CHAPTER FOUR
Ainsley
I woke up feeling tired, and with no clear idea where I was. I had just been dreaming about lying wrapped up in my bed with Drake lying beside me, his warm arms wrapping me close...
I sighed, remembering the night before. The clock showed me it was ten A.M. I had slept a long time.
I ran a sleepy hand down my face, grateful I'd had the decency to wash the makeup off my face before I'd climbed into bed.
“At least it's a Saturday.”
I stretched and yawned and headed to the shower, trying to clear my head of my nostalgic thoughts. As the rose-scented steam from my shower-gel floated up to my nose I found my thoughts swimming in memories of Drake.
He's even more stunning than I remember, I thought with a jolt of longing. But he's so cold and distant. So...so not himself.
I toweled myself dry and pulled on jeans and a shirt. Five minutes later I was sitting in my apartment at the kitchen table, my breakfast cereal before me, my phone held to my ear. Lacey was on the other side.
“It was amazing, wasn't it?” she asked.
“It was great, Lacey,” I said. “I've never been to such a stylish party.” It was something I wouldn't forget in a long time – for many reasons.
“I know! Me neither!” Lacey enthused. “I'm so glad you came. Thanks for coming, by the way – you know it's hard for me to get out and about sometimes.”
“I know,” I said gently. “And thank you. I wouldn't have missed it. Not for anything.”
We chatted a while longer and I breathed in the sweet coffee-scented steam of my kitchen and wondered why it was that I felt so sad this morning.
“Lacey?”
“Mm?”
“You know, I wanted to ask you an um...theoretical kind of question,” I asked slowly.
“Yeah?” Lacey sounded intrigued. “Ask away.”
“Well,” I cleared my throat. “Say you'd known someone a long time ago. Say they suddenly met you again and they were, like, the polar opposite of who they'd been before. What would you do?”
“You mean,” she asked thoughtfully, “how would I feel about getting to know them again?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Exactly.”
“Well,” she paused. “I think I would be cautious about it. You are, clearly. And I'd want to research a bit. Find out how much they'd really changed.”
“Research?” I was interested.
“Yeah,” she said brightly. “Snoop about! Check their Facebook, look at their profiles online, that kind of thing. How else are you going to know if they've changed or not? Really changed.”
“Lacey!” I giggled. “You'd do that?”
“Yes,” she said with a shy giggle. “Knowledge is power, right? Get it any way you can!”
I chuckled. “You're right. I'll bear that in mind. You're gangster, you know that?”
She laughed. “I wouldn't have said it like that myself.”
“I would.”
We both laughed.
“Will you come for lunch later?” Lacey asked. “Uncle Mark sent me tons of official photos of the event and it'd be fun to look at them and chat.”
“Okay,” I said. “That sounds great.”
When we said goodbye and hung up I felt a bit better. At least I had a plan. I finished my coffee – it was cool now but it still had enough caffeine in it to do good for my head – and considered the advice.
Should I really snoop about on Drake's social accounts?
The idea was so deliciously naughty that I had to smile. Why not, though?
I finished my breakfast and searched on my phone while I did so.
“Drake...Leblanc,” I typed.
A list of different profiles came up. One was the professional one, then a LinkedIn, then some other Drake Leblanc who was a writer. I chose Facebook. Drake Leblanc – at least that Drake Leblanc, the one who interested me – didn't have a Facebook.
That's weird.
Oh, well. I shrugged. Maybe as a big-deal corporate lawyer he didn't want to have too much stuff online.
I looked at the work profile. I smiled at the handsome face.
Why do you have to be so stunning? I should hate you for walking out with no explanation. But I can't hate that face...
I took my dishes to the sink and caught sight of my reflection in the window as I put them in the sink. Despite my obvious sleepiness I had to admit that my angular, big-eyed appearance was quite pretty. I should stop hiding myself and chasing the one guy who was hellbent on ignoring me.
“Come on, Ainsley,” I said to myself. “Stop moping. The guy doesn't care about you.”
I rinsed the breakfast-dish, then set about the long-overdue task of unpacking the clean ones from the dishwasher. I was still busy when my phone made a noise.
“What's that?” I frowned. When I picked it up, my frown deepened. It was an email from an address that I didn't recognize.
“DL at Steelcore dot com. Oh...”
Drake. No. It couldn't be.
Stop being silly, Ainsley. How would he even know your email address?
I opened it. It was Drake.
Dear Ainsley, I read. I know it's been too long since I wrote to you. I wanted to say sorry. It was wrong of me to not at least tell you when I got back. Anyway. I hope you are well and all is good in your life. Best wishes Drake.
I frowned. The words all felt so vague, so non-committal. It sounded like a business mail, just with slight emotional overtones. I am a translator and words are my thing. None of those words really radiated intense feeling, at least not to me.
Sorry. Wrong of me. Best wishes.
Not exactly passionate stuff, was it? He didn't seem too interested. I sighed and then a thought occurred to me.
He wrote to me.
That meant he remembered seeing me and it made a bit of an impact on him. And he had taken the time to look me up. That wasn't trivial.
It isn't the sort of thing you'd do if you wanted to avoid someone, now is it?
I frowned. I guess I would have written the similar sort of thing if I wasn't sure about what was going on in someone's life.
He doesn't know anything about me, I reminded myself. He didn't even know whether or not I was single.
I chuckled. If I had only recently become single, he probably wasn't. He was thirty-four now, and the chances were as a stunning lawyer he was being chased around the town by many girls by now.
I probably don't have a chance with him.
I put my phone down on the table and went over to the window, thinking. Should I answer him? The thought made my throat close up with so many emotions I had to take a moment or two to pick through them all.
The main thing stopping me, I realized, wasn't nerves. It was disappointment. Disappointment in the new Drake. Would I have anything in common with this new identity? This corporate, commercial version of Drake who had sold out and joined the thing he was hellbent on fighting?
Only one way to find out.
Lacey's advice about the research came back to me. She was right – I didn't actually know for sure that he had sold out. I was very much judging this book by its cover.
I took a deep breath, sat down and answered the mail.
Hi Drake, I wrote. It was good to hear from you. And to see you.
I paused. Did that sound desperate? Maybe.
It was good to hear from you. I was surprised to find you as a corporate lawyer. I guess we have a lot to catch up about. Would be interesting to chat sometime. Best wishes, Ainsley.
I closed my eyes and hit the “send” link. Then I leaned back in my chair feeling like I'd run a marathon.
“Well, that's that,” I told myself. “Great thing about making a fool of yourself is that it doesn't kill you.”
That was the only comforting thing I could think at that point. I was sure I had made a fool of myself. Why would Drake want to hear from me?
I stood and made more coffee to relax myself. My plans for Saturday were straightforward. Clean the house. Work out. Have lunch. Finish my tax form.
I have a simple life. There isn't any room in it for the likes of Drake Leblanc.
I had just walked out of an abusive relationship. Did I really want to take up with someone who hadn't had the decency to tell me they hadn't been shot by rebels in the Congo?
“Drake Leblanc can go take a hike,” I told myself as I passed the mirror again, heading to my room to change for a jog.
I went through my morning as usual and almost succeeded in forgetting about Drake. It was only when I reached for my phone and handbag, heading out to lunch at Lacey's apartment, that I remembered. I checked my mails.
There were five new e-mails. The top one was from Drake Leblanc.
Breathe, I told myself. I suddenly felt like the air had turned to treacle and trying to draw breath into my lungs was really hard. I breathed, poised my finger over the mail, and clicked it.
Hi Ainsley. Thanks for getting in touch. We do have a lot of catching-up to do. How about lunch tomorrow? Drake.
I stopped breathing. I almost dropped my phone, then put it down slowly on the table.
Drake Leblanc had written back. He was asking me out to lunch?
I shook my head with sheer surprise. It didn't even seem possible.
My heart was racing as I headed down the stairs. Think, Ainsley.
Should I answer immediately? I checked the time on the mail. I didn't want to look over-eager. He'd left me without word for eight years, after all. He could hang on for a few hours at least.
I was seething with nerves by the time I finally reached my car. I was in two minds as to whether to leave him waiting or to answer at once.
I took a deep breath and answered.
Hi, Drake. Lunch tomorrow sounds good. Maybe at the new place on Flagler St? Green Table. See you then.
I put my things on the passenger seat and steamed off to Lacey's. About ten minutes later, my phone made a noise. I tried to ignore it.
Probably just something from the bank. Or some advertising or something. Nothing important.
Nothing from Drake.
I held my breath and my curiosity until I got to a stoplight. Then I had to check.
Hi Ainsley, the message said simply. Great. See you there at one P.M. Drake.
I was still staring when someone honked behind me and I noticed, finally, that the light had changed. With an embarrassed wave out the window, I sped off.
My heart was soaring and my hands were clammy with excitement as I gripped the steering-wheel.
I was going to see Drake tomorrow and talk to him for real. For the first time in eight years.