Only ever one choice, p.17
Only Ever One Choice, page 17
“Not all of us were breastfed on curry, you know,” Ashleigh comments, and they both burst out laughing at the absurdity of the statement. Ashleigh’s tapers off first, her hands reaching for one of Mikaila’s. “Thank you for today,” she says, and her words sound heavy with meaning. “It—I’m glad I got to spend it with you.”
“Thank you for agreeing,” Mikaila says in return, and she means it. “Thank you for being my Valentine.”
“You’ve been my most important one yet,” Ashleigh tells her, and then she leans in again, braving the spice.
They kiss slowly, deeply, and for long, long minutes. It feels monumental in the sense that this is the start of something they can’t quite hide from anymore.
If they ever could.
Whatever is happening between them, it’s happening.
“Mikaila,” Ashleigh murmurs, pulling back and looking into her eyes. “You’re—this is—”
“What?”
“You kissed me,” Ashleigh whispers, a little in wonder.
Mikaila stares at her. “Um, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who kissed me,” she points out.
“No, I mean, you kissed me first,” Ashleigh clarifies. “That day at the Gardener’s Cottage.”
Ashleigh always seems to come back to that, a single question altering both their lives so spectacularly for the second time. Is she in just as much disbelief at all of this as Mikaila is? Did she expect another rejection?
“You said I could,” Mikaila reminds her.
“It’s all I could think about, after,” Ashleigh tells her. “You, and your mouth, and the look on your face right before you kissed me. Like I was giving you everything you ever wanted, and I—”
“Ash.”
“Thank you.”
She frowns. “For what?”
Ashleigh rests her forehead against Mikaila’s, sighing deeply. “I am so glad you’re braver than I am,” she says, not for the first time, leaning in to kiss her again until they’re both breathless and wanting. This level of physical desire is new to Mikaila, her deepening feelings for Ashleigh contributing significantly.
She knows she’s never allowed herself to want any single person this way before. Whether that’s to do with her religion, the way she views her body, or just whom she is as a person, she doesn’t know. What she does know, though, is that Ashleigh is going to be the one to change it all.
Chapter 6
I want to cook dinner for you.
Mikaila does a bit of a double take at the sight of Ashleigh’s text, because that’s something unexpected. Her phone pings where it sits on her desk in the lab, and she switches it to silent before it bothers the only other occupant of the room.
She and Ashleigh didn’t discuss any plans to see each other when they were together on Sunday, but it’s only Tuesday and Mikaila finds herself missing her quite terribly.
Um. Okay, if you really want to.
Do you want to come over tonight?
Mikaila’s heart stutters in her chest.
To your mother’s house?
Yip. They’re all going for dinner and a movie at the Waterfront, and I want nothing more than to wine and dine (without the wine) you in my kitchen.
Please say yes. I’m making salmon. It’s going to be fancy. And fucking tasty.
Mikaila doesn’t bother replying, and rather dials Ashleigh’s number, offering JP an apologetic look that he doesn’t even notice behind the booming music coming from his headphones. He’s glumly focused on his computer monitor, prepping for his upcoming meeting with his supervisors.
“Babe,” Ashleigh answers against Mikaila’s ear, and she sounds amused. “If you actually don’t like salmon, you can just say so.”
Mikaila’s smile grows. “You don’t have to cook for me, you know.”
“You cook for me,” Ashleigh points out.
“That doesn’t mean I expect the same in return.”
“I want to,” Ashleigh insists. “Plus, I don’t actually want you to think I can’t take care of myself. I have survived the past twenty-five years, somehow.”
“You eat some of the worst food,” Mikaila reminds her.
“But I still dance and also gym a lot, so who’s the real winner here?” she immediately counters. After a moment, she adds, “I have abs.”
Mikaila shakes her head, deeply amused and so stupidly smitten. “So, tonight?”
“Their reservation is for seven, so can you come by around six-thirty? They should be out of my hair by then. They’re planning on seeing a movie after, so we should have four hours or so.”
Mikaila ignores the part where this is still some big secret, all so very cloak and dagger, and agrees.
Ashleigh lets out a loud whoop, then says she’s headed to the gym and she can’t wait to see her before promptly hanging up.
Mikaila sits for a while, digesting, and then returns her attention to her computer screen. She’s currently rereading the research project outline she’s sent to Jules, already decided that she does want to pursue doctoral work in the research area of materials engineering. While she’s not certain on an exact topic yet, her interests are linked to sustainable practices, strengths of known and unknown materials, and designing for the safety of both drivers and passengers of motor vehicles.
What that means for her PhD prospects is that she has numerous opportunities to pursue—all over the world—so she has decisions to make.
It’s just, now that she knows she’s seeing Ashleigh later, she can’t quite get any other work done. She rather looks at potential housewarming gifts for Ashleigh and Caitlin online, absently wondering if either one is any good with plants.
Because Mikaila is, in a way. She used to have a small vegetable patch in their backyard in Kimberley that she worked on with her father. They grew cucumbers and green chillis and lots of potatoes. They were successful with spinach too, though weirdly abysmal with any kind of herb. She’s never met a basil plant she could keep alive.
She adds a few items to her Wish List, figuring she can decide later. There’s still some time. Next, she messes about with her social media for another half-hour, then looks through Ashleigh’s. The fact they took as long as they did to follow each other on Instagram means that Mikaila missed a lot of posts over the years.
God, she’s beautiful.
Mikaila has known this for years, of course. She was present for the entire transformation from awkward pre-teen to devastating young woman. She just wasn’t sure what she was witnessing at the time, standing just far enough not to be blinded by everything that was and is Ashleigh von Bronckhorst, but still close enough to feel the burn.
It’s amazing how much a person can learn just by scrolling through a profile, and Mikaila is able to place faces to names Ashleigh has mentioned. She’s had this entire life in the past five years, and it’s continually jarring that Mikaila hasn’t featured in any of it.
Even more jarring that Mikaila doesn’t feature in any posts, at all. Even before the big bad friend breakup of 2016 that they’re still trying to recover from.
Well, Mikaila can’t really say anything about it, because Ashleigh doesn’t feature in any of hers, either. With that thought, she shifts from Instagram to scroll through the pictures she’s taken in the past two weeks. Mainly of Ashleigh, or of the two of them, on the beach and on Valentine’s Day. In another life, it would be so simple to post one, or all, but that just feels—It would be giving away too much and Mikaila isn’t quite ready for what that would mean.
With a sigh, she sets her phone aside, closes all her open windows, and decides she can’t keep sitting here. She needs to go. She needs to be doing something, and she can’t do that here.
It’s earlier than she would normally leave, and JP gives her a curious look. She just shrugs in response, wishes him a productive afternoon, and then escapes. She’s a little antsy, energy in her limbs she should probably get rid of before she and Ashleigh end up having an awkward evening.
Mikaila ends up going to the beach.
With her beach towel and novel in tow, she spends a lazy hour in the warm sun trying to figure out if she really would be ready for what tonight could mean. It’s unavoidable, where her thoughts have taken her. Is she ready for sex with Ashleigh?
Probably not tonight, and definitely not anywhere that isn’t her own bed for the first time, but likely sometime soon. Mikaila could be ready, maybe—she definitely wants to be—but the mere idea of it is big and terrifying.
Aside from overcoming what she needs to regarding her religion, it would also mean exposing her body, and she doesn’t know if she’s yet willing to do that.
Maybe she’ll know in the moment.
They should probably talk about it, though. Isn’t communication supposed to be the key to successful relationships and all that? Isn’t that what Cassie said?
Either way, she still showers when she gets home, and makes sure to clean shave everywhere. Islam dictates hygiene quite strictly, so it’s thankfully a quick job. Barring her arms and abdomen, she’s essentially hairless from the neck down, and she’s suddenly curious about Ashleigh’s reaction to that bit of information. If nothing else, she at least knows there’s going to be kissing involved.
Mikaila dresses casually, at Ashleigh’s instruction, choosing jeans and an old t-shirt she stole from her father’s closet when she was last in Kimberley. It’s long ceased smelling anything like him, but it still brings her comfort.
The drive isn’t all that long, which is really the beauty of Cape Town. Everything is generally just ‘seven minutes away,’ even if it isn’t.
She messages Ashleigh when she arrives, pulling into the driveway, and the gate automatically opens a moment later. For the first time, Mikaila drives into the yard, parking behind Ashleigh’s car.
Mikaila has little time to compose herself before Ashleigh appears, standing barefoot at the front door, the light behind her creating the perfect silhouette.
For a moment, Mikaila sits and takes her in. She looks soft like this, glasses on her face and looking so young and alive. She’s wearing black shorts and a Linkin Park t-shirt that looks well-worn. Her strawberry blonde hair is in a messy bun atop her head, loose strands framing her face.
She truly is stunning.
Mikaila eventually gets out of her car, hanging her small bag off her shoulder and locking the doors. Ashleigh does an adorable little hop when she’s near enough and pulls her into a hug. And then a kiss that lasts far too long, both of them sinking into the embrace.
Ashleigh pulls back quite suddenly. “Shit,” she squeaks. “My pan.”
And then she’s scrambling away, leaving Mikaila standing in the front doorway and laughing. She steps inside properly and closes the door behind her. The front area leads into a massive living space, with an exposed staircase right down the middle.
“In here,” Ashleigh yells, and Mikaila follows her voice to the right, moving around the wall and through an arch to find Ashleigh in a kitchen that looks more like a bomb went off, and what’s left is just debris.
“Everything is fine,” Ashleigh says when she notices Mikaila’s wide eyes.
Clearly, everything is not fine.
“I know what it looks like,” Ashleigh tells her. “But the mess is only because I tried to bake as well, and it—well, it didn’t turn out so well. I’m better at the whole cooking thing. It’s more forgiving if you decide to freestyle the recipe.”
Mikaila can’t stop her smile, setting her bag on the kitchen table and moving towards Ashleigh. “What were you even trying to do?”
“Bake you a red velvet cake,” she says, looking at Mikaila. “‘Started making it. Had a breakdown.’” A pause. “‘Bon appétit.’”
Mikaila laughs, catching and definitely appreciating the James Acaster reference from the celebrity version of The Great British Bake-Off. They can agree that British humour has always been superior.
“So, what’s for dinner?” she asks, peeking over Ashleigh’s shoulder.
“I’m making something called, um, salmon en croûte,” she says, her French pronunciation just perfect. Mikaila kisses her cheek in response. “It’s a Jamie Oliver recipe. Do you like spinach?”
“I don’t hate spinach.”
Ashleigh actually looks relieved. Honestly, she can be so silly, because she has to know Mikaila would eat anything she prepared. Within reason, of course.
“I got you some iced tea,” Ashleigh says. “It’s in the fridge.”
Mikaila hovers near her side as she seasons the spinach in her pan. “I can wait,” she says. “I like where I am right now.”
Ashleigh beams at her, cheeks flushed. “Do you want to put on some music?” she asks. “Grab my phone out of my back pocket. The speaker’s already connected.”
Mikaila chooses some Ed Sheeran, making a point of not looking at Ashleigh when the first bars of ‘Perfect’ start playing. It’s just that there is something very otherworldly about this moment. Something surreal. And it never quite occurred to her she would one day listen to Ed Sheeran’s music and actually experience the emotions behind his lyrics.
Because, right now, she’s cooking dinner with Ashleigh von Bronckhorst, the two of them moving around each other with ease, almost as if they’ve been doing this their entire lives, and the lyrics suddenly make sense.
Mikaila is the one who rolls out the puff pastry, and Ashleigh spreads out the cooled spinach, leaving a six-centimetre edge all around. Ashleigh lays out two pieces of salmon and seasons them while Mikaila cracks and whisks two eggs in a separate bowl. Ashleigh is the one who egg-washes the pastry once she’s folded the edges up to form an open parcel, kind of like a basket, and then Mikaila opens the oven for Ashleigh to place the baking tray inside.
For the next ten minutes, they make out against the counter, Ashleigh’s hands restless and exploring. Mikaila can barely catch her breath, overwhelmed by her proximity. Ashleigh pulls away from her only when the timer goes off. It looks as if it pains her to extract herself from Mikaila, but the integrity of their dinner requires the sacrifice.
Ashleigh pulls the tray out of the oven, mixes sun-dried tomato pesto into the remaining beaten eggs, and then pours them into the pastry basket she created, coating the salmon and making the entire dish even richer.
Back into the oven it goes, and Ashleigh shoots her an amazed look. “You are dangerous,” she gently accuses, starting to clear up.
Mikaila helps, just to have something to do with her hands. It goes quickly, Ashleigh packing the dishwasher and Mikaila finally moving to the fridge to get them both something to drink. The iced tea is right where Ashleigh said, just in front of a few bottles of beer.
Mikaila turns her head and asks, “Have you really stopped drinking?” without giving it much thought.
Ashleigh freezes where she is, a pair of plates in her hands. “For the most part, yeah,” she answers, her shoulders slightly tense. “I might still, on special occasions, but I—”
“What?”
“It’s been only a few days, but I don’t miss it as much as I thought I would,” she admits. “Which is a relief, really. I was a little worried. My brothers have been giving me stick for it, but I told them I’m on a bit of a detox.” She rolls her eyes at the sound of her own words. “My mum is delighted, though.”
“Why?”
Ashleigh moves over to the kitchen table and sets the plates on two placemats. “I know I mentioned the whole drugs and alcohol thing rather casually before, but it was pretty close to becoming a serious problem for me.”
Mikaila doesn’t know what to say to that other than, “But you’re okay now, right?”
She gives Mikaila a tiny, pleased smile. “I think, at this point in my life, I’m probably better than okay,” she says. “The best I’ve been, truly.”
“You’re trying to charm me.”
Ashleigh drifts towards her, hands already reaching for her waist and turning her to face her. “I used substances to cope, before,” she says. “With the divorce; with all the changes we went through as a family; with what was happening with the two of us, and just coping with university and friends and boys. It was always so much, and I think I just didn’t want to have to deal with any of it.”
Mikaila understands that feeling.
“Therapy really helps,” Ashleigh confesses, and her voice drops, as if she’s actually worried about Mikaila’s reaction to the fact she’s in therapy.
She truly is silly.
Mikaila leans forward and kisses the tip of her nose. “I’m glad,” she assures her, hands sliding up her arms to rest on her shoulders. “I’m really, really glad it’s been able to help.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
When it’s time, they eat at the kitchen table, Ashleigh’s foot hooked around Mikaila’s calf, because she can’t seem to go any chunk of time without touching her in some way.
The food is actually delicious, and Mikaila tells her so.
“Well, there’s no need to sound so surprised,” Ashleigh says with a pout.
Mikaila just smiles, eating another forkful. “I like it. Thank you.”
“I know my baking expedition was unsuccessful, but I do have dessert,” Ashleigh tells her. “I know how much you love Tin Roof ice-cream.”
Mikaila almost says, I love you, but she stops herself, because whoa. Where did that even come from? Those words might send them both running.
“You’re really spoiling me tonight,” she manages to get out before Ashleigh notices her fumble.
Ashleigh shakes her head, gently dismissing Mikaila’s observation. “I’m just treating you the way you deserve,” she says, and Mikaila falls deeper and deeper.
