Читать книгу Twice In A Lifetime - Kierney Scott - Страница 12

Sarah woke up and glanced at the digital clock beside the bed – two fifty-seven. Given the blackened sky, it was safe to assume it was still the middle of the night, not two fifty-seven in the afternoon, but she felt as if she could have very well been asleep for an entire day. Her mouth felt as if it had been packed with cotton wool and her arms ached from having them stretched above her for hours. She fumbled with the lamp on the bedside table but gave up after she knocked it over along with what she thought was a stack of books. She searched in the dark for the dressing gown Liam had lent her but she was as successful with that as she was in finding a light. Finally she capitulated, and made her way to the door dressed only in her bra and pants. Liam would be asleep anyway and, even if he wasn’t, it was not as if he hadn’t seen it all before. Granted she was a lot younger and firmer then…

When she opened the door to the hall, she could finally see. City lights flooded through the glass doors that led to the roof terrace. She made her way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, but it was empty except for a carton of orange juice and a few bottles of wine. She got a glass of water, downed it, and filled the cup again before she returned to the living room. She should probably go back to bed to get adjusted to the time change but she wasn’t tired. She needed a book or a television. She looked around the room. Where was the telly? Even she had a telly. She found several remotes and saw speakers in the ceiling, but no television. No food and no telly—this definitely was not civilised living conditions. She reached for the control that looked the most like a television remote. When she pressed the power switch, a large screen dropped from the ceiling and sound filled the room. “Now we are cooking with gas,” Sarah said with a satisfied smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had time to sit and watch telly—no, that was a lie: it was when she was off sick. She had watched every chat show on every station. Good times. That reminded her—she hoped she had set her Sky Plus to record her shows.

She flipped through the channels, skipping all the news stations. She didn’t need to hear anything else depressing. She settled on an Arabic-speaking soap opera. She had no idea what the people were saying but it was the only thing on that could pass as entertainment. A swarthy man was pleading with a woman. She was wiping away a tear and looking off into the distance. He was a convincing enough actor to capture remorse even through the language barrier. But weren’t all men good at pretending to feel things? It must be encoded somewhere in the Y chromosome. “Don’t believe a word he says. They are all the same,” Sarah muttered to the telly before she turned it off again, and the screen rose into the recess in the ceiling.

She picked up her glass and went to the patio doors and looked out onto the terrace. A pool on the roof—who did that? New Liam apparently. She slid open the door and sighed as the warm desert air hit her skin. It had cooled off enough to be bearable but was still warm by Scottish standards. It was a revelation to not have to wear at least a jumper in the middle of summer. She looked around. The last thing she wanted was to be caught skinny dipping in Dubai, even if it was a private pool. They were bound to have a law against that and she had used her one “get out of jail free” card on Sam. She leaned over the rail to assess the situation. The building wasn’t overlooked. Satisfied no one could see her, she stripped off her underwear and slipped into the water. It was warmer than she expected, like a lukewarm bath.

Complete bliss.

She sighed with contentment as she sank deeper into the water until it splashed high around her shoulders. Now this was the life. If she had a pool on her terrace she would never leave her house, except to get food—a girl had to eat—or better yet, she would just hire someone to bring her meals until osmosis had drawn the last molecule of water from her body, and left her a happy, though dehydrated, wee raisin.

Suddenly the water lit up, illuminated by dozens of submerged lights casting a pattern of pale golden colour on the bottom of the pool. Before she could stop herself she screamed. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

“Relax, Sarah. It’s just me,” Liam called from the door. Because he had turned on the outside lights, the shadow of the living room appeared darker, and all she could make out was the outline of his tall form.

“Geez, you scared me,” she gasped. She took large deep breaths to try to slow her heart rate.

“They say people that startle easily have a guilty conscience. What has you feeling so guilty, Ms. Campbell?” She could hear his smile in his voice.

She ignored his question. She sank even deeper into the water and hoped he could not see her clearly. “Did I wake you up? Sorry, I couldn’t find a light… And I may have broken your lamp.’’

“Honestly? That lamp was very valuable.”

“Really? I am so sorry. I will replace it.” She would have to add that to the list of bills. Her overdraft hurt again when she thought about it.

“No, not really, it came with the flat. You broke my heart—the lamp pales in comparison.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “Only one of us had a broken heart that summer and it wasn’t you. Nice try though, Liam.”

“Why do you assume you were the only one hurt?” Liam asked.

“Um…because you were the one who left. We spent the night together and the next day you left for Cambridge and never looked back. You never answered my calls or emails. You just left. Call me old-fashioned, but when a girl has sex for the first time, she hopes the guy will stick around…I don’t know…at least long enough for the sun to come up.”

Liam walked out of the shadows and stood by the edge of the pool. For the first time she could see him properly. He was still wearing the same suit he had been that afternoon. “Quit the martyr routine, Sarah. You bailed. It was you who gave up on us. We were supposed to be leaving together. It was going to be you and me but you got scared and begged off. Don’t put that on me.”

It was the same argument they had earlier; he was not going to give any ground, let alone see anything from her perspective. And as good as she was at verbal sparring, it was difficult to get the upper hand naked, especially when he was making no attempt to conceal his ogling. “Fine. I get it. I had one chance and I blew it. Is that how it works in your world? I made a bad choice, so I am dead to you. Fantastic. What a brilliant way to live your life.” She squirmed and crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

“At least you are admitting it was a bad choice.”

“No, that is not what I said.”

“That is exactly what you said. Are you going to take it back now? You are great at taking back promises. It is a shame that breaking your word is not an Olympic event—you could medal in it.”

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. This was an argument that required more clothing, and less water.

“Fine what? Fine you admit it was a shit choice?”

“Fine as in, fine I said it. But it wasn’t a bad choice as much as it was my only choice.”

Liam laughed. It was a bitter sound lacking all joy. “Are you serious? How was that your only choice? You had a place at Cambridge with the man who loved you, always loved you, but your only choice was staying in a fucking council estate to take care of a drug addict.”

“I am not having this conversation now,” she protested.

“You sure as hell are. This conversation has been a decade in the making. It is not going to bloody wait.”

“I am not going to speak to you while I am naked and you are fully dressed.”

“Fine by me,” he said as he tugged at his tie. It came loose in one fluid movement. He tossed his jacket on a wooden lounger and then reached for his belt.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“What does it look like I am doing? I am getting naked so we can finish this conversation.”

“Liam, stop it. For the love of God, just put your trousers back on.” She tried to look away but she was too intrigued by the sight of his taut torso. Even in the dim light, his muscles were defined by deep ridges. He had always been thin, but now he appeared to have no body fat remaining, just hard muscle and sinew. “I am warning you, I will not keep talking if your pants come off.”

“Well, that is great because so far all the excuses you have offered have been shite. Hopefully your listening skills fare better.” He tucked his thumb into his boxers and pulled them down just low enough for her to see the prominent V shape above his obliques.

Her face burned hot. Dear Lord, just when she thought the desert could not get any hotter. If that man was any sexier, he would need to come with a health warning.

“Fine, I will talk to you. Just leave your pants on.”

“Sarah, it is not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“That was a long time ago.” She forced herself to look him square in the eyes. She wasn’t sure she would be able to have a coherent conversation if he got any more naked. Just the memory of him was making it difficult to concentrate.

“And felt me before,” he continued.

“Again, that was a long time ago.”

“And tasted me before,” he drawled. “That one was a particular favourite.” He slipped his boxers off and dived into the pool before she had a chance to respond. He emerged seconds later, mere feet from her, wearing nothing but a cheeky smile.

Her breath caught in her throat. Smiling like that, with his hair dishevelled, he looked like her Liam. She stared at him mesmerised, transported to an earlier time, an easier time. If she could live in that moment she would. She had loved him so much, loved them so much. They were Liam and Sarah against the world. Together they had felt invincible. A sudden sadness nagged at her; it was like seeing the ghost of her long-lost love.

But it was an illusion.

No, Her Liam had been the illusion. He never was the person she made him out to be.

A tear slid down her cheek. She sank lower into the water, until her head was submerged so Liam would not see her crying. She could go years without crying and now twice in one day. She needed to get it together.