Twice In A Lifetime

“Feel free to picture me naked.” When his smile deepened, the dimple on his right cheek appeared.

“No, thank you.” But she was. She was remembering the first time she had seen him naked and hard for her. She had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the scene playing in her head. She needed to stop seeing him the way he was. He wasn’t hers any more.

“Suit yourself, then,” he said as he led her past a sitting room to a large bedroom.

“Take my room. I will have the guest room at the front.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to take your room.”

“Take it. I work odd hours. I don’t want to wake you.”

“Are you sure?” She was about to say something about him being kind enough to let her stay with him and then she remembered she wouldn’t need a place to stay if it weren’t for him. “Fine. I will take it,” she said a bit more harshly than she had intended.

She laid her bag on a chair and sat down on the king-size bed, the fluffy white duvet cover puffed up on either side of her hips. She glanced at the wood and metal frame of the headboard and wondered about all the things he had done in this bed and all the women he had done them with. Why she cared was beyond her; it wasn’t as if she had been celibate for the last ten years, yet there was a smug satisfaction in knowing she was his first.

“If you want any clothes washed, just leave them in the hamper. The maid will get them in the morning. If you’re hungry, just phone room service. I have a menu in the bedside table.”

The sound of room service made her mouth water and her overdraft hurt. She pulled out the menu and was reminded again how much she could not afford this time away. She only had a single change of clothes, and those were meant for when she landed back at Heathrow. The only clothes she had packed were a wool jumper and another pair of jeans. She would melt if she put on a jumper but she doubted she could afford to buy anything else; something told her Dubai wasn’t a cheap place to shop. She glanced at the clock radio beside the bed. She still had time to make her flight. “Look, Liam. I need to get home. I can’t afford to stay here. I don’t have any clothes and I can’t even afford a starter off this menu. And quite frankly any place without Irn-Bru is not a place I want to be.” She tried to make light of the situation. It felt awkward admitting to Liam she could not afford to even visit his new life.

He looked at her incredulously. “I think I can afford some holiday clothes and a meal or two.”

“I am sure you can. We have established that. You are obscenely rich and I am still as working class as you can get. You have a jet and I have a Fiat Punto that barely passed its MOT. If you are keeping score, that is another point to you.”

“You are the only one keeping score.” He sat down on the bed beside her. He took the menu from her. “What would you like?”

She shifted along the bed so their legs were no longer touching. She would like to not feel like the poor relation. She would like to feel as if she knew this stranger beside her. She would like to be on the flight home. There were a million things she wanted and none of them were being here with him. “No, thanks. I am not hungry.”

“I can hear your stomach growling.”

“I told you I can’t afford anything on the menu.”

“And I told you I could. I feel like we are talking in circles here. Just tell me what you would like.”

“I am not going to let you buy me dinner.”

“Why not? I am going to have dinner.”

“Because…” There was so much to say but her pride stopped her.

“Because you never want to be indebted to anyone. You always have to stand on your own two feet,” he said as if he were reading her mind.

“Maybe,” she admitted. She never depended on anyone for anything. The last person she had counted on was Liam, and that had not ended well.

“It’s just dinner and some clothes. I will give you my card and I will have my driver take you to the Mall of the Emirates. You can get whatever you need there.”

“I am not going to let you buy me clothes. I don’t need a handout.”

“Why is it you spend your life helping people, giving them handouts as you call them, but when the tables are turned you refuse to accept anything?”

“It is totally different and you know it.”

“Why? Because you are somehow above needing help? Why, Sarah, I would say that makes you a snob.”

He was baiting her and damn her if she didn’t fall for it. “I am not going to owe you anything.”

“You owed me something as soon as you started calling in favours for your mate.”

“What do you want from me? Did you want me to see how well you have done? How rich you are? Because I see it. Well done, Liam.”

He stood up and crossed to the door. “I am ordering you a steak. It will be here in an hour. I suggest you use the time to get cleaned up. There are fresh towels in the bathroom. You can wear my dressing gown while I send down your clothes to be washed.”

She collapsed down on the bed. She could use a shower. But she did not want to let him think she was obeying him.

“Screw it,” she murmured under her breath. She was going to have a shower because she wanted a shower. To hell with what he thought of her motives.

She closed her eyes and let the hot water spray against her. In addition to the one large shower head, there were strategically placed jets, each one working its magic on her tight muscles. And if she was not mistaken there was a hint of mint and tea-tree oil in the air. No idea where it was coming from but it smelled divine. It was like being in a day spa, only better because no one was coming at her with hot wax. She could get used to this.

She unfolded a towel that was as big as a sheet and softer than crushed velvet. She wrapped herself up and sighed. Yes, she definitely could get used to this.

She put on his robe and rolled up the sleeves to her elbows. She glanced at the clock—seven-fifteen, which made it just after four in the UK. The office would still be open for the next forty-five minutes. God only knew how much a mobile call to Scotland would cost. She decided to be safe and text her project manager instead. A text came with the added bonus of not having to explain any of the awkward details.

Thirty seconds later her phone rang. It was Leslie, the mother hen of Fresh Start. Leslie was the one who always made sure people, namely Sarah, looked after themselves, and took a tea break every once in a while.

“Hello, lovey,” Sarah said.

“Gillian just got your text. We thought you would be back in the office tomorrow morning.” Sarah smiled at Leslie’s gruff manner. Leslie’s nastiest tone was saved for those she loved. The meaner she appeared, the more she cared. It was just her way.

“No, something came up. I have three intake meetings this week but Gillian or Tara can cover them. And I thought you could cover the harm-reduction seminar I have scheduled for Thursday, if you wouldn’t mind. I know it is short notice but you are the best trainer we have.” It wasn’t just flattery. Fresh Start could not function without Leslie.

“Aye, that’s fine. We will be fine. I just wanted to let you know about your granny.”

Sarah’s heart stopped; her chest constricted until it was painful to breathe. “Is she…did she…?” She could not get the words out. If something happened to her granny, she did not know what she would do. She was all Sarah had, the only person who had not left her.

“She will be fine. She just broke her hip.”

Relief washed over her. Hips mended; her heart wouldn’t if something happened to her granny and she wasn’t there. “Is she in the New Royal?”

“Aye.”

“Right, thanks. I am going to call now.” Sarah hung up the phone without saying goodbye. It was rude but Leslie would understand. Sarah’s heart was now pounding against her ribs. Luckily she knew the number for the Royal Infirmary by heart as not a week went by that didn’t involve a call to the hospital to check on service users.

Her call was transferred three times before it reached the staff nurse on Granny’s ward.

“Miss Campbell, your grandmother said you would be on the phone within twenty minutes of her getting through the doors and she was not far off.” The nurse laughed.

“Is she all right? No, that is a silly question, of course she is not all right. She has a broken hip. I mean is she going to be all right?”

“She will be fine. The consultant is in speaking with her right now. If there are no emergencies her surgery will be scheduled for tomorrow morning—”