Hi everyone, thanks so much for sticking with me this far. I might take a while to update but I promise I have no intention of abandoning these stories. I hope you enjoy
Peter jolted awake suddenly, unsure what had pulled him from his sleep. He reached for Carla only to find her side of the bed empty, he fumbled for a light switch, disoriented in the darkness of the unfamiliar room. Finally, he found a switch on the headboard that lit the reading lamp on his side of the bed. Squinting across the room his eyes immediately found Carla, her small frame curled up in an armchair in the corner. She was wearing his shirt, her bare feet tucked beneath her, and nursing what looked to Peter like a glass of whiskey. She turned towards him and he rubbed his eyes to check he wasn't dreaming.
"Are you ok?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.
She gave a small nod, "Caught in the act," She joked, tilting the whiskey glass slightly, the ice clinking against the side.
"What's going on?" Peter asked with concern.
"Couldn't sleep," Carla shrugged.
"What time is it?" He reached for his phone, it was gone 3am, "Why are you drinking?"
Carla tutted, "I'm too tired for lectures Peter."
He shook his head, "Come back to bed." He implored, still confused as to why she was out of bed in the first place.
"I just need a few minutes, go back to sleep, I'm fine."
"Well I'm hardly going to be able to sleep now, am I? What's going on with you?"
"I just feel a bit out of sorts."
"Out of sorts how?"
She shrugged, "Just can't sleep."
"Did I do something?" Peter asked, worried this odd behaviour was somehow his doing. She'd been fine when they'd gone to sleep, happy. They'd had a wonderful evening together, eating dinner at the hotel restaurant then heading back to their room to make love. She'd fallen asleep in his arms and he felt as though the connection between them was as strong as it had ever been. So how had they gone from that, to Carla nursing a whiskey alone in the middle of the night? Had it been too soon for her? Had he pushed her into something she didn't want? Booking the hotel had been Carla's idea, but what if she'd done it out of obligation? Peter was beginning to panic.
"No, you haven't done anything."
"Then what's going on? You've got me worried here." He said softly.
Carla placed her glass down on the small coffee table in front of her, shaking her head slightly, as though waking from a trance. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."
Peter reached out his hand, "Come back to bed," He said again.
Finally, she stood, padding across the room, before sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. Peter reached up and touched her shoulder softly, not wanting to spook her, she turned her body towards him, a small smile on her face.
"I think I just freaked out a little."
He opened his arms to her, a silent invitation to crawl into them, which after a few moments, she did. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head softly.
"Please tell me what you're thinking." He urged her.
She began stroking his forearm, "Tonight was a big deal for me." She began.
"I know."
"No Peter, you don't, not really."
"Then tell me."
She took a deep breath, "Going on dates was one thing, but this…" She paused and Peter bit his lip worriedly, "I wanted this, don't get me wrong, but I don't know. It feels real now. There's no going back."
"And do you want to go back?" Peter dared ask.
"I didn't say that." She responded, "But that doesn't make it any less scary."
He stroked her hair soothingly, "What are you afraid of?"
Carla was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts, "I'm afraid that the closer we get, the harder it'll be if things go wrong again."
Peter was unsure how to respond. He was all too aware of his shortcomings as a husband and boyfriend, but all he could offer Carla was his word, his word that he would not do again what he'd done in the past. He just didn't know how much his word was worth anymore.
Peter woke the next morning to Carla shaking his shoulder and muttering something about 'blackout curtains', he glanced at his phone: 9:30am.
"What's the rush?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.
"We have to check-out by ten!" She responded her eyes wide.
"We've got half an hour, that's plenty of time." Peter groaned, not ready to leave the confines of the duvet just yet.
"Yeah, maybe for you, you're a man." She scoffed.
"You don't have to get dolled up."
"I would like to look at least half alive before being seen in public."
"Don't be ridiculous, you always look amazing."
"Peter!" She shouted.
"Fine." He grumbled, finally sitting up.
"Is it ok if I jump in the shower?" She asked, already halfway through the bathroom door.
"Carla wait a sec." He called out and she sighed exasperatedly.
"Do we need to talk about last night?"
She'd eventually fallen back asleep and had seemed calmer, but Peter knew the situation was far from resolved.
She ran her hand through her hair, "Probably?" She said, "But I really need to get ready."
"Ok," He conceded, deciding he'd take her for breakfast after they'd checked out, Carla was always easier to talk to after her first coffee anyway. Once again Peter cursed not having a place of his own, it was starting to feel ridiculous now. What sort of grown man didn't have somewhere to take his girlfriend for a chat, or anything else for that matter. Not that he'd dared utter the G word yet, still unsure how she'd respond to the label.
They packed in relative silence, Carla too focused on ensuring her hair and makeup were up to an acceptable standard in the small window of time they had. Peter was pensive, still worrying about the things Carla had said the night before, worrying about how they'd move forwards.
They found a nearby café for some breakfast, the kind of poncy place Peter usually hated, the sort where it was a challenge to find a dish on the menu NOT containing avocado. Still Carla had picked it, and Peter wanted her to be comfortable, so he didn't complain.
"So," He began when their coffees were in front of them, "About last night."
"I'm really sorry." Carla said suddenly, "I had a great time, I really did. But I just felt so anxious when I woke up, and tossing and turning wasn't helping, so I thought I whiskey might. I wouldn't normally but I didn't want to disturb you."
"Carla, you don't have to explain yourself to me, and you certainly don't have to hide your drinking from me. I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me."
"I just felt stupid." She confessed, "This whole night was my idea and then suddenly I was panicking about it and what it all meant. I didn't want you to think I regretted what happened between us. Because I didn't. I don't." She added quickly.
Peter reached for her hand, "Carla, if you felt like you had to take things to the next level to prove we were going somewhere—"
"No, it wasn't like that." She insisted.
"Because you know I would never put pressure on you, don't you?"
"I know." She replied firmly. "Everything felt great, it was just afterwards… I don't know, it just hit me."
"Hit you?"
"That we're really doing this. Getting back together."
It was the first time she'd referred to their relationship in such certain terms, and ordinarily Peter would've been jumping for joy, but this didn't feel like a positive conversation.
"Is that not what you want?" He asked.
Her eyes met his, "It is what I want, that's why I'm so terrified."
"Don't be scared." Peter whispered, "We'll take things one day at a time, I'm not going anywhere."
After breakfast they went their separate ways, Carla back to Roy's and Peter back to his Dads where he knew he'd spend the rest of the weekend obsessing over the events of that morning, and the night before. He needed a sounding board, but he didn't know who to turn to. Peter didn't have many friends in the area, and as much as he liked Steve, he didn't really consider him the go to guy when it came to relationship advice. His only other option was sat at the dining room table as he entered the back room, but Peter wasn't sure if he was quite ready for that conversation.
"Hi Peter." His Dad greeted him, tearing his eyes away from the book he'd been engrossed in all morning.
"Hey Dad." Peter replied, taking a seat on the couch.
"How was you evening?" Ken asked causing Peter raised an eyebrow, "Simon said you were away at a business conference?"
"Oh, yeah, it was good." Despite Simon's suspicions Peter still hadn't been completely honest with his son about the nature of his relationship with Carla, a business conference had been a handy excuse when he'd told Si he was going to be away overnight.
"What was it about?" Ken inquired and Peter cursed his Dads sudden interest in the knicker trade.
"Erm, material."
"Material?"
"Yeah, like fabrics and stuff. Boring really, but Carla wanted me to go, so…"
"And how is Carla?"
Ken has always been fond of Carla, and they'd remained friendly, despite no longer being family.
"She's good."
"And working together? How's that going?"
Peter couldn't tell if his Dad was genuinely curious, or if he was getting at something. It wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that Simon, or Leanne for that matter, had voice their suspicions about his and Carla's relationship.
"It's going well, so far anyway."
"Do you think things might go sour?"
"Not if I have anything to say about it." Peter said firmly.
Ken sighed as he removed his glasses and peered thoughtfully at his son, "I know you thought by buying in you were doing Carla a favour," He began carefully, "But you would step away if you thought you were making her uncomfortable, wouldn't you?"
"Where is this coming from?" Peter was confused as to why his Dad was expressing these concerns now.
"I just worry that if your intention was to get closer to Carla by buying into her business, then it may have a negative impact on your working relationship if she doesn't… reciprocate."
"I bought into that factory in order to secure a decent future for Si." Peter said firmly, "That's all."
"And if things become untenable between the two of you?"
"Why would they?"
"Why wouldn't they?" Ken exclaimed, "She's your ex-wife and your relationship ended in extremely acrimonious circumstances. You must have considered this, surely?"
"Things are good between us now, and I want to make this work." Peter insisted.
"And what if she decides she doesn't, would you go quietly?"
"It won't come to that."
Ken sighed, "I hope not, I really do."
"Honestly, Dad, we're getting on really well." Peter briefly considered telling his Dad about the recent developments between him and Carla, but if his Dad was so sure their business relationship was going to fail, Peter could only imagine what he'd say about a personal one.
"I just hope that if it came down to it, you'd do the decent thing, and step aside." His Dads tone was firm, his expression unflinching. If his own Father had so little faith in things working between them, he could hardly blame Carla for having a wobble.
"I wouldn't hurt her again."
"I'm glad." Ken replied, his eyes returning to the abandoned book, still lying open on the table in front of him.
Peter went outside for a cigarette, he inhaled the nicotine deeply, relishing in its calming properties. He knew he only had himself to blame for his Dad's lack of faith in him. But Peter was working on hating himself less, because hating himself was what drove him to drink and he wasn't about to jeopardise his sobriety. So, he had to push those thoughts down when they reared their ugly heads. The only way to convince the people he loved that they could believe in him was to prove it, and now he had an idea as to how.