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“I’M AFRAID I’M WITH Tom on this one,” Sarah slurred over her third glass of Southern Comfort and lemonade. “Your head really is up your ash.” She giggled and slurped down half her drink in one go.
“Oh, be quiet,” I slurred back. At this point I had no recollection of how much I’d drunk, but it clearly wasn’t enough to drown my sorrows. Not yet.
“No, sheriously.” Sarah leaned into my space until her nose was about two inches from mine. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. “I don’t get wha’s wrong here. He’s hot. He’s single. He’s gainly...gayfully...he’s employed. What more do you want?”
“He’s too young.”
“Or you’re too old.” She giggled.
“Hey.” I frowned at her. Both of her. I grabbed for my glass and nearly knocked it over. I guessed I was super drunk after all.
“Sheriously. This is silly. So, so, so...what was I saying?”
“Silly.”
“Right. Silly. So, he’s what? A couple years younger than you.”
“Ten.”
“What?” She squinted at me.
“He’s ten years younger. That makes me a cougar.”
She snorted. “Who said that?”
“Owen.”
“Owen is a prat. Listen, if that old lady up in Dorchester can marry a man young enough to be her grandson, I think you can manage a guy who’s only ten years younger. Please. You, lady, are being ridiculous.” She tossed back the last of her drink and stood up. “And if you can’t see that, I wash my hands of you.” It would have been much more dramatic if she hadn’t tripped and nearly fallen over backward.
“I just don’t see how it could ever work.”
“Because you, my dear, love to look for obstacles instead of possibilities. Now let’s get you home.” She practically dragged me off my stool and through the crowded pub.
That wasn’t right, was it? I didn’t look for obstacles, did I?
But I had a sinking feeling she was right. I’d stayed in a crap job far longer than I should have because I was afraid I’d never succeed at what I really wanted to do. I’d stayed in that rambling old house in Guildford because I was afraid of giving up the security of what I knew. And I was ignoring one of the best possibilities I’d ever met because I was afraid he’d one day think I wasn’t good enough.
Once situated in the cab, I gave the driver my address and sat back with my eyes closed, considering the serious business of Thomas Rutledge. What on earth was I going to do about him?
Thing was, I could walk away now. I’d get over him. Probably. He would surely get over me. And every once in a while, if I felt the pang of missed opportunity, well, that was just part of life. I could manage.
But did I want to? Did I really want those regrets waking me up at 3:00 a.m., chewing a hole in my brain? Did I really want a life with no Tom in it? No possibility of Tom?
The answer was a big, fat, resounding “no.” I wanted him in my life. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but I wanted to give it a shot, dammit. I wanted to know for myself that if it didn’t work, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.
“Driver?” I said, leaning forward until I smacked my head against the Plexiglas window separating us. He slid the window open.
“Yes, ma’am?”
I scowled at him. I was not a ma’am. Then I sighed. “Listen, I want to go somewhere else.” I gave him Tom’s address.
“Sure thing.” He slid the window closed, and I sat back. Maybe I was making a huge mistake. That was definitely a risk, but I had to try.
The cab pulled up in front of Tom’s building, and I tossed random bills at the driver before staggering out onto the sidewalk. Smoothing my dress I marched toward the door like I was marching to the guillotine. I could do this. I could.
I squinted at the buttons listing the names of everyone in the building. There were six flats, but the names kept swimming in front of my eyes. Yeah, I’d definitely had one drink too many. I started punching numbers.
A voice snarled over the intercom, but I ignored it, waiting instead for the telltale buzz of the door unlatching. Sure enough it came, and I yanked open the heavy door and staggered inside. There was no lift, so I wobbled up the stairs, using the bannister to pull myself along. I finally reached Tom’s door and gave it a good hard bang.
There was no answer, so I banged it again. And again. Dammit. He was either ignoring me, or he wasn’t home. I tried to think of what to do next. Wait. I would wait.
I slid to the floor, leaning my back against the door. Yes. Waiting was an excellent idea.