For Alice, With Love

Chapter 11 - Interrupted

"I don't want to hear this," Chris grumbled. "But I suppose we'll have to deal with it. Send me the report, I'll look through it and draw my findings for next week's pipeline update."

The voice on the other end of the phone call said something, but Chris didn't hear. It sounded something like "goodbye" so he ended the call and threw the phone down onto the desk. The little red circle on his phone icon taunted him, but he ignored it. He was distracted.

He'd been distracted all damned morning.

It had been a few days since he and Mel had reinstated their friendship. After the talk in the stable, he was still processing that she had read him so easily. Then, the wave of attraction that overtook him on the couch was confusing the hell out of him. He felt like he should acknowledge how he felt, but how was the question.

He did have an absurd need to make sure she thought well of him. Did she? They'd not had much chance to see one another, she'd been doing a lot of gardening, he'd had to drive into the city a couple of times, and he'd watched her go out on her horse yesterday with some friends who had ridden over from a neighbouring stable. A desire to be there beside her had jolted him. When was the last time he got on a horse? Too long, it seemed.

He hadn't gone out to party at all since that night he'd called his mom. He wasn't drinking—as much—and had used the gym downstairs a few times, as well as the pool early in the mornings, like he used to in High School. He had forgotten how misty the back lawns were in the summer, dawn birds signing; the entire world peaceful for those few laps he would stroke out before getting breakfast.

After he used the pool this morning he'd treated it and turned on the weird pool cleaner thing that reminded him of one of those fish always stuck to the side of a fish tank. He'd noticed Mel's to do list on the kitchen table beforehand, and took it on for her. He'd seen David do it enough times to know where the chemicals were, and he crossed it off her list with a quick "done" scrawled beside it before he'd gone to shower.

Standing at the pool with his toes curled over the edge, the sunrise almost finished, contentment stole over him while the hum of the pool pump whirred in the background. He wondered if this was why his dad always got up early and sat out here, in the summer. In truth, he was more himself than he had felt in a very long time.

Maybe his mom was right, this place was what he needed. Certainly he was happy with the change in pace. He was rested, at least physically. Admitting to Mel how he hadn't been coping so well also seemed to have lifted some sort of wall in his head.

Talking to her about it had been relieving, and it went a long way to being comfortable with her again. The Mel he remembered emerged, and he relaxed at how easy it was to be around her, the constant laughter, no need for pretenses. Was Mel what he needed?

An email had appeared in his inbox while he'd been on the phone, and he refocused on his workday, shaking off the tail-chasing he was doing in his head. He clicked it open. Without even reading the subject, the stress was back, snapping into his shoulders like a rubber band.

Gillian.

She wanted to meet. Something about paintings in the condo. Great. Paintings he had sold with the condo and given her the proceeds from. It had been sent from her cellphone, from the looks of it, and as he picked up his phone to text her, saw several unseen text messages. Then, right on cue, it rang.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" the annoyed voice on the other end. Speak of the she-devil.

"Gillian. Nice to hear from you," he deadpanned. "What can I do for you?"

He heard her huff out over the phone and say something to someone, muffled. Ordering coffee. An annoyance headache was inbound almost immediately, and he lowered his head into his free hand, elbow on the desk.