Best Friends' Off-Limits Kiss - Chapter 6

I wake up to sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains and Rachel’s arm draped across my waist.

For approximately thirty seconds, the world is perfect. Then my phone buzzes on the bedside table. I try to ignore it. Rachel makes a small noise in her sleep and burrows closer, her face pressed into the curve of my neck, and I think: I could stay here forever. I could wake up like this every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it. Never think about the after looming
right ahead of me.

My phone buzzes again.

‘Your phone’s having a breakdown,’ Rachel mumbles against my skin.

‘It’s fine. Ignore it.’

She lifts her head enough to squint at me. Her hair is doing something extraordinary, sticking up on one side, and there’s a crease from the pillow across her cheek. I have never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life.

And this is the woman who loves me.

‘You should check it,’ she says. ‘Could be important.’

It’s not important. It’s the opposite of important. Nothing could ever be as important as this moment between us and all the possibilities unfurling. But she’s looking at me with those eyes and I’m apparently incapable of rational thought when she’s this close, so I reach over and grab my phone.

The email subject line makes my stomach drop.

Job Offer—Response Required by Monday 9 a.m.

I must have made a face because Rachel shifts to look at me. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. Just work stuff.’ I set the phone back on the side table too quickly, screen-side down.

‘Work stuff? While we’re at a retreat?’

Oh yeah, I didn’t think this far ahead. The job offer slipped from my mind with everything going on between us. And at the beginning of the retreat, I had been adamant I was going to take it, find some way to explain it to Rachel.

What am I supposed to do now? ‘It’s nothing, really. Just some stuff I need to sort out. We should get ready—what time’s the debrief?’

‘Eight.’ She props herself up on one elbow. ‘What was it?’

‘Just the hospital being annoying about scheduling next week.’ I swing my legs out of bed. ‘Do you want to shower first?’

I can feel her watching me as I rummage through my suitcase. My hands are shaking. I cannot believe that after years of wanting this, my first instinct is to lie to her face. But I don’t know what to do. The newness of our situation, its inherent fragility, throws me off. We’d told each other we could
do this, but what if I’m about to give up an opportunity for something that could boost my career?

‘Maya,’ Rachel says, and there’s something in her voice that makes me turn around.

She’s sitting up now, sheet pooled around her waist, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read.

‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Promise. Just need coffee.’

She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go.

***

The simulated casualty is a second-year foundation doctor called Briggs who’s taking his role far too seriously. He’s lying on the floor clutching his leg and moaning with the commitment of someone who’s always wanted to be in EastEnders, and I’m trying very hard not to laugh as Rachel kneels beside him and starts her primary survey.

‘Compound fracture, left tib-fib,’ she says, already reaching for the splint. ‘Maya, can you get pressure on that bleed?’

I’m there before she finishes the sentence. My hands find the wound—well, the fake wound, a rather impressive silicone prosthetic that Hargreaves has clearly spent budget on—and apply pressure whilst Rachel stabilises the limb. We don’t need to talk. She angles the splint; I adjust my grip. She reaches for the bandage; I lift without being asked.

Briggs peers up at us. ‘Am I going to make it, Doc?’

‘Touch and go,’ Rachel says, without looking up. ‘But you’re in good hands.’

Her eyes flick to mine, just for a second, and the warmth in them has nothing to do with medicine.

***

Dr Hargreaves is, predictably, in full form.

‘Excellent work, everyone!’ She clicks to the next slide, and there’s a photo of the patient from the training exercise, sitting up in a hospital bed, giving a thumbs-up. ‘Thanks to the quick thinking of Drs Sterling and Patel, our colleague is expected to make a full recovery.’

Polite applause. Someone wolf-whistles.

‘Honestly, you two should just work together permanently. I’ve never seen better synchronisation,’ Dr Hargreaves says.

I laugh. It comes out wrong—too loud. Rachel glances at me. Does everyone secretly know I got a job offer and is somehow making fun of me?

When we’re finally dismissed, I try to slip out quickly, but Rachel catches my elbow.

‘Can we talk?’

She steers me towards an empty corridor. We end up by a window overlooking the lake, and she turns to face me with her arms crossed.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing’s—’

‘Don’t.’ Her voice is quiet but firm. ‘You’ve been weird since this morning. Your face did something during the debrief. And you lied about what’s on your phone.’

‘I didn’t lie—’

‘Maya.’ She takes a step closer. ‘Is it because of last night? Please tell me if you’re having second thoughts. I promise I won’t…’ She lets her sentence ring out unfinished, and I have no idea where she’s going with it. She won’t what? Freak out about me taking a job at the opposite end of the country? Be angry at me for lying to her?

The thing about Rachel is that she’s always been able to see through me. Eight years and she knows every tell. And though last night changed us, the connection is the same. Just more intense.

‘There’s a job offer,’ I hear myself say.

Rachel’s eyes widen. ‘What?’

‘In Edinburgh. The deadline to decide is Monday morning.’

‘Monday.’ A pause. ‘How long have you known?’

This is the moment where it all comes apart, isn’t it?

‘I’ve been interviewing for a few weeks, and I had a good feeling about this one. But I haven’t decided anything, Rach. And this…’ I pause, swallowing the ball lodged in my throat. ‘This changes things. I made the decision to leave before knowing any of this between us.’

The silence is so loud I can hear my own heartbeat.

‘A few weeks,’ Rachel says. ‘And when were you going to tell me? We work at the same hospital, Maya. You were just going to leave?’

‘I was going to tell you—’

‘When? After you’d already gone?’ Her voice is sharp and so unlike her. It leaves me struggling to find the right words.

‘It’s not that simple. I didn’t think of leaving until I sent in the application and actually got a response.’ I’m scrambling for what to say because I haven’t made up my mind yet. None of this was supposed to happen the way it has, and now that I’m standing here, I don’t know what to do. Because yes, last night was all I had ever wanted, but how do I know it’s going to last when it took us eight years to get here in the first place?

I hate how much the doubts are clinging to me in the light of day.

‘Were you just going to hand in your notice and disappear?’ Rachel asks, and I flinch at the hurt in her voice.

‘I haven’t decided anything yet—’

‘You’ve known for weeks and didn’t say a word. That sounds pretty decided to me.’ Her throat moves as she swallows, and though I understand her hurt, a part of me snaps at her repeated interruptions. Sure, she feels some type of way about this, but so do I, and why isn’t she giving me the grace to explain myself?

‘I was frustrated, okay?’ The words burst out of me. ‘I was frustrated with my life. I was frustrated with waiting—’

I stop. That’s not something I meant to share. But the words float between us now.

‘Waiting?’ Rachel’s eyes are bright. ‘Waiting for what?’

‘Nothing. Forget it.’

‘Waiting for me?’ Her voice goes quiet. ‘Is that what you mean?’

I can’t look at her because I might actually burst into tears. It’s impossible to hide anything from her, except apparently the depth of my feelings, since she’s never made a move on me until now. Now, when I’m all but ready to move on with my life.

‘Christ, Maya.’ She laughs, but there’s no humour in it. ‘I’ve been the one sitting with you every time someone breaks your heart. I’ve been the one pouring wine and listening to you cry and cleaning you up, and you never—not once—saw me. And now you’re telling me you got tired of waiting for me?’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Isn’t it?’ She takes a step back. ‘You’re acting like I’m the one who’s been oblivious here, but you’ve spent eight years dating people who treat you terribly whilst I—watched.’

‘You could have said something. Why do you think I kept dating people who were clearly not going to last? Why do you think I kept coming back to you to seek reassurance?’

‘So could you!’ Her voice cracks. ‘But instead you got a job offer and kept it secret. You started this thing between us with one foot out the door.’

‘I kept it a secret because I knew you’d react like this. When we came here, I wasn’t expecting any of this. And now that we have… What if—?’

‘What if what? If this doesn’t work? We’ve had one night, Maya. One night and you’re already looking for the exit.’

The accusation stings because it’s true. It’s exactly what I’ve been doing. But how can she not understand? ‘I’m scared,’ I say quietly.

‘So am I.’ She presses her hands to her face, and I can see they’re still trembling. ‘But I’m here. I’m trying.’

‘I know.’ My voice breaks. ‘I know you are.’

She looks at me, and the expression passing over her face breaks my heart. Before I can stop myself, my hand grabs her wrist. ‘I’m not going to take it, Rach. It was a fanciful idea, but I don’t want to leave you. I want to see where this goes. I want…you.’

She looks down where my fingers are pressing into her skin. Her free hand lifts, and then slowly, she winds herself out of my grip. ‘Don’t make any decisions with us in mind. You didn’t when you first applied for the job, so don’t feel like you have to now,’ Rachel says, and her voice is so quiet, I can hear my heart cracking in my chest. ‘I need some space for a bit. We still have a whole day of team building left where we need to be normal or Hargreaves will have our arses.’

‘No—’ Panic floods through me. ‘Please don’t do this. I’ll say no. I’ll tell them no right now. I’ll—’

‘Don’t.’ She holds up a hand.

‘But I want to—’

‘Maya.’ Her eyes are red. ‘I want you to be happy. I want you to make the choice that’s right for you. Even if that means—’ Her voice catches. ‘Even if that means leaving.’

‘I don’t want to leave.’

‘Then don’t. But don’t stay just because you’re scared of what I’ll think if you go.’

She turns to walk away.

‘Rachel—’

‘We have another team-building thing in twenty minutes,’ she says without looking back. ‘We should both get ready.’

Then she’s gone, and I’m standing alone by the window with my phone in my hand and the crushing realisation that I’ve just broken the only thing I’ve ever really wanted to keep whole.