His face is the last thing I expected to see this morning as I sit at my new desk, scoffing down a warm Danish pastry, savouring every mouthful as the buttery flakes melt on my tongue.
"Hello," he says. "You must be the new girl, I'm..." Then his eyes go wide and his mouth opens. "Steph! Is that you?" I close my mouth, frantically wiping the marmalade from my lips, sucking at my teeth to remove any remnants of food, while brushing the crumbs from my clothes. Pissing-hell, what is he doing here?
There's an awkward moment where I don't know whether to shake his hand, hug, or ignore him. After all, we haven't spoken in twenty years. He looks as awkward as me. Shit!
"Do you work here?" I ask.
"Err, no, I thought I would just come and steal some breakfast." He laughs. "Of course I work here. I'm one of the Marketing Consultants." Oh no—this means we will be working together. He's still laughing, more of a nervous laugh, although I don't ever remember him getting nervous.
"Oh!" is all I can say.
"I had no idea it was you. I knew a new girl was starting today but never imagined..." He pauses, looking at me. I've turned into a blob of Jelly; it is a good thing I am sat down, as I don't think my legs could hold me right now.
I gulp as he stares. I have a jumble of gymnasts taking turns to cartwheel in my stomach. Another awkward silence. "Where is your desk?"
"It's just here." He gestures to the desk staggered opposite mine.
"You've got to be kidding me," I say, did I said that out loud?
"Is that a problem?" he says with a smirk.
"No, no, not at all," I backtrack. "I am just surprised to see you, that's all."
Finally, a few other people walk in and dissipate the tension. Including my boss, "Ah Steph, I see you have already met Callum," he says waving his hand towards Cal.
"Yes," I say, not mentioning the fact we already know each other, and Cal doesn't mention it either, which is a relief.
"Let me introduce you to the team." My boss turns around and gestures to the few people who have just walked in. "This is Chris, he is the Marketing Specialist."
"Hi." Chris holds his hand out to shake mine. He is about my age. His short hair has started to go grey on the sides, but it looks good on him. I take his hand and smile.
"And Kelly is our Analyst," my boss continues. She smiles, showing her perfect white teeth and bobs her head, swishing her silver-blonde hair. I wave my hand at her and mouth the word 'Hi'. She is pretty and looks younger than me, or maybe she doesn't have kids—they certainly age you. My boss continues to go through the rest of the group. "And James is the Promotions Manager."
"Hello Stephanie," he says. James is good looking, too good looking for his own good, very clean-cut, and dressed in a royal blue suit. He is much younger; he would have to be to pull off that bright suit.
"Hello, nice to meet you all," I say, looking around at everyone and waving my hand in a rainbow.
"There are a few others who will arrive shortly, I am sure you will get to know everyone as the weeks' progress," my boss says.
"Thank you, Sir," I say.
"Call me Jerry," he smiles. He is a big fellow, with grey hair and a full beard, and has an authority about him. Well, he is the chief, but his smile is warm, and he seems friendly enough. Plus, he was more than generous with my salary—I can't ask for more than that. I have been desperate to get another job for a while now, working in marketing with a boss who doesn't appreciate me. Constantly asking me to work extra hours. I wouldn't mind, but I haven't had a pay rise in years.
Everyone disperses to the selection of croissants, pain au chocolates and swirly tart things laid out on the table next to the coffee machine. This job is going to do nothing for my waistline. I have never been slim and have to attend a regular slimming class just to maintain my current figure—large breasts, curvy hips, chunky thighs, but I cannot resist a Danish pastry. I look around at the now almost full office, and I think I am really going to like it here. "Meeting in thirty minutes, folks," Jerry exclaims before disappearing to his office.
Cal sits down at his desk. There are four large desks grouped together; Kelly sits next to me on the right and Cal sits opposite her next to Chris, so behind our Mac's, we can see each other. I try not to look over at Cal, but I am curious. He looks different from how he did when I knew him. His hand strokes his stubbly jaw and I can hear the scratching of a weeks growth beneath his fingers. He meets my gaze with his deep brown eyes and I look away, pressing my mouth together and chewing on my bottom lip, my eyes flit back to his white shirt, a hint of his inked torso peers through the fabric, I try to make out the design on his chest, he didn't have his chest tattooed when I knew him. A dark grey suit jacket drapes over the back of his chair. I didn't notice his shoes, but I know they are not the usual black boots with large silver buckles he used to wear. He always wore black; I don't think I ever saw him in anything else. He had a black leather coat, ripped black jeans, Rob Zombie T-shirt—that is how I remember him. Not that I ever thought of him... much. I tried to erase him from my memory; the pain was too much to bear. My shoulders slump and a wistful smile forms on my face. I am happy to have a familiar face, but why him? I need to push past this; this job is too good an opportunity to let him mess up now. He already ruined my graduation, I am not letting him ruin any more of my life. For fuck's sake, I am a forty-year-old woman; I need to get a grip.
Cal looks over at me and I realise I have been sitting here staring, not necessarily at him, just staring into space while being transported back in time. "You ready for the meeting?" Kelly asks.
"Err, yes what do I need?" I say, looking around at everyone else.
"Just a notepad and pen. There are stacks of notebooks over in the stationery cupboard if you need one." She points to the cupboard, near the breakfast table, but before I can move, Cal jumps up and grabs a book for me.
"Here you go," he says. "Do you have a pen?"
"Yes, thank you." I pull a pen from my bag.
"You can hang your belongings over here." Kelly points to a coat stand. "And there is a drawer with a lock and key under your desk if you want to put your bag in there."
"Oh, thanks," I say as I put my things away and follow her to the conference room. Cal walks to the side of me. I try to make small talk, not wanting any more awkward silences, but I overdo it with all my questions. "How long have you worked here?"
"About ten years, I had some pretty shitty jobs before that." He smiles and silently laughs at the memory. "One was working in a sock factory."
"What, making socks?" We studied marketing together—why would he be in a sock factory?
"No, it was marketing, but the role was more about creating designs for the socks, you know, those cheesy socks that my mum or Gran would always buy at Christmas."
I let out a laugh that is more of a snort. "Oh yeah, those I remember." I look away, my face flushed, and my hands clammy. "So, do you live locally?" I ask, trying to recover my mortification.
"Yes, I live about ten minutes down the road." He opens the door to the conference room and gestures for me to enter while he holds the door. "You?"
"I still live in my hometown," I reply. I have always lived there, apart from the three years spent at Uni. Cal grew up there too, we went to school together. He moved away to the city with his mum when we were doing our A-levels. "How did you end up back here, well, in the next town?" I ask.
He smiles and we sit down at the oval conference table. He sits in the chair next to me. "Long story," he says. "I will tell you about it another time."
"Ok," I say, now intrigued and wanting to know more about his life after me. He looks at me again; his smile is sincere, and his eyes are the same kind eyes that I remember, crinkling up in the corners as his smile widens. He sees my hand on the table and caresses it, I wonder what he is doing but I don't pull away as not to make a scene. His hand feels rough but warm. The gymnasts in my stomach are no longer doing cartwheels; they are somersaulting as I look back into his eyes. How can he still have this effect on me after all this time? I slap myself away from his glare and look around the room. How dare I let myself feel this way? I hate this boy or man that he is now—he broke me. I cannot forget that.
With his finger and thumb, he holds my wedding ring finger. "You're married," he says, surprised. The room fills and I realise our conversation is no longer private.
"Yes, so..." I say smugly, pulling my hand away from his grasp. He was the one I wanted to marry all those years ago, I would have done or gone anywhere with him until he shattered me into a million pieces. I search his hand for a ring but cannot see one.
Jerry walks in to chair the meeting. He starts by discussing a new client; a chain of artisan chocolate stores that are looking to re-market themselves. This should be good. I can see the diet is definitely out the window now as Sarah walks in with two boxes of chocolates from said company. Everyone dives in, including me of course. The caramel centre envelops my tongue and excites my senses, another, an orange flavour with a crunchy texture. Next, zesty lemon with a sugary coating that tastes just like lemon meringue. It's clear the packaging and logo are not branded correctly for how luxurious they are. I listen and take notes and express some ideas. Everyone seems impressed, including Cal. I have come a long way since we dated, although he helped me a lot through my studies. I graduated with a distinction; he got a merit, as I recall. By then we weren't together and he was too interested in partying and going out every night as opposed to studying. We all get assigned our own tasks and I go to my desk to come up with a new corporate identity for the artisan chocolates. I love my job; this is very similar to what I was doing before. I have worked in this business since leaving university—it's all I know.
Before I know it, it is lunchtime, everyone grabs their coats and jackets. Kelly asks, "Are you joining us for lunch, Steph? We usually go to the pub across the road."
I had brought some sandwiches in my bag, but it seems pretty lame to sit here on my own with a sandwich. "Yes, I will join you." I grab my jacket off the coat rack and pull out my bag from the drawer, minus the sandwiches. Cal hangs back for me, so we can walk out together. I stumble as I reach the door; he steadies me, taking hold of my arm, and my face is once again on fire. I am desperate to make a good impression. Why should I care? I have a wonderful husband at home and two amazing kids (mostly when they are not fighting, being cheeky, and such like).
"So, who is the lucky fella?" Cal asks.
"What?"
"Your husband?"
"Oh, his name is Justin."
"What does Justin do?"
"He's a builder, a bricklayer. Are you married?" I think I already know the answer to this.
"No," he says. I didn't think he would ever marry; after we parted, I realised he would never settle down. As much as I tried, he had commitment issues. Most likely caused by his parents' failed marriage and his dad abandoned them when he was young.
"Any kids?" he asks.
"Yes, I have one of each, you?"
"Yes, two daughters."
"Oh," I say, shocked. He obviously stayed with someone long enough to reproduce not one, but two kids. "So, you have a partner?"
"Well, it's complicated, but I am no longer with the girls' mother."
That isn't a surprise. "I'm sorry," I say.
"Don't be sorry, she was never the love of my life, things just happened and I stayed for my daughter. Then we had Bethy, and I stayed as long as I could, but it just didn't work out."
"You still see the kids though, right?" I ask with bated breath, hoping he hasn't turned into his father after all the conversations he would have with me about rejection.
"Yes, of course, I get them a few days a week and alternate weekends. They are everything to me."
I smile at him and nod; I can't imagine what it must be like to not live with your children. I would no doubt enjoy a break but not every week; not being able to tuck them in every night, I'm sure I would even miss the constant fighting and bickering. We finally reach the pub, an old traditional bar, bustling with people from the industrial estate. We all sit at a long table and Cal asks me what I would like to eat and drink. I am driving after all, so just order fizzy water with a splash of lime. Not sure what food they do here—nobody seems to have a menu—I ask for whatever he is having. I grab a tenner from my purse, but Cal doesn't take it and walks to the bar. He comes back with my drink sitting down opposite me. "I have ordered you a Brie and cranberry baguette with chips."
"Thank you, how much do I owe you?"
"Nothing, it's fine," he says and waves his hand in the air to gesture for me to put my money away.
"Cal, you can't go paying for my lunch."
"Well, you get mine tomorrow then we're even." He smiles.
"All right, thank you."
Cal sits picking at the old wooden table. "I still can't believe it's you."
"I know," I say. "It seems like another life when we saw each other last."
"Yes, it does, I am a different person now, Steph," he says.
"Well, you look the same, maybe your clothes are smarter though." A small laugh escapes as I sip my drink.
"Yeah." He laughs, looking down at his attire. "I still have my Rob Zombie T-shirts though." I remember I used to wear them all the time, and before I realise it, I am smiling at the memory.
"So, tell me all about what you have been up to," I say.
"Oh, this and that, I lived in Australia for a few years."
"What?" He always talked about travelling, but I always thought he meant for a holiday—I cannot believe he actually lived there.
"Yeah, I just packed my bags one day, bought a plane ticket and went travelling. I was only planning on staying till my money ran out, but I ended up getting a job in a bar and staying for several years."
"That's wonderful," I say, sipping my drink, really impressed and proud that he actually followed his dream of travelling.
"I got a job in marketing out there, eventually."
"What made you come home?"
"My mum was poorly, she had cancer." His tone changes, his eyes gloss over as he talks of his mum.
"I am so sorry, Cal." I place my hand on top of his as he rests it on the table, knowing how much his mum meant to him and what a lovely woman she was. He turns his hand over and caresses my touch; the feel of him sends my entire body into mush as I gaze into his sad eyes. Not wanting to bring up any more hurtful memories, I ask no more questions.
After holding my hand for what seems like an eternity, he says, "She beat it though, eventually, she's a fighter, my mum." A wave of relief washes over me and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"I'm so glad, Cal," I say with tears threatening my eyes.
Changing the subject. "What did you get up to after Uni?"
"Nothing as exciting as travelling. I went home, had a few crappy jobs, met Justin a few years later, and that's about it, really. Quite boring, isn't it?"
"No, it's not boring, I expected as much. I knew, well, I hoped you would find someone to make you happy, are you happy, Steph?" he asks as he looks into my eyes. I swallow, nobody has ever really asked me that before, I mean, really asked am I happy. What more could I ask for? I have a new job, a husband and two children, our family is complete. But after seeing him again, I can't help but feel that something is missing in my life.
"Yes, I am happy."
"I'm glad," he says, his hand still holding mine.
I pull my hand away as our food arrives. Cal has ordered a burger with chips and my baguette looks delicious. "Is it ok?" he asks.
"Yes, thank you, I can't believe you remembered what I like after all this time." He smiles and takes a bite of his burger.
Kelly turns to me. She must have cottoned on to our conversation. "Do you two already know each other?"
"Yes," we both reply in unison and tell her we went to school together, nothing more. The situation is bizarre enough without everyone in the office knowing that I loved this boy more than life itself, my best friend, my lover, my man, except he is none of those things now and he hasn't been for a long time but seeing him again is like we've never been apart.
My phone buzzes. Shit, I forgot to text Justin.
"Hi," I say into my handset.
"Hi, how's it going?"
"Everything is going well." I look at Cal and feel awkward talking to my husband in front of him, so I excuse myself from the group and head outside. I've finished my food now, anyhow. "Everyone is really friendly, I had a pub lunch."
"What about the sandwiches I made you?"
"Well, I wasn't going to sit and eat my sandwiches when everyone else was going to the pub."
He agrees and laughs. "No, I guess not. What do you want for tea? I will pick something up on my way home."
"Whatever you want to cook," I say.
"Ok, I will see what's on offer in the supermarket."
"See you later, then."
"Yes, see you later."
As I hang up the phone, everyone is making their way outside as it's time to get back to work. The rest of the day goes quick. I am ready for a large glass of wine after the shock of today. I say my goodbyes and notice Cal getting into his car—he is driving a black Audi. He didn't drive when I knew him before, neither did I.
***
By the time I get home, Justin has already started on tea; the smell of chilli fills the entire house. "Did you have a good day?" he asks, stirring the rice as I take my jacket and shoes off.
"Yes, it was good." I walk into the kitchen and go straight for the drinks cabinet. "Do you want a glass of wine, Justin?"
"Go on then, are we celebrating your first day?"
"Yes, something like that." I laugh, not telling him the actual truth—I need something to take the edge off and relax me after being tense all day sat across from my ex-boyfriend. The white wine tastes sweet and refreshing on my tongue and slides down my throat like silk.
Just as I sit and relax at the dining room table watching Justin plate up, the kids come running in. "Mum, Cassie called me a stupid idiot," Cairen cries.
Then Cassie follows, "Mum, he was in my room and messing with my dolls." And so it begins... I roll my eyes and take another drink; I have my own problems right now.
"Cairen, stay out of her room, and Cassie, stop calling people names," Justin shouts, seeing my frustration. He places our plates on the table and we all sit down to eat. "So, have you been working on anything exciting?" Justin asks.
"Yes, we are rebranding a chocolate company that makes artisan chocolates." I tell him about the abundance of Danish pastries in the office this morning, my Brie and cranberry baguette at lunch, and the two boxes of chocolates at the meeting that somehow made their way back to our desks. "The diet has well and truly been blown this week," I laugh. "Hence the wine, I figure I may as well go all in, even if it is only a Monday."