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Rob was quiet on the journey back to my flat, and so was I. I stared out the windscreen as we drove through the terraced suburban streets. It was a cold, dark night tonight, cloudy and starless. Deepest winter, cheered only by the sporadic clusters of Christmas lights that edged the roofs and window-frames of the houses we sped past.
I shivered inside my thin bomber jacket.
I’d had a mirror held up to me today—repeatedly—and I hadn’t liked what I’d seen. Hadn’t liked the man I’d become.
How had my life come to this? I hadn’t used to be like this, had I?
I stared out into the night and forced myself to face an uncomfortable truth: that my job—my single-minded determination to reach the top at Quicks—had turned me into someone I didn’t like. Someone no one really seemed to like.
I pondered that idea for a while—that it was my job to blame—but the truth was, it didn’t feel honest.
I considered another, more awful truth. That it wasn’t just the job. That it was me. That the job might bring out the worst in me, but the worst was already there. That the potential to be mean and ungenerous and unpleasant was part of me, written into my DNA.
That was a much harder idea to bear, but it felt honest. It felt true.
Hell, it was true.
I leaned my head against the passenger window, sunk in misery, watching the Christmas lights flash by, and considered my future. Two years ago, near enough to the day, I’d written a five-year career plan, with promotion to partner planned for year five. I’d more than met my goals for the first twenty-four months and the next stage in my plan was a sideways move to the London office. I was going to ask for a secondment to the business unit I’d targeted as the best place to be in terms of career progression, and my objective there was to outshine the existing junior director in that unit by working harder than her and getting the team below me working harder too, doing whatever necessary to make that happen. It was eminently doable. Especially if you were prepared to sacrifice everything on the altar of your ambition, including decency and friendship and common humanity.
I thought of Rob asking for time off for Tim and my shitty reaction. I thought of the nameless security guard with his stupid, crumbling mince pies, just trying to spread a little Christmas cheer. I thought of Ben and how unhappy I’d made him those last couple of years we’d been together. And I thought of Freddy, ever-optimistic Freddy, still doggedly asking me to come out every weekend, even after all the times I’d let her down. Still determined to think the best of me, still defending me to everyone else. For now anyway.
Where was I going to end up if I kept walking down the same path?
I remembered Marley’s haunted expression as she spoke of her regrets.
That’s all we have to give each other. Our time, here on earth. And now that I’m looking back, over the last twenty-five years, I realise how much of it I’ve wasted.
Another absurdly obvious truth hit me then.
I had a choice.
For some reason, the universe had decided to tell me something today. Or maybe it was just that I had woken up, and was finally seeing what was obvious to everyone else. Whichever it was, I had a choice. I could listen to what I was being told and try to change the direction of my life, or I could ignore it and keep going with that five-year plan.
I thought about how it would feel to sit in the front of the board for a partner interview, how it would feel to get the call from one of them to be told I’d been successful. I thought of the years of even harder work that would follow my promotion as I sought to entrench my position as a junior partner on the up-and-up. There would be pressure to bring in work, make fees, schmooze new clients, and it would endless. It would leave no room for friendships or family. It would leave no room for a romantic relationship, not with someone who actually wanted to spend time with me, anyway.
I glanced at Rob.
He’d been planning to ask me out. He’d liked me. It seemed unbelievable, even now after I’d had a bit of time to get used to the idea. I was okay looking, but he really was stupidly handsome. He was a catch; anyone would say so, and in a quite different league from me, even if he couldn’t see it for himself.
As though he sensed my gaze on him, he flicked me a quick look.
“You’re being very quiet,” he observed before glancing back at the road.
“So are you.”
He made an amused noise of agreement. “I’m still mortified,” he admitted. “About what Tim said back at the house.”
“Well, you don’t need to panic,” I reassured him. I sighed. “I’m not sitting here thinking you’re interested in me.”
Another quick glance, but this time he was frowning. “What do you mean by that?”
I averted my own gaze out the window. I could force the words out but I couldn’t look at him while I did it. “I’m flattered that you were interested in me when we first met,” I began. “I mean—look at you.” I waved my hand in his direction. “But now you know what I’m like and...”
“And?” Rob prompted.
I sighed. “And you think I’m a dick. And you’re right, okay? I get it.” I stared miserably out into the blackness. “I get it now.”
For several long moments there was a tense silence, then I heard the clicking of the indicator. The car slowed, swooping into a parking space at the side of the road, and stopped. The engine cut off.
“Quin.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Rob. I needed the cold hard glass of the passenger window against my temple, grounding me.
I wasn’t planning on saying anything more, so it was as much of a surprise to me as to Rob when I blurted, “I can’t expect anyone else to like me when I don’t even like myself, can I?”
“Oh, Quin,” Rob said, and this time he sounded sad. I felt the sudden warmth of his hand stroking my shoulder, just a brief touch before he withdrew, but comforting for all that.
And right then, in that moment—I decided.
“I’m going to leave,” I said. I blinked. My own words had surprised me, even though it was where my thoughts had been leading just before Rob stopped the car.
“Leave where?” Rob asked. He sounded—careful. “Manchester?”
I shook my head. “Quicks,” I clarified. Then, after a brief, terrifying pause, “Probably the whole consulting game. I’m not sure it’s good for me.”
“In what way?”
I admitted the truth, though I could only manage to do so in a whisper. “I think it brings out the worst in me.”
I risked a look at him then. He was watching me, his expression calm, with just a touch of concern.
“It’s not as if my dream in life was to be a management consultant,” I said.
He smiled at that. “What was your dream?”
I gave a short laugh. “You won’t believe me when I tell you.”
His smile deepened. “Try me.”
“A maths teacher,” I admitted. “Can you imagine it? Me, working with teenagers?”
He canted his head to the side and considered me. “I can, actually. You’re very good at breaking complex things down, explaining them simply. I think you’d be a good teacher.”
The simple niceness of that made me sort of crumple up inside, gratitude mingling with embarrassment and maybe a touch of incredulity. I wanted to believe him but somehow I couldn’t be sure he was being sincere.
Why was hope so painful? “The kids would probably hate me,” I said huskily.
“Sarky bastard like you?” he replied, mouth quirking up to one side. “Nah, they’d love you.” He paused then asked, “Is that what you did your degree in? Mathematics?”
I turned to him fully, shifting in my seat so that my body faced him. “Yeah. I was all set to start teacher training after graduation but one of my friends dragged me along to a recruitment fair and persuaded me to apply for a consulting job—I wasn’t seriously expecting an offer, but when I got one, I decided to take it. I had a lot of student loans by then so the thought of earning rather than racking up even more debt was too tempting to pass by.” I shrugged. “I’d only planned to do it for a couple of years, but I guess I got used to the job. And the money, of course.”
“Could you give the money up now?” Rob asked. “If you decide to move to teaching, you’ll be facing a massive salary drop.”
I thought about that. About the disposable income accruing in my account month on month because I had no time to spend it. “Yeah, I could give it up,” I said, the cogs in my brain beginning to turn as I examined the idea. “My mortgage is modest and my flatmate gives me rent. And it’s not as if I have a husband or kids who depend on me. I’m pretty sure I could afford to do the year’s training without needing to take out any debt.”
A tiny thread of excitement came to life inside me and I had to bite my lip against a sudden smile, not wanting to betray how much this new idea suddenly meant to me. “I could do it.”
“You could,” Rob agreed softly, his gaze on me. He’d parked outside one of the more heavily decorated houses we’d seen. A life-size reindeer made of thousands of lights stood sentinel in the front garden, glowing first red then gold then green, then cycling back to red. The changing colours glowed inside the car, illuminating Rob’s face—mine too, presumably—like traffic lights.
Stop, wait, go.
“Quin.” This time Rob didn’t so much say it, as breathe it, and I watched, mesmerised as he lifted his hand and touched my face, fingertips just grazing my skin. Our eyes met as the pad of his thumb swept across my cheekbone. Such a simple, tender gesture. I didn’t know what to do or say. All I could do was stare at him and wait for what came next.
“I like you,” he said finally. “I’ve always liked you. Even when you were being a dick.”
“Yeah?” My voice sounded as shaky as I felt.
“Yeah,” he confirmed with a half-smile. “Not that you ever noticed me.”
“Are you kidding?” My laugh was astonished. “I noticed you. I just never imagined you’d be interested in me.”
“Why not?”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
That lip-quirking smile kicked up again. Fuck, it was charming. I wanted to kiss the corner of that smile.
“You think I look good?” he asked, eyeing me, his voice lower, deeper.
I raised a brow. “You do not need me to tell you the answer to that question.”
“Actually,” he said seriously, his smile fading a little. “I think I do.”
My mouth was dry, my heart thumping a rapid tattoo. “Okay,” I began shakily, somehow managing to hold his gaze. “I think you look really—really good.”
He leaned closer, so close I could feel his breath against my face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I breathed back, my eyes on his.
“Good enough to kiss?”
By way of answer, I slid my hand behind his neck and pulled him to me.
I got my wish about kissing that smile. As soon as our lips touched, his quirked up, just for a moment, curving beneath my lips. And then his hand was sliding into my hair, cupping the back of my neck, and he was deepening the kiss, lips parting, tongue delicately touching my own, startling a gasp out of me.
That quick, my cock was hard, stiffening almost painfully in my jeans, making me shift in my seat in an attempt to ease the pressure. Rob muscled closer, fiddling with the zip of my bomber jacket, parting the sides to slide his big hands inside and up over my ribs, kissing me all the while. His touch was firm and possessive and the growl he gave as I plastered myself against him made me shiver.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard and Rob’s eyes were glittering.
“So,” I said slowly. “Do you fancy coming back to mine?”
Rob smiled again.