Dirty Bad Wrong(84)
“No... yes...” I said. “I don’t know.”
She smiled a smile so tender it took my breath. “It’s not enough, James. I need someone who’ll put themselves on the line for me, like I put myself on the line for you. I want someone who can love me, who can be with me for who I am. I never wanted that before, but I do now. If I’m here with you I’ll never find that person, there will only ever be you.”
“And what if I am that person?” I breathed. “What if I can be that man?”
“But you can’t, you said it yourself. Your life is too compartmentalised, too rigid. There’s no place for chaos, James. There’s no place for me. I’ve got to go, Frank’s waiting.”
I fisted my hands in my hair. Palpitations ratting through my chest. I was sweaty, hot, exposed, thoroughly out of my comfort zone and hating every second of it. People were gathering at the sidelines, keeping a nosey eye on our exchange. I found I no longer gave a shit about any of it, about my stupid job, or this stupid place, or Salmons, or stupid fucking Trevor White. I no longer cared what any of them thought of me, because none of them mattered.
Only one.
Lydia mattered.
I pulled her towards me, and she wheezed at the contact. “Let me go, James,” she breathed. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
“I can be that man,” I said. “Let me be that man.”
Her lip trembled, eyes welling up again. “Don’t,” she said. “Please, James, don’t break me like this.”
“I’m not breaking you,” I whispered. “I’m breaking me.” I searched her eyes with mine, begging for absolution. “Do you love me, Lydia?”
The tears I craved spilled freely from her. “More than you could know,” she said. “More than I could’ve known.”
“Then be with me, Cat, please, I can be that man.”
“Stop it,” she hissed. “Please, I can’t take it!”
“I mean it,” I said. “I want to be that man. I am that man.”
“And you’ll stand at my side in front of the whole world, will you? Declaring it to everyone who’ll listen?”
I wrung my hands together, knuckles white, trying to jam my thoughts into some kind of order as she stared up at me.
“Thought not,” she said. “Goodbye, James.”
“Fucking hell, Lydia Marsh,” I seethed. “I can’t believe you’re fucking doing this to me. I’m going to slap your ass so fucking hard for this little stunt.” I yanked her elbow, pulling her into my arms as the whole of the fucking admin team looked on. For all their gasps and open mouths, not one of them looked so shocked as Lydia herself. She bit her lip, just like she always does, and this time I really did suck it into my mouth. I kissed her like my life depended on it, and after a moment’s hesitation she kissed me right back.
I broke away to find Lydia’s eyes like saucers, staring up at me as if she’d seen a ghost. Frank stood up from his chair, gawping through the window at us, and I found that I was smiling. I was smiling my fucking head off.
I paced through to the meeting room.
“Is this Lydia’s letter of resignation?” I asked, stealing the paperwork from under Frank’s nose.
“Um, yeah, James, it sure is.”
“Not anymore.” I tore the thing into tiny pieces, dumping it straight in the wastepaper basket.
On my way back to my office. I made sure my voice was loud and clear, carrying the full length of the room.
“Yes, I’m in love with Lydia Marsh, yes, it’s the real fucking deal, yes, we have a wonderful fucking sex life, thank you very much, and no, she isn’t going to Brighton. Any more questions?”
Nobody made a sound, including Frank who’d appeared in the meeting room doorway.
“Good,” I said. “Carry on.” I turned back as I reached the stairs, my eyes firmly on Lydia. “Coffee please,” I yelled. “If you’re making one. We’ve got a whole fucking week’s worth of work to catch up on, best get a move on.”
She didn’t disappoint me.
***
Chapter Eighteen
Lydia
I packed up the last of my things. They barely filled more than my original suitcase, nothing like packing light.
“I hate this,” Bex said. “I’ll miss your perky ass in the morning, Missy. So fucking much.”
“You’ll have a new perky ass to keep you amused soon, Rebecca,” I said. “When’s she arriving?”
“Next week,” she smiled. “I guess we might be the real deal too.”