Chapter Four
Tabitha knew when she woke on Sunday morning, it was verging ever closer to being Sunday afternoon. Eyes closed tight, she mentally did an assessment of her body. Her legs ached from dancing. Her head was pounding with a hangover and her tongue felt thick and furry.
“I cannot feel like this for work tomorrow,” she thought.
Slowly opening her eyelids, hoping the light wouldn’t blind her, she had the strangest sensation that she wasn’t alone. The feeling made her movements slow and silent. Rotating her neck she saw an additional body in her bed. The head on the pillow had golden hair. She knew exactly who was sharing the bed. She shut her eyes quickly, sending out a silent prayer for recollection of how the previous night concluded.
“I know you’re awake,” announced Freddie casually.
Tabitha’s mind raced to analyze his tone of voice.
“The underlying sentiment of that statement is definitely casual,” Tabitha silently determined. “Is that because he’s had his wicked way with me and no longer cares for my feelings? Perhaps he literally just crashed here for the night and there’s nothing to worry about because nothing happened?” she contemplated.
Freddie didn’t need to read her mind to guess what she was thinking.
“It’s okay, we didn’t sleep together,” enlightened Freddie. “Actually to be concise we only slept together; we didn’t have sex.”
Tabitha felt herself smiling. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Mind you, if she had slept with him and couldn’t remember it would’ve been a glaringly obvious sign that they weren’t sexually compatible. That they were comfortable enough to pass out on the same mattress was a positive step in respect of something serious developing between her and the handsome Brit.
“I suspect it’s going to sound really bad on my part if I ask how we ended up in this predicament.”
“It’s not an unexpected question at all,” said Freddie, rolling over to face Tabitha.
His stormy blue eyes were so deep she felt if she gazed into them too long she might lose herself forever.
“Your efforts at partying last night were positively heroic. As I recall you were somewhat disappointed that the club closed at 2 am.”
“Oh, my. We did go on clubbing afterward, didn’t we?”
Freddie nodded.
“It was heaven, wasn’t it? You got us a booth. It was quite swanky. There was a lighting display and a Brazilian music vibe going on.”
“You remember. You can’t have been as drunk as I thought,” chuckled Freddie.
“Was it nearby?”
“Not too far. The Notting Hill Arts Club. They do chill out sessions this evening if you fancy it.”
Tabitha couldn’t tell if Freddie was being serious or not.
“I better not. Tomorrow’s my first day solo as Marketing Director. The last thing I want is to be nursing a hangover and battling sleep deprivation when I’m trying to win over the old fogeys.”
Freddie rolled onto his back and placed his hands under his head to gaze at the ceiling with a bemused smiled on his face. It was only then that Tabitha noticed he was without a shirt. They may not have had sex, but how was it that this hunk was semi naked? She didn’t dare look under the covers to see what was (or wasn’t) underneath it. Had there been some kind of affectionate fumbling taking place before they slept?
“If I can’t lure you back to the Arts, what’s your view on taking in a bit of fresh air and lining your stomach with stodgy food to aid your recovery,” suggested Freddie.
Lifting the sheet slightly, Tabitha saw she was wearing an oversized Brooklyn Nets basketball vest and baggy track pants. She’d yet to recall the actual circumstances surrounding her changing into her pajamas, but felt confident enough body-wise to get up.
Sluggishly dragging herself from bed, she raised the blind of the window and twisted her head at an obscure angle in an attempt to see what the weather was like.
“It actually looks quite sunny out,” she stated; hoping Freddie would take her observation as an acceptance of his offer for lunch and a walk.
“I suppose I should get dressed, then,” said Freddie.
“How is it that you came to be in a state of undress?” asked Tabitha innocently.
“Sadly, none of your night dresses fitted me. I didn’t think going commando would be appropriate.”
As Freddie threw back the covers, Tabitha was given the full view of him in his tight legged black Emporio Armani boxers. His physique resembled that of a Greek Adonis. There wasn’t an ounce of body fat on him. Though slim, he was all muscle.
“Can I grab a shower?”
Tabitha swallowed hard. With a concentrated effort she was able to divert her eyes from Freddie’s fine form.
“Sure. There are fresh towels in the linen cupboard in the bathroom,” she squeaked.
As soon as she heard the shower running, she was able to sit on the bed and catch her breath. She was having difficulty defining why she was attracted to Freddie. If it was purely physical then it wouldn’t be wise to become involved with him, given the conflict of interest with work. If it was something more – a meeting of minds or an emotional connection – then she’d have to tread very carefully in how the relationship developed.
Seeing Freddie fully dressed in the same clothes from last night when he appeared from the bathroom slowed Tabitha’s heartbeat. Taking a quick shower too, Tabitha felt a little clearer headed. She jumped into a clean pair of black jeans with a freshly pressed white men’s dress shirt combined with black boots.
Locking the flat, and walking toward Bayswater Road, Freddie mindlessly laced his fingers through Tabitha’s. The gesture felt natural to him and he thought nothing more of it. Walking down Bayswater Road in the sunshine to see a plethora of artists displaying their paintings, pictures and prints seemed the perfect way to spend a Sunday.
Tabitha was at ease with Freddie as they admired and privately joked about the various pieces of art being canvassed on the street.
“Fancy stopping at The Swan for lunch?” asked Freddie after a time.
Tabitha looked at the historical coach inn which now served as a pub. The beer garden at the front was full.
“Will we get a seat?”
“Not outside, but that mightn’t be the worst thing,” stated Freddie, waving toward a sky that was threatening to become overcast within the hour. “I can promise you a cracking Sunday roast inside.”
“Let’s do this.”
Adept as ever, Freddie had them both seated and served in a reasonable period of time. The roast was perfect and the pint of beer Freddie suggested as, hair of the dog, did appease Tabitha’s hangover.
“How’d you end up working for Hastings-Bass?” asked Tabitha, eager to use the time to learn more about Freddie as opposed to continuing to reveal her entire life story.
“Not dissimilar to your tale, but with less of a struggle. While my parents separated when I was young, university was always in the cards for me – there was never a question that the funding would be available. I did multiple summer internships at Hastings-Bass in London. As soon as I finished I was recruited in accounts and worked my way up the ladder to my current position of Financial Director.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“It wasn’t a bad thing, but I feel bad when I realize how easy I had it compared to you. You fought tooth and nail to get where you are. I sort of had it handed to me on a platter.”
Tabitha assessed Freddie. He wasn’t apologetic or lacking in self-esteem, but she felt his matter-of-fact description was self-deprecating.
“You do yourself a disservice, Freddie. Okay, maybe you were fortunate to have a financially secure family to put you through college, but you still had to study and sit for the exams to graduate. Perhaps you had contacts that made obtaining your internships convenient, but you were still required to attend them and work there. It’s not like you walked into straight Hastings-Bass as Financial Director. By your own admission, you started on the lowest rung and worked your way up. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed. It is what it is, but I’d be arrogant and foolish if I thought my experience was a hardship. It wasn’t. I am good at what I do and I like my job, but let’s not pretend I had a struggle comparable with yours.”
“We aren’t in competition,” said Tabitha, gently.
“No, we’re not.”
Freddie reached across the table and placed his hand on Tabitha’s.
“How’d your sister Isabella come into fashion? It’s unusual that you both work in the same industry, but in such different jobs.”
Freddie flinched and swiftly took his hand off Tabitha’s.
“I suppose you could say we had a shared interest in fashion. Izzy’s was broader than mine and journalism allows her the freedom to cover the entire industry, whereas my interests are vested in Hastings-Bass.”
“It’s nice that you two are close. You don’t always see that in siblings.”
“My parents’ divorce was ugly. Izzy’s two years younger than me. It transpired during that turbulent period where mother and father were organizing the division of assets that I became the stable male figure in her life.”
“Why is it when I talk to you I get the feeling you’re dodging around a huge issue?”
“Probably because I am,” answered Freddie bluntly.
He respected Tabitha’s openness and boldness. That she was airing her observations of his behavior rather than probing him for the big reveal, showed sensitivity and honesty on her part.
“I’m British. Talking publicly of personal matters isn’t particularly easy for me. Not with our culture.”
“The great British Reserve,” laughed Tabitha. “I suppose it’s even more incomprehensible when it’s a complete stranger delving into your private life.”
Freddie caught her dark brown eyes; alongside intelligence and compassion, they radiated loyalty.
“Only you aren’t a complete stranger, Tabitha.”
The one simple sentence pushed into momentum the direction the twosome were going to take. After finishing lunch and roaming to the end of Bayswater Road, Freddie and Tabitha ambled back to her flat.
“I suppose I should go. Let you relax and catch up on sleep to make the right impression at work tomorrow,” muttered Freddie.
“I suppose you should,” agreed Tabitha.