Head On (Strength And Love)(36)

It’s finally our official date night. Although the last week, and a bit of having her at my house, feels like one long date. A break from reality that I’ve loved. I know once her dad gets back she’ll move back home, which is the right thing to do. And then I can hopefully date her properly, because I don’t want this to end.

As I drive her to our meal out, I think about starting work for Liam. I’ve met with him once since his email, and he wants me to meet the rest of the team tomorrow although I know them all anyway. I’m gonna take the job. Not that my clients know yet. I feel bad stringing them along, particularly Selina, who is as close to a friend as any client can get. But I’ve still not figured out if Rick Smythe is the one who came after Isla and me. His phone didn’t reveal much, and Luka’s gone back in today to lift his laptop.

Liam’s helping, too. One to create a distraction, the other to take the laptop. But until I know for sure who is fucking with her, I don’t want anyone thinking there’s anything serious between me and Isla. I doubt Selina would mean to create trouble, but she’s a gossip, and this place is a small enough market town for word to spread. I don’t want people knowing she’s staying here. Or what my feelings for her are. And they’re getting deep, fast…which messes with my head.

I’ve booked a table at Milano’s and as I pull up outside, I’m hoping she likes it.

I get out of the car and go around and open her door. She steps out, looking radiant and beautiful. She’s wearing a simple dress, something long and a bit floaty. I wish she owned a bit more confidence in her body, not because I care what she wears. I don’t give a crap if she wants to go out in a sack. But I know she’s self-conscious about her scars, and she’s no need to be. Her beauty shines through, both inner and outer.

“Wow, this place is fancy.” She looks around, her eyes wide.

Is it? I suppose so. I’ve grown used to it. Another thing I love about being with her is how she sees the world. I get to see it all through her eyes, and it’s exhilarating. The smallest thing, like walking the dogs, brings her pleasure. I’m not sure if it’s her youth, or her general character. Perhaps avoiding death at such a young age is what gives her this lease for life. Then again, I’ve avoided death a fair few times myself, and I’m jaded as fuck.

“Evening, Mr. Foston.” The head waiter shows us to our table, a nice quiet spot in the orangery out back as I requested. I sometimes bring clients here when they want to go out and not just fuck.

“Do you come here with clients?” There’s hurt in Isla’s voice as she asks me, and I suddenly regret my decision to come here.

“I have…sometimes.”

“Okay.”

She looks at the menu and bites her lip. I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me. “They meant nothing. I know it’s a cliché, but it’s true. Nothing.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help being jealous.”

I get it, I truly do. I’d be jealous if she’d only been with one person before me. I want her to be all mine. But at the same time, I can’t change the past. “Isla. Listen to me. I’ve not dated for over five years. Before then I dated like two women, and had one relationship. And to be honest, the only reason I had that relationship is because I fell into it. It was easy. It was nice to come home to a warm bed. But I can honestly say I didn’t love her. I didn’t even like her half the time. None of my clients meant anything to me. They’re not lovers, hell, they’re aren’t even friends. I don’t kiss them. Ever. You’re the first person I’ve kissed in years. Do you get what that means? What I’m trying to say is, you’ve no need to be jealous. None.”

The waiter comes over and I order a whisky and ginger, and she requests a sparkling water.

“I know you say they didn’t mean anything. But, Ethan, you did the most intimate thing a person can do with them.”

How do I explain this without sounding like a total bastard? “I don’t see it that way. I don’t see fucking someone as intimate.”

Tears spring to her eyes, and I put my hand over hers. “Let me finish, Isla. Generally, sex to me is no more intimate than anything else I do. It’s a pleasant distraction for twenty or thirty minutes. If I’m with a client, it’s not even that, because I must focus purely on them, but in an almost clinical way.” I feel my face heating and I never fucking blush. Shit. I hate talking about this with her, but I owe her the truth. “Some of the time I don’t even come. I use a condom and tie it off and put it in a bag to throw away at home, and they think I have, but I haven’t. I get paid well to take care of them, and I don’t think what I do is disgusting. Most of those women are in cold, frigid marriages. They haven’t had sex or been held in ages. They’re not like guys. They don’t screw because they get the chance, or for the sake of it. They are doing it, paying me, because they’re neglected. It’s a job. I do it for money, and I got into it through a friend of mine who does it. It’s flexible and meant I could help Ann. But, I don’t think I should have to justify it.”

The waiter comes over with our drinks, and I take a sip of mine before fixing her with my gaze. I want her. I want to try and make this work. But I’m not going to beg forgiveness for something I don’t see as wrong. “Look.” The waiter heads off and I resume our conversation. “You’re jealous, I get it. And that I can reassure you on. You have no need to be. I had zero feelings for my clients. I didn’t even have the hots for any of them. Yes, they are attractive women, but it’s like I put up a barrier in my brain, and they were clients to me. Nothing more, nothing less. I’ll reassure you as much as I can on that score. But, I won’t apologise for what I did. Bottom line, you’re jealous, we can deal. You’re disgusted by it? I take that as you being disgusted by me, and that…we can’t work out.”