Roxie

“Tell me about your family,” I ask Caleb.

We’re finally in bed. It’s around midnight, I think, although I haven’t checked my phone for a while. It’s been possibly the best evening I’ve ever had in my whole life. We’ve made love, played the guitar, raided the fridge, drunk whiskey, and made love again. What more could a girl want?

Right now, we’re relaxed and sated. After Caleb’s declaration, I can see how it might be possible to love a woman like you, we kept the conversation light, and I don’t particularly want to start anything deep and meaningful, but I am interested in his family, and in particular his father.

I wait for him to scowl and tell me to mind my own business, but he must be feeling talkative, because he trails his fingers down my back and says, “What do you want to know?”

“Siblings?”

“A sister and a brother, both older than me.”

“What do they do?”

“Cath is a doctor. Ben is a lawyer. Like his dad.” His voice is wry.

“Did he pressure them to train in those careers?”

“Oh, definitely. Only the best is good enough for Emmett Chase and his children. Anything less and he wouldn’t be able to boast about his parental prowess at his club.”

“Ouch.” The vitriol in his voice makes me wince.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look it.

“So, I’m guessing he didn’t approve of your choice of occupation?”

“You could say that. When I was young, all I wanted to do was work on my computer. He hated it—he said I was a nerd and that I should be out on my bike and playing football like a normal boy. He thought working with technology was a job for people who weren’t bright enough to take a traditional degree—he didn’t see it as a proper profession.”

His gaze is fixed far off the distance, his face stony as he remembers. “When I told him that I wanted to study it at university, we had a blazing row. My sister and my mother were in tears. My brother thought I was mad to provoke our father.”

“Did he hit you?”

“No, never. But I was afraid of him, until I got to the age where I realized he no longer had control over me.”

“What happened?”

“I left home. He refused to pay anything toward the course, so I ran up a lot of debt, as you’d expect. I lived with Seb and Harry, and three of us survived on bread and noodles for four years. We all worked in the evenings, sometimes in bars or as waiters, sometimes in late-night office jobs, if we could find them, and I was proud of myself for managing to make it to graduation without having to call my parents for money. We set up Hearktech, and eventually our first tablet took off, and the rest is history. We paid off all our loans and things have just gotten better over the years.”

That’s not the whole story, though. “And your father—do you talk to him?”

“At first, I went home from time to time to see my mother. Inevitably, when we were sitting around the dinner table, he would say something scathing, and that would put my back up, and I ended up walking out most times. Once, he told me ‘you’re the worst son a man could ever have.’ That stung.”

“Jesus.”

He shrugs. “I feel sorry for Mum—it’s not her fault. She’s never stood up to him, and I can see why. But I haven’t been home for over a year now. It just brings me down, and I don’t need that.”

He rolls onto his side. “I have more entertaining things here in the city. Like this, for example.” He slides his hand over my body and down between my legs. “Mmm, you’re so soft,” he murmurs, stroking through my folds, which are still wet and swollen from my previous orgasms judging by the easy way his fingers are slipping through them.

I pretend he’s distracted me, and let him make love to me again. He seems happy, and I think that this is all most men want—food, sex, music, and someone who makes them feel good without making demands on them. It makes me sad, though, what his father has put him through. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have great parents. What do they say—you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family? That’s so true. Just being related by blood doesn’t mean you’re going to be a great mother or father.

I drift away into the dream world I go to while Caleb’s making love to me—a world that should be filled with colored disco lights in a dark room, and chocolate and whiskey, and Barry White playing in the background.

Caleb is right—it’s far too soon for us to love each other. But there’s no doubt there’s something between us I haven’t felt before. I’ve desired men in the past, but I haven’t felt… I’m not sure what I’m feeling.

Ultimately, though, it’s all irrelevant. This relationship doesn’t have any future. I’m not stupid enough to believe that there’s a fairytale ending out there for me. Maybe one day there might be a man who’ll stick around, but he’s not going to be a university graduate with his own business who could have any classy, beautiful woman he lays eyes on. The sort of guy I’m meant for will be in another band, with tattoos and a bad attitude toward women, and we’ll probably be on-again, off-again until I’m old and gray, and I’ll always be thinking about the guy in the suit I could have had, if things had been different.

I still think I’m a novelty for Caleb. He finds me exciting, because his friends will disapprove of me deep down, and I’m sure his family would supernova if they were to find out about us. That appeals to him, but it wouldn’t be long before that would wear off and he’d get irritated by the fact that I don’t know which fork to use at dinner, I swear all the time, I don’t own a pearl necklace or a twinset, and I have no aspirations to bake cakes for the school fair. We’re incompatible. I just hope I can escape before he realizes that.

*

I lift up and check my phone. It’s nearly two a.m. We finally made it to his bed, and after a super-long lovemaking session that left us both sated and exhausted, Caleb has fallen asleep.

I sit up and look at him. He frowns a lot when he’s awake—I only realize that now, when he’s sleeping. He’s quite a serious guy. I know he works very hard. Colette has commented on how focused the guys all are, and how the women who snag them have to realize how important Hearktech is to all of them.

I hope he finds a Felicity who understand that. He deserves it.

I roll to the edge of the bed, rise, and creep out into the living room. I dress quickly, and gather my jacket and purse.

I allow myself one final look at Caleb in bed, sprawled out across the covers, his face serene in sleep.

Then, as quietly as I can, I let myself out.