Chapter Thirty Seven

Aaron had intended to spend most of the weekend at Long Beach, but his absence at work had left a gaping void that no one could fill. But him. Apparently. He had to fly to Boston early Saturday morning, and wasn't back Sunday evening. He had called and sent dozens of text messages to Julia, all were replied jovially, but it didn't stop him feeling guilty. He'd abandoned her when she was at her weakest. He knew that she had to do things herself, but on the flip side, he'd hoped to be her distraction, her oasis in the storm she was negotiating. Instead he was downgraded to sending the odd witty text.

Shaking his head, he reached for his phone. It was just after ten on a Sunday, he had no idea if she'd be awake.

Think Boston is the loneliest place when you're in some shitty hotel room.

It was rather self-deprecating, there was no wit, but he felt raw, exposed. He felt useless and that wasn't something he was used to. Within a few seconds his phone pinged. Before opening the reply, he poured two fingers of the good quality whisky that the concierge had sent up at his request an hour ago.

He took a long slug before he opened the message. A photo, two tanned legs, stretched out on a lounger, Cliffy and Coco stretched out on her thighs, fast asleep, the moonlight hitting the sea in the distance. It was perfect, Julia, the dogs, and the eternal infinity of the sea ahead.

With a sigh, he typed a quick reply.

Thanks, feeling shit and you just punctuated it!

To add proof, he snapped a pic, his sock covered feet, up on the coffee table, the lights of Boston through the window in front of him. Sad, lonely. But before he over processed that, he pressed send.

Immediately a row of smiley emojis came back to him.

Aaron Harding is wearing odd socks? This is obviously more of a crisis than I ever imagined. But the 'whisky for one' is a bit sad I'm afraid.

He glanced at his feet, they weren't odd socks, but the toes were dark grey, the rest of the sock black. On his right foot the sock wasn't straight, so the grey tip wasn't visible. Adjusting them he snapped again, then resent it.

Dishevelled but not a fashion disaster, and the W-4-1 is a great malt. Nectar for my stressed life.

He sent that, and grimaced, he sounded SO needy. But he was despondent. Maybe a trip to the gym would help. He was deciding on that when the phone rang, Julia's name flashing on the screen.

"You're never a fashion disaster, but usually you are maybe a little too groomed..."

He laughed out loud, "too groomed? Hit a man when he's down, why don't you?"

She chuckled back at him, "you own more suits than Abi has shoes...that is making a statement, Mr Harding!"

It was his turn to laugh, "in that case, if that's the criteria, I'm guilty as charged."

Julia sighed, "I know you feel bad, that you think you've abandoned me, but honestly, I'm good."

He didn't reply, he couldn't. She was being honest, open...Julia who'd hidden behind so much. It was a start and he had to appreciate that.

"You've given me a haven, you've done nothing but help me. I'm staying at a beach front apartment, with nothing more to worry about other than feeding two of the laziest dogs in the world. They wouldn't go out today, Aaron. Got to the patch of grass outside the front door, they each had a pee, then dragged me back inside. Lucky I'm not agoraphobic or something, cos then I'd really be struggling." She laughed at herself then added, "and before you ask, I'm eating. Lots. So there."

"None of this stops me worrying about you."

She laughed, "with the sad odd sock photo, it's me worrying about you."

Laughing out loud, he shook his head, "it's a pair of socks!" He calmed a little, then asked more quietly, "so you've got a meeting tomorrow?"

"Two hours. Everyday this week. It's going to bankrupt me, but you're right, I need to sort this out. I want to be normal."

It was a sad confession and he couldn't help but make light of it, "no amount of money will make you normal, that's part of your charm."

She giggled, "are you saying I'm charming?"

"Not sure that everyone would agree with me, but you do have a certain je ne sais pas pour quoi."

"I KNOW French, don't think you can get out of this, I'm going to tell EVERYONE that you think I'm charming."

He rolled his eyes, even though she couldn't see that, "Come on, it's a Kylie Minogue thing. I just said you had a certain charm. That is a huge difference."

"Pah. I won't forget it, you can back pedal as much as you like."

That was part of what he liked about Julia, the banter, the way she pushed him, it was all invigorating.

"I'll be thinking of you tomorrow, I hope it all works out for you."

Suddenly it was all serious, and she sighed into the phone, "me too."

"I'll come..."

"Don't." She cut him off. "I know you want to be here, but you have a life to live, and I think that part of this whole process is me dealing with things. Getting over all this."

She was right, he knew it, but his control freak nature was at loggerheads with her desires. "How about if I send Carrie over, she can take you shopping..." He heard her take a breath in, ready to protest, so he quickly added, "let me do this. I have to. She can just help you stock the fridge..."

"OK, Dictator-Sir. Whatever you say."

He sighed, "I just need to help."

"What the hell did you do before this basket case arrived on your doorstep?"

As they ended the call, he pondered that a question long into the night.

Carrie was great fun, and a complete contrast to the stress of the counselling sessions Julia was living through. Doctor Vasquez was a great choice, young funny but ultimately approachable. Julia knew that her problems centred around sex, that was a given, but within the first few sessions, she had to accept the fact that her family, her betrayal, her inability to love or accept love was just as big an issue.

Anna, as she insisted Julia called her, helped her realise that sex was the easy part, physically allowing someone to touch you to touch them...that wasn't anywhere near as terrifying as trusting someone, letting them inside and becoming part of a relationship.

They had discussed Aaron a lot in the first few sessions, and Julia knew that she'd have to see him soon, have to start confronting her true demons, but she'd managed to put him off for the first few days, she compensated for the hurt she knew she was causing him, by accepting him sending Carrie daily, and funny, jokey texts. It wasn't enough, he deserved so much more. But she knew that when he returned things would change.

Carrie drove a ridiculously old car, some sort of soccer mom station wagon that belonged in an eighties movie. But it worked, and they'd headed out every day, to see the area, beaches, restaurants, supermarkets. Carrie didn't expect conversation, she had enough to fill the car, it seemed her relationship with Aaron's driver had progressed since she'd last seen her, and she loved the chance to switch off and live vicariously through the other girl.

Thursday afternoon, Carrie had picked her up from Hofstra University and they'd driven to a nearby shopping mall. After spending some time browsing, they were sat in a diner, waiting on burgers and coke.

Julia played with her fork as she built up the courage to ask the question brewing.

"How's Aaron?"

She had no idea how much Carrie knew about her, about him, about what was happening, but the look in her eyes told her that she was worried about him.

"He's ok," she offered in a measured way. "Tired...not leaving the office much, he hasn't been like that for a long time."

So, he was back to all work and no play, that was her fault.

"I'm going to come back to the city tomorrow, I was hoping you could deliver me and the dogs?"

Her eyes lit up, "I'll get Patrick to bring the car, it's bigger. Mr Harding won't mind."

Julia grimaced, "I wanted to surprise him, just be there when he comes home."

"O-k." The response was laboured, she wasn't enamoured with the idea.

"Not a good choice?"

Carrie shrugged, "as I say, he's not leaving the office much."

That would pose a problem, she was meeting Anna at nine the following day. She'd be waiting for a man who didn't come home. She was still unsure if she was ready for this, but she had reached the point where talking wasn't enough. She had to move on, she was returning to work the following week, unable to believe he'd been missing for ten days, but life had to go on, and she needed to make things right with Aaron.

"How about you text him ask you to collect something from the apartment, when he turns up, you're there."

Her eyes lit up, "why Carrie, I do believe you are as conniving as me."

They hi-fived as the other woman grinned, "it's a gal thing!"

It felt quite sad, packing up the apartment, bundling the dogs into Carrie's car, and heading away from the paradise home of the last week. They drove back in almost silence, the radio the only thing breaking up a difficult atmosphere.

"I care about him," Carrie offered, when they stopped at some lights. "Not like Patrick, but he's more than a boss to me. And he's been so good since you've been here. But the last week..."

It was none of the other woman's business what was happening, but she'd been so good to Julia, that she knew she deserved an explanation of sorts.

"I haven't hurt him, if that's what you think. It's me. I have issues, he's giving me space..."

"And hating doing that?" Carrie knew her boss well.

Julia nodded, "he wants to make everything right, but sometimes, you just can't."

"He must hate that. He always fixes everything."

Oh, yes. That's exactly what he did. For everyone, except her. She couldn't be fixed, she just wasn't sure that he'd want something that was unfixable. Hopefully, tonight she'd know the answer.

Nothing had changed, in the week that she was away, nothing had changed. The apartment looked identical, and she wondered whether Aaron had even been there in her absence.

Dinner.

That was her agenda.

Create a perfect evening, thank Aaron for all that he'd done.

Patrick seemed to have a glint in his eye as he drove Aaron back to his Brooklyn Heights home. He had too much to do, and as usual, Julia calls, he was going running. That made him a bloody sap, but for the moment he didn't are. It was a week since he'd seen her, and he missed her so bloody much.

She wanted a book. A book of all things, but that saw him wrapping up his day, at four o'clock, and he was facing a rush hour drive to the coast, hell on legs. But he'd do it. For her.

Because it seemed there was nothing that he wouldn't do for her.

Rolling his eyes to no one, but himself, he rued this change in him. Thanks god his mother couldn't see him now.

The apartment that had been his home for years seemed empty without her, so since getting back from Boston, he'd spent one night there, instead working late and sleeping at the office. Without the dogs to worry about he could do that.

Now he had to go inside and rifle through her room looking for a book. He should be annoyed that he was being dragged miles out of his way for something so trivial, but if truth be known, he couldn't wait to see her. He'd waited all week for an invite, but none had come. Carrie had said she was 'fine', but other than that he was in the dark, and hated it. She might snatch the book from him and shut the door in his face, but it was worth the risk.

He was so desperate that he'd be happy with a quick glimpse of her.

Patrick saluted as he got out of the car, dismissed for the evening as once he'd changed, Aaron was driving himself up the coast, an arduous task where a thirty-mile drive could take almost two hours. He had a state of the art music system in his car and a handsfree kit so that he could bark instructions at employees whilst he drove, or rather sat in static traffic.

With a groan of frustration, he called the lift, normally he'd run up the stairs, but he felt like he'd need to conserve energy for the journey ahead.

He'd opened the door and kicked off his shoes before he became aware of two things, firstly a delicious smell, and secondly the scratching sound of his dogs trying to run across a hardwood floor towards him.

Lowering to a squat he caught them, then stood with one in each arm, both licking his cheek enthusiastically, five steps took him to the open plan living space and the view of a shy, blushing Julia in the kitchen, an apron wrapped over a pair of ridiculously short shorts, and a strappy top, her hair piled on her head messily, and her eyes sparkling as she watched him approach. His heart surged, his breath caught in her throat, as she tried to smile at him.

"Surprise."