Chapter 6

"...so I'm not really looking to get into a 'Relationship' right now, you know? Life's too short to get tied down to just one person." My date shrugged, swirling the whisky in his glass. "You know?"

"Sure, I suppose..." Points for honesty, I guess, but a massive negative for attitude. Not to mention bullshit. "So this date is... just a formality?"

"Oh, no, not at all," came the reply, accompanied by a smooth smile that suddenly made my very handsome and increasingly annoying companion that much more slappable. "I think you're a very engaging and attractive woman, and I'd very much like to know you better."

"Without any commitment or strings."

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that..."

"More like fuck buddies," I snorted. "Seriously, how often does this work? Quite a bit, I'd imagine, given you seem to pitch yourself towards desperate divorcées who are probably flattered when you use that line on them."

His too-smooth brow furrowed a little now, "Now, wait a minute," he spluttered, shifting in his seat. "I wasn't implying that-"

"You were just in it for the sex? No, I'm sure you do want the whole package - scintillating dinner conversation, passionate lovemaking and a woman who has absolutely no designs on you or your precious time."

Needless to say, things degenerated a bit from there - there was more equivocation and denial, my patience ran out entirely, and I threw down some cash and left, furious with myself for even being taken in enough to give the guy a chance - particularly so because he really was quite handsome, and had been very charming over the phone, and I hated that I'd let myself be swayed by that when half an hour in his presence had been enough to lay completely bare how vapid and obnoxious he was.

The most annoying part was that I myself wasn't even looking for a 'Relationship', necessarily - I wasn't out there cruising for random sex, but nor was I trying to settle down with the first suitable guy I met. But I just hated the way that these men - this guy hadn't been the first - just assumed that because of my age or my relationship status or what-have-you that I was either in it to remarry as soon as possible or to get some small physical comfort to fill the aching, empty void left by the absence of a husband. Please.

It was times like this that my anger at Keith flared up. He hadn't been the love of my life, but we had been good together - settled, compatible, comfortable. We had gone to all the same conferences together, agreed on how to raise Jonas to give him the best possible opportunities in life, and we had both understood that after twenty years of marriage you couldn't expect the same level of passion that a new relationship might have. At least, I thought we had both accepted that.

As it turns out, of course, some part of Keith had never stopped looking. My friends had all maintained that this was his 'mid-life crisis' - his younger woman affair to make him feel virile and alive, like buying a new car or getting an ear pierced or joining a gym or whatever one does now. Living with him, though, watching what Keira had done to him (even before I knew what or who was doing it), I knew different. She hadn't just made him feel alive. She'd brought him back to life. Not that it excused what they did or how they did it, but I had at least acknowledged by now that it wasn't 'just' an affair - he'd actually fallen in love.

Right now, I wasn't sure whether that made me less or more angry.

In any case, it was clear that tonight's date wasn't going to do anything to revive my love life. I had had a few drinks, but instead of finding my way to another bar or back to my flat I instead hopped in a taxi back to the uni. I was getting dangerously close to workaholic mode but I needed to burn off my frustration somehow and the gym wasn't far from my office. I tended to keep some 'workout' clothes and a washkit at the office for times such as these, so I dropped by en route to pick it up. Expecting the place to be empty I was a little surprised to see a light on in one of the office windows as I approached the building.

I climbed the stairs in my heels, half-hoping I wouldn't run into anybody I knew so I wouldn't have to explain my aborted evening, and half-hoping there would be someone I could groan to about it. I wasn't particularly close to most people in the office, but Sarah and a few of the others were at least on friendly enough terms (and knew of my history with Keith) that they'd provide a sympathetic ear for a few minutes.

What I hadn't expected to find on reaching the office was that the light that I'd seen was actually the window of Dr Webb's room, her door ajar, with my new assistant working diligently away at her computer inside. I suppose I should have been impressed by her dedication - and I was, really, but I did find that I was steeling myself for yet another mildly uncomfortable encounter as I rapped at her door and stuck my head round with a cheery smile.

 

[ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 ]