my hair is still dark and as yet I haven’t managed to find a random grey strand, although I’m sure that day isn’t far off. I figure I will stay with the more professional look and leave it up; I am in a suit after all. Right, all ready to go, or at least as ready as I will ever be. Not too bad for thirty-six. I take a final glance in the mirror, and think it could certainly be worse, as I desperately search for a positive spin. Deep down, I am very much looking forward to catching up with Jeremy. So I let myself run with that emotion as my mind takes me on another quick trip down memory lane …

Jeremy and I were at university together, although he was two years ahead of me. My cousin introduced us during my first year, as they were both in the same water polo team. I’m not absolutely sure how our acquaintance evolved but he was a lot of fun and as we spent more and more time together we eventually became best friends, almost by default. As time went by we explored drinking, drugs and sex — as many uni students do. Partners came and went throughout our years of study but we were always there for each other, first and foremost. It was difficult for people to describe, let alone determine, our relationship with each other, more than likely because it was also impossible for us. After a while, our friends didn’t bother to try and label us and just accepted that Jeremy and I would be friends forever, whatever came our way. Funnily enough, over time, we eventually accepted it too …

Life took us in different directions post-university. Jeremy continued his studies before getting his pilot’s licence and joining the flying doctor service for a truly Australian outback experience, which he loved and I was always a little jealous of (the pilot’s licence anyway). I worked in London focusing on building strong financial foundations before further exploring psychology in the workplace.

We caught up in various locations around the globe over the next decade, particularly in Europe where his medical research brought him regularly to London. We had many short funfilled flings that are treasured memories, before we embarked on the serious responsibilities of life. Although we knew our relationship was significant in our lives, we understood that it would never be long-term, or at least I knew that Jeremy was far from ready to settle down, unlike me. It was the ‘unspoken word’ between us, although, deep down, we knew it to be a fully acknowledged reality.

His career was of paramount importance to him and I desperately wanted to start a family and our differing worlds drifted apart. Jeremy was offered a lucrative research scholarship at Harvard to further his studies and moved to America. I met my English husband, Robert, in London and we returned together to Australia. I knew I needed to put my explicit sexual past with Jeremy behind me and settle down to start a family and pursue my career academically. Which is exactly what I did.

Although we caught up for the odd dinner here and there, for the next decade or so, we were essentially on opposite sides of the planet. And our lives continued separately …

I pull my mind back to the here and now and tell myself firmly that camping out in the ladies is just wasting the precious time we will have together — so get moving! I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, straighten my shoulders, hold my head high, swing open the door and walk confidently out toward the man who is my best friend and my ex-lover.

As my eyes sweep the lobby bar, my confidence evaporates as quickly as it had been conjured up — he is not here. Disappointment washes over me with such ferocity, I have to lower my hand to the lounge to maintain my standing position. Typical, I think to myself; I started the day with butterflies and ridiculous thoughts, like a teenager anticipating seeing their ultimate pop idol for the first time, and ended it talking to myself in the ladies room of a flash hotel.

I do know how hectic Jeremy’s life is and that his schedule is ever-changing. Of course it would be highly unlikely for him to catch up with me just because we both happen to be coincidentally in Sydney this weekend. I am disappointed that I have wasted so much nervous energy for nothing, yet a part of me feels pleased that I am still able to feel those sensations when I had thought they were long gone. It serves me right really; I should have stayed and had drinks with Samuel and his colleagues. But I eagerly declined knowing I would be meeting with Jeremy and didn’t want to be late.

Jeremy’s assistant had said he would be caught up in meetings most of the afternoon. Just as I think to check my phone for messages, a man in uniform with a concierge badge on approaches me.

‘Excuse me. Doctor Alexandra Blake?’

‘Oh. Yes.’

‘A gentleman asked me to pass this message on to you and convey his sincere apologies that he is unable to meet you here.’

My heart sinks as my fears are now confirmed; he can’t make it. Disappointment washes over me all over again.

He hands me an envelope. ‘Thank you very much, Doctor Blake. If there is anything I can help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask.’

I smile as much to myself as to the concierge. Jeremy always insisted on calling me ‘Doctor’ once I graduated with my PhD, even though he is the true medical doctor and I am the philosophical kind. He knows I’m not good at medical emergencies and have an inherent fear of hospitals, so it was always a joke between us.

I take a seat on the velvet lounge and open the envelope to pull out the typed note inside:

To my dearest friend, Doctor A. Blake,

My sincere apologies for leaving you stranded in the hotel lobby this Friday evening. I had a few unavoidable errands come up at the last minute, which have caused some delays. Everything seems to be in order now and I would very much appreciate you joining me upstairs for a drink. It has been too long!

Please find the security key for the penthouse floor in the envelope.

I eagerly anticipate your arrival.

Love,

J. xo

My stomach flips and turns like a gymnast competing for the Olympic gold medal. Once again I am instantly transformed into a teenage groupie — he is here after all! But what is he doing in the penthouse? The Jeremy I knew always shunned the flashier side of life, preferring to maintain a more austere public persona. Although, if I remember rightly, when surrounded by those who knew him well, he could certainly relax into a mischievous rebel at times, enjoying the finer things life had to offer. Perhaps Samuel’s comments weren’t misguided when mentioning the bottomless funding of pharmaceutical companies. I can only wonder if the Jeremy of old still exists in the Jeremy of now.

***

As I gather myself together both mentally and physically, I notice the concierge still hovering in the background — does he have nothing better to do? The thought randomly floats through my brain.

‘Is everything in order, Doctor Blake, can I help in any way?’

I wonder what expression I have on my face as I turn to look at him. I notice the faintest of smiles at the corner of his mouth, his eyes twinkling. Dumbfounded, I shake my head. ‘No, thank you, I’m fine.’

Was I? I am beginning to wonder. He continues to loiter behind me. I change my mind and turn to him.

‘Actually, yes. Could you please show me the way to the lift for the penthouse?’

‘Of course, Doctor Blake, it would be my pleasure. Right this way and may I take your bags?’

He says it in a way that makes me think he is in on something I don’t quite comprehend, and a strange feeling passes through me. Perhaps I’m just not up to speed on the service at five-star hotels these days. Knowing I’m not feeling exactly normal at this point, I push the thought out of my head and conclude that my mind could easily be playing tricks on me.

‘Thank you, that would be lovely,’ I say politely, and follow him as he leads the way to the lift with my bags in tow.

Seconds later the lift is racing rapidly toward the lofty heights of the penthouse floor. I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm my nerves. What a wonderful idea to have a drink while overlooking the city as twilight descends, always a spectacular view with weather like today. I’m not sure if Jeremy is staying in the hotel, but if he has access to the business lounge we may be able to have complimentary nibbles and drinks. Strange how the concept of free drinks still resonates with me, must be left over from uni days … I let out a little chuckle. The concierge must think I’m crazy.

As the doors open, I realise I am genuinely excited about seeing Jeremy; he is an amazing man and a truly great friend. The disappointment of believing he couldn’t meet me had hit me harder than I ever imagined possible. Now I feel happy, excited and very much looking forward to a wonderful heartfelt reunion as only best friends can.

I am assaulted by the magnificent views in front me as I step out of the lift and into a carpeted room with floor-to-ceiling windows — I had forgotten how truly captivating Sydney Harbour is from these spectacular heights. I take a moment to absorb the visual feast before my eyes. Sparkling blue water with tiny white flecks. Ferries and yachts curve arching ripples across the silky water, and the buildings imbued with a rosy glow, reflecting the light of the sinking sun. Looking around to orientate myself, it seems strange I can’t see any bar on this level.

‘This way please, Doctor.’ I almost forget the concierge is standing beside me with my bag. I check the security card and notice the symbol on it matches the one the wall. I follow the arrows with my eyes as we walk in silence. Finally I find myself standing tentatively in front of large double doors. Before either of us have a moment to press the buzzer, the door flies open in front of us. And standing before me is Jeremy. More sophisticatedly handsome than I had dared allow myself to remember.

‘Hey AB, there you are. Welcome.’

‘Hi,’ I respond, fairly quietly, almost shyly. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘I see Roger found you in the lobby. Thanks for taking care of her for me. I’ll take it from here, cheers.’ He takes my bag from the concierge and ushers me in, closing the door behind me.

‘You’re right; it has been too long, way too long in my opinion.’ He excitedly wraps his arms around me, almost lifting me off the floor in an all-embracing hug, his eyes twinkling all the while.

‘Let me look at you.’ He holds me at arm’s length and his eyes absorb my face, my hair, my body, my legs, right down to my toes. I had forgotten how penetrating his stare could be and it catches me unawares, leaving me suddenly feeling utterly self-conscious. I quickly look away to avoid seeing any further analysis.

‘You look wonderful, Alex, still my young green-eyed Catherine Zeta-Jones,’ he says intently, this time embracing me softly, lightly kissing my forehead, as if giving me his stamp of approval.

‘And you aren’t looking too bad yourself given you’re almost forty, Dr Quinn,’ I say cheekily, needing to immediately lighten the mood, both because of his possessive words and the intense emotions rushing through my body.

I don’t trust myself to fully absorb his appearance but at first glance it doesn’t look like much has changed over the years, except a little salt gently peppering his dark hair. Still confident, toned, mischievous … he does look good. If I’m really honest he looks great, actually; broad, square shoulders, six foot two inches tall, clean shaven. He smells beautiful. It has been many years since I have been this intimate with his spicy, outdoorsy scent but the cloud of arousal it stirs up penetrates deep within my core; his tight round arse looks sensational in his causal trousers. Dear god, I am in sensory overload and I have just arrived … Stop it! Look somewhere else, I scream internally as I command my eyes to slide off his body to the broader environment.

‘Wow, this place is amazing. Are you staying here?’

‘Yes, indeed I am. I’m here for the week.’