Falling: The Complete Angels Among Us Series

I guess I never thought about it before. Seb needs to be needed. That’s an unexpected surprise.

“She’s lovely, I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t approve or anything…” I can’t continue because I’m unable to explain my feelings. I know that Seb can sense my reservations and is probably misinterpreting them.

Then it happens again. This time it’s a cold feeling, a sharp chill in the air. I look across at the young woman on the table next to us. She’s seated opposite an older woman and I begin to pick up pieces of their conversation. I thought at first it was the waitress at their table, but whoever it was I saw out of the corner of my eye is no longer there. The presence was enough to attract my attention. It’s difficult trying to chat to Seb about the wedding while trying to keep tabs on the conversation taking place three feet away.

Twice, when I turn away to look at Seb then turn back, I catch a glimpse of someone standing to the side of their table. Whoever it is wants me to listen. What do they expect me to do? It seems the younger lady is confiding in her friend that her boyfriend is becoming difficult to live with. Suddenly I’m filled with that familiar déjà vu feeling and what I see is the young lady being pushed down the stairs. She’s lying on the floor but I have no idea if she’s still breathing. Her skin looks grey and her eyes are open and unmoving. I shudder and have to look down so she can’t see the look of shock on my face. Seb is talking to me and I ask him to repeat what he said.

“You haven’t heard a word of it, have you? What’s on your mind, you ought to share it you know. I can sense something’s up. Is it work?”

I can’t explain. Seb wouldn’t understand so I tell him briefly about Mason and the promotion. At the same time I pick up my bag and begin searching through. I know I have a couple of crystals in a pouch and I try to discreetly open it and place one on the table underneath my napkin. Seb seems caught up in what I’m saying and doesn’t appear to notice.

“I can’t believe the man’s making a move on you. Doesn’t he know you’ll scream sexual harassment?”

“It’s not that bad, honestly. I’m probably making it sound worse than it is. Just because Scott didn’t attend evening functions doesn’t mean to say it won’t come up in the future. I’m going to say no because I don’t feel ready, therefore it won’t be an issue.” I feel awful about making conversation simply to distract Seb.

In between I’m keeping an eye on the person at the next table. She asks the waitress where the ladies cloakroom is and I turn to Seb, give him a weak smile, and grab the crystal from under the napkin. I follow a few feet behind her.

In the cloakroom we are alone. She disappears into a cubicle and I feel awkward hanging about. I walk over to a basin, pop the crystal into my pocket, and begin to slowly wash my hands. I look up and smile when she appears next to me. She turns on the tap and water splashes everywhere, spraying over the arm of my jacket.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! The water jet is rather fierce, I wasn’t expecting such force.” She grabs some paper towels and begins to mop up the trail of water. They say everything happens for a reason…

“No problem. It’s better than a trickle, there’s hardly anything flowing out of this tap.” We exchange smiles. “Look, I don’t usually approach people I don’t know, but I’m psychic.” She immediately stops what she’s doing and looks at me, narrowing her eyes. She reacts to the word psychic: clearly it means something to her.

“Really?” she mumbles and I can see a hint of fear in her eyes. She’s a believer.

“Someone in your life is upsetting you and it’s going to get worse if you don’t walk away. I’m talking physical abuse here. Not just a black eye, but broken bones. You need to put yourself first—you’ll make the right decision although it won’t be easy. Have courage.” I thrust my hand into my pocket and pull out the crystal. “I can’t tell you anymore, but the feeling is strong. Here, take this. Keep it with you. It will give you the strength to do what you have to do.”

I hold out the clear rock on my open palm and she immediately picks it up. “Thanks,” she mumbles and I almost run to the door. I’ve done what I can. Now it’s up to her.

Seb looks up and can see I’m preparing to leave.

“A woman on a mission,” he comments. Then he looks at me intently and I grab my things, hurrying to leave before the woman returns to her table. He follows me out a minute or two later, having taken care of the bill.

“What have you done now? Is it something to do with that woman you were watching? Ceri, you have to stop acting weird. One of these days it’s going to go very badly wrong.” Despite the severity of his words he throws his arms around me. “Poor girl,” he whispers into my hair.

Walking back to the office I know that I probably deserve the telling-off Seb gave me. What was I thinking, approaching a total stranger that way? What if she leaves her partner and I’m wrong? What if the vibe I felt was for her friend and not her? I close my eyes for a few seconds and groan inwardly. When I open them it’s like someone has lifted a veil and my thoughts are clear. The message was for her and if she chooses the right path then she will be safe. My instincts tell me she will.

Alex is much happier when I arrive back in the office.

“No rest for the wicked,” I muse. It’s obvious he’s worked through lunch as the remains of a sandwich and a packet of crisps lay next to his keyboard. “I’ve made a decision. I’m not taking the promotion. I’ll tell Mason first thing tomorrow. Are you out tonight?”

He looks up at me, surprised. “Why?”

“I wondered if you wanted to come around to my place for dinner.”

“How odd, most people celebrate taking a promotion, rather than turning one down.” His smile says yes and a warm feeling creeps over me.

“Eight o’clock then. Right, what’s next on the hit list?”

CHAPTER SIX (#ue0d144cd-abbf-5c82-8165-a61a742a62b1)

Baring All (#ue0d144cd-abbf-5c82-8165-a61a742a62b1)

As Alex walks over the threshold, he hands me a beautifully hand-tied bunch of flowers. “Oh, thank you. It really wasn’t necessary, my cooking isn’t that good.”

He grins at me and it’s a good feeling.

“I can’t believe I haven’t invited you over before now.”

“Well, I’d wondered if you were ever going to get around to it!” he retorts. A part of me hopes he’s really thinking ‘it’s about time.’

Our pre-dinner chat is easy and we start on the wine. I’d never noticed before, but he has the sexiest wrists I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing an expensive pair of jeans and a white linen shirt, with the sleeves folded back to his elbow. He has this thin, brown leather tie and the knot is pulled loosely so that it hangs mid-chest level. The top two buttons of his shirt are open and his neck looks inviting. I feel shocked at my reaction and I suppose it’s because I’m used to seeing him in work clothes. His hair is immaculate, his skin is smooth. He’s a man who pays attention to detail. I notice that he never comments on what I wear and he doesn’t appear to have noticed the effort I’ve put in tonight on his behalf. But I haven’t asked him here to try to seduce him because I see him as a challenge, although a part of me thinks it’s such a waste of a perfect guy. I want him to know about the other side of me because our friendship is so strong. I trust him.

He picks at a bowl of olives as he sits on the stool by the butcher’s block, watching me prepare the pasta.

“So why did you ask me around? Is this a date?” he muses, and it throws me. There’s a hint of seriousness in his voice and I begin to feel a little embarrassed.

“We never talk much about out of work stuff. I thought it would be nice to share a few things.” My voice is even but the nerves are starting to kick in. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. Why spoil the relationship we have?

“I thought you preferred it that way.” He shrugs off my comment a little too easily. “Unless, of course, you are finally going to share your dark secret with me.” I spin around in surprise at his words and our eyes meet.

“Only if you share yours,” I retort. He looks down at his drink and then pops another olive into his mouth.

“That depends,” his voice is quiet, gentle. I’ve touched a raw nerve.

“On what?”

“On how honest you are going to be with me.”

Suddenly I feel that this is intense and it’s not what I was expecting. I thought we’d laugh and chat like girlfriends. Maybe he’d admit to being gay and we could talk meaningfully about the dates he’s been on since joining the website. Then I could bare my soul about my angels. For some inexplicable reason I think Alex would understand.

As if it was planned, we reach for our wine glasses in unison and raise them towards each other, toasting the evening ahead.

***

After a bottle and a half of California’s finest rosé Grenache we’re both feeling rather mellow. Dinner, thankfully, is much lighter and we talk about our respective childhoods. It feels cathartic, like starting our friendship anew, leaving behind everything connected to work. I wonder how wise it is to take the lid off the box—to look inside each other’s lives with honesty. But in truth I’m in need of a friend I can trust who is around all the time and I feel Alex has a similar need. It strikes me he’s a chameleon: different things to different people. Is that a coincidence? When he’s with Mason he’s more macho, even his tone becomes more assertive and clipped. With me he’s… well, genderless is the way I would describe it. It’s only recently I’ve allowed myself to think of him in any way other than a colleague, simply because I didn’t think he was into women. I wonder if it’s been the same for him because I’ve kept my distance.

“Sorry?” I don’t catch his words; they are obscured by the clatter of plates while I clear the table. I turn around to look at him. I watch as he drops down onto the sofa and stretches out. I think it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

“I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking and I’ve had far too much already,” he repeats.

“Me too! My head is kind of spinning at the moment. Chill and I’ll make two strong cups of coffee.” I half expect him to vault up from the sofa and offer to make it, but he’s content to relax and that makes me feel I’m being a good host. I smile to myself as I take the empty glasses out to the kitchen.

When I return Alex looks very comfortable, his body melting into the cushions. He takes a first sip of his coffee and grimaces. “You’re right.”

I slip off my shoes and sit down, swinging my legs up to chill out. “What’s that?”

“I do make the best coffee.” Positioned at either end of the long sofa and facing each other, we can’t exactly avoid eye contact