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Like Daylight

Summary:

Rebecca Armstrong has the perfect life. On paper, anyway: a successful barrister in London, a loving boyfriend, and a supportive family. But she can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing, if only she could figure out what that something is. Until she does, she continues to go through the motions of her day-to-day life, hoping that around the next corner is a new future.

Sarocha Chankimha, Freen, loves her life. She teaches art to kids at a school in Bangkok. She’s close with her mother, has an amazing group of friends, and even though she longs for someone to share her days with, she is perfectly content with how things are. During her school break, she decides to visit London and explore the art galleries and gardens in the city half a world away, a city she’s only read about in books.

When the two meet unexpectedly, they’re drawn together by an invisible force too strong for either of them to deny. But they’re separated by more than distance, and the pull to stay with one another will change both of their lives forever.

Notes:

This idea came to me while I was working on the last few chapters of Near You Always, and I had to run with it. My intent is to make it novel-length and novel-quality, so be patient with me cause that might take some time between chapters, especially as I continue to work on stuff for the Endless Honeymoon series.

Quick note that, like the tags say, the characters in this are aged up a few years from now: about 27 and 30.

While this is loosely based on some facts from the lives of Becky and Freen, it's a wholly original work. Please don't reproduce without my express permission.

Chapter 1: It Can't Rain All the Time

Chapter Text

 

For the third day in a row in London, it’s raining. Nothing out of the ordinary for late March, but it still feels somehow unending, like it’s been a decade since there was a dry day. Barrister Rebecca Armstrong is standing, arms crossed over her chest, staring at the rain-soaked city from her office on the thirty-third floor. There aren’t corner offices in this building, but the curved window is huge and offers a stunning view of London Bridge, spanning across the Thames towards Southwark. 

Rebecca lets her imagination flow with the current of the river, following it to the North Sea and beyond. Behind her, the desk phone rings. She turns from the window with a sigh and glances at the caller ID. Dropping into her seat, she picks the handset up. “Rich, what’s up and why didn’t you text me?”

“Because you ignore my texts, Becks. Are we still on for our double date? I know Iris is looking forward to seeing you. It’s been ages.” There’s a pause. “You work too hard.”

Ignoring the latter part, Rebecca mutters an affirmative to his first question while she pulls her email up, skimming through her inbox as her brother rattles off details of the evening. She answers all of his questions with one or two words, until he sighs and says he’ll let her get back to whatever she’s doing. 

“See you tonight, Kid.”

She hates when he calls her that. They’re only two years apart and she’s always been more mature. While he was rowing and hanging out with friends in school, she had her nose in her books or was pushing herself to her limits in martial arts. Rebecca had made plenty of friends — despite her introversion she’s naturally charismatic, drawing people to her like moths to a flame — but they’d drifted mostly apart during their university years. She’d made new ones, but not as many, and now had a small social circle that consisted of a few close friends, her boyfriend, Nolan, and her family. 

She’s happy. 

She tells herself she’s happy, anyway, every day when she wakes up. She repeats it to herself again in the tube on the way to work and on the way home. Despite his repeated asking for the last several years of their relationship, Rebecca has yet to move in with Nolan. He’s remained nothing but patient with her when she tells him she’s not ready, that she needs her own space to unwind after her long work days, surrounded by people who constantly need her to be her best. So when she does finally get home to her own flat, she curls up and thinks about how happy she ought to be.

It’s not that she’s unhappy, really. She doesn’t cry herself to sleep. She doesn’t cry at all, in fact, and hasn’t in years. She’s content with how things are, she can check off all the boxes of a perfect life: financial and professional success, a conventionally attractive and understanding boyfriend, a loving family.

The only problem, Rebecca tells herself on those nights when she curls up and stares, unseeing, at the television, is that “fine” was never the way she wanted her life to turn out. Fine feels like defeat.

There’s a knock at her door, pulling her from her thoughts. A moment later her assistant, Angie, steps in. “Sorry, Rebecca, you wanted me to remind you about dinner.”

Rebecca laughs and shakes her head. She appreciates everything that Angie does for her, including keeping her on time for meetings, appointments, and court appearances. Rebecca’s never been one for watches. It’s her little way of trying to introduce some adventure into her life, through the chaos of living without a set time.

Angie is a few years older than Rebecca and she often feels like an older sister, even though technically Rebecca is her boss. “Thanks, Angie, but Rich just called to remind me himself.”

Angie nods and lingers in the doorway for a moment. Rebecca’s feeling that she came in, instead of emailing or chatting, for a reason is confirmed. “Do you have a second?”

“Yeah, of course,” Rebecca sits up in her chair and gestures to one of the two seats on the other side of her desk. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Rebecca. I just wanted to ask—” She trails off, and Rebecca blinks rapidly. A sudden worry hits her gut: that Angie is going to quit, that she’ll be left in this place without an ally, even though she knows that’s ridiculous and she has plenty of friends here. Friendly acquaintances. Colleagues she doesn’t mind spending time with. Regardless, she wouldn’t be completely alone.

“There’s an event at the National Gallery. A kind of black tie fundraiser sort of thing.”

Rebecca tries to hold back her surprise, but gestures for Angie to continue. “And?”

“Would you go with me?”

“Huh?”

“Just as friends, obviously.” Angie is very out as bisexual and is one of the few people Rebecca has told that she thinks she might not just be interested in men. She clearly feels the need to clarify that there’s nothing unprofessional behind the request, which Rebecca would tell her isn’t necessary if she could think of a good way to do it that didn’t sound insulting. “Bo broke up with me over the weekend—”

“Oh, Ang, I’m sorry.”

Angie shakes her head. “It’s okay, I think I knew it was coming. They’d been really distant for the last few weeks. Anyway, I kind of won these tickets in that silent auction the firm had a few months ago, and now I need a plus one on short notice. I happen to know your schedule, and you’re free Friday night.”

Rebecca smiles. “I can’t decide if that’s creepy or sweet.”

“Whichever one won’t get me fired.”

“Neither will. But sure, I’d love to. I haven’t been to a museum in ages. And I bet the food will be great.” She’s already hungry thinking about it. 

Angie laughs as she gets up. “I think you’re the hungriest person I’ve ever met. So, Friday. You’ve got two days to find something to wear.”

“Not worried.” Rebecca has plenty of outfits for formal events. She’s been to her fair share throughout her life. The perks — and pratfalls — of growing up the daughter of a wealthy businessman with connections in high levels of commerce and government. “But let me know what you’re wearing and I’ll do my best to match you.”

“Will do, Boss.” Angie grins as Rebecca scowls at her. She’s teasing; she knows Rebecca doesn’t like the nickname. “Partner meeting in ten.”

Nodding, Rebecca waves Angie out the door, going back to her email. She stares at the screen mindlessly for a few minutes before giving up and leaving early for the meeting. She grabs her folders and laptop and walks to the elevator, her mind thousands of miles away.

Dinner that night goes predictably. So predictably Rebecca considers recording herself and sending the voice memo in her place next time. They eat at a nice French place because Rich wants to show off how worldly he is to his English girlfriend. He orders for the table and the server, who does not speak French, stares at him for a moment before Rich repeats himself in English.

Nolan is as attentive as ever, his hand barely leaving Rebecca’s thigh or the small of her back as they wait for the food, the table listening to her discuss her latest cases with vague details. She’s gotten so good at ignoring the feeling of constantly being watched that she barely notices. 

When the appetizer arrives, Rich serves them all, asserting himself at the man of the table in a way that causes Rebecca to roll her eyes. She loves her brother, but sometimes he peacocks a bit too much for her liking, especially with his girlfriends. He’s been with Iris for a long time, though. She sighs. The last thing she needs is for Rich to get engaged before she does, her mother will never let her hear the end of it.

“Cheer up, Kid,” Rich winks at her as he lowers himself back into his seat. “This is one of the best French places in town.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “Always the best and never the same place twice.”

“It’s my philosophy.”

She shakes her head, an amused smile on her face. Rebecca likes the feeling of being a regular; she’s a regular at the pub in her neighborhood, where she goes for every Man U match, drinks too much beer, and inevitably gets into an argument with someone who dislikes her team. Nolan never goes with her on match nights — he doesn’t like football — but he always takes care of her when she’s hungover the next morning. 

They all chat and eat through the appetizer and main course, the topics the same as they usually are. Rebecca half listens and still manages to respond well enough that nobody suspects she’s busy running through tomorrow’s pre-trial hearing in her head, rehearsing for her statements and trying to guess the objections of her opposing counsel. 

“So,” Rich claps his hands together as they wait for the dessert cart. “What’re you doing Friday, Becks?”

“Huh?” The question catches her off guard. It’s too specific. She narrows her eyes at him. “Why?”

“Mum and Dad are in town and want to spend time with us and our ess-ohs.” He grins, drawing out the letters. 

Rebecca blinks. “Why didn’t they tell me they were coming?”

“Maybe because they figured you’d avoid them if you had advanced notice.” Rich shrugs. “Besides, Nolan said you two have nothing Friday, you’re good.”

“Rich…” Nolan starts to defend her, or maybe himself, but Rebecca holds up a hand. Iris starts to fold her napkin, unfold, and refold it so she has something else to focus on besides the sibling argument that is clearly about to happen.

“First of all, I’m not avoiding them.” She’s avoiding them. Every time they see each other, her mum asks about Nolan and marriage, and why she’s waiting so long. Her dad, bless him, is usually too busy dealing with some call or email emergency and isn’t mentally present enough to get his wife to change topics. “Second of all, I have an event Friday night that I said yes to because I didn’t know they’re coming .”

Nolan turns to look at her. “What event?”

“It’s a gala at the National Gallery, some fundraiser thing Angie invited me to.”

“Angie? Why isn’t she going with Bo?”

Rebecca turns now to actually look at her boyfriend. His brow is creased, which is very rare for him unless he’s watching a commercial about homeless pets or somesuch. He’s usually so even-keeled. Is he… jealous? That seems odd. She’s never told him she’s attracted to women, he would have no reason to think anything more than platonic was happening with Angie. Rebecca decides to test her theory. She gives him her best innocent smile. “They broke up with her, I guess, and she needs a date. Going to a black-tie thing by yourself is the worst.”

“Oh.” He looks for a moment like he’s considering asking her something else, and she really really wishes he would, but instead, his brow smooths out and he smiles at her. “Yeah, I’m sure it is. That’s why I always take you to those, Buttercup. My favorite date.”

She bites back a sigh and grabs his hand, squeezing it. She hopes it’s enough to make him think that was the right thing to say, that it was romantic and endearing and it made her heart swoon, or whatever is appropriate.

Thankfully, Rich makes a gagging noise and draws everyone’s attention back towards him. “Okay, you two, you’re disgustingly healthy. I’m gonna need you to stop setting the bar so high.”

If he only knew. Though, Rebecca considers, they are healthy. They’re perfect, the perfect couple. He thinks the universe revolves around her and she does love him, but… She shakes her head, ostensibly at Rich, but actually to push that train of thought out of her mind. It doesn’t lead anywhere she should go tonight.

“Tell Mum and Dad I’ll see them Saturday.” 

“They made reservations.”

“I made a promise.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Nolan turn towards her again, but she ignores it. “Besides, they didn’t tell me and reservations can be changed.”

Rich rolls his eyes, but she knows he’s not angry or even annoyed with her. Her brother loves her way too much to let something like changed dinner reservations cause him any negative feelings. And that, she knows for sure, is a mutual love. “Fine, Becks, but you’re on Mum duty Saturday.”

“Deal.” Mum duty was mostly just hanging out with their mother, speaking Thai with her, and answering any questions she had about their careers and their partners. Usually while shopping. Rebecca actually looked forward to having Mum duty most of the time. 

After their agreement, things settle back into the usual routine at the table. Once again, Rebecca drifts, feeling like she’s standing apart from everyone else, watching them go about the motions of their lives. She has creme brulee for dessert because she always has creme brulee for dessert, and as Rich and Nolan argue over the check, she winks at Iris and slides her black card into the billet before handing it to the passing server. 

By the time the two of them settle on splitting it, Rebecca is already signing her name to the check. She looks up at them and grins. “Gotta be faster if you want to show off, boys.”

Once they get through the standard goodbyes and some more of Rich’s teasing, the group separates. Rich and Iris head for the closest tube station while Rebecca and Nolan wait for a cab, huddling under an umbrella to avoid the cold, driving rain. 

Nolan slides his arm around her waist, leaning in, tipping the umbrella slightly so his arm is uncovered. She can smell the wine on his breath, but she knows he’s not drunk. She can’t remember the last time she saw him drunk. When they were teenagers, probably. “Wanna come ‘round to mine, Buttercup?”

Rebecca wants to say no. They’ll go back to his place, watch something on telly, have sex that’s sometimes good and sometimes great, then sleep. She looks at his sparkling blue eyes and tries to decide when she fell out of love with him. The realization makes her sad and she doesn’t want to pass that sadness on to him. They were childhood sweethearts. She’s pretty sure he thinks she’s his soulmate. “Sure. I have kickboxing in the morning, though.”

His whole face lights up when she answers affirmatively, which sends a rush of guilt through her. Is it really such a rare thing? “It’s no problem, you still have workout clothes at mine and I could do with getting up a little early tomorrow. Boss’ll appreciate it.”

She nods and presses up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I guess it’s settled then.” 

“I guess it is.” His happy smile drifts wider, becoming a grin. “Settled.”

Something about the way he emphasizes the word worries Rebecca, a professional at understanding and manipulating the meaning of words, but she decides to ignore it. Dwelling on it would put her right back on the train of thought that she doesn’t want to take. She responds with a non-committal hum. 

When the cab pulls up he opens the door for her, like the gentleman that he is. 

-

There’s a crack in the ceiling above Nolan’s bed and, in the dim light from the street lamps outside, Rebecca can see just enough of it to grab her attention. He’s asleep next to her, snoring gently in a way she used to find soothing and now finds vaguely inconsiderate, even though she knows he doesn’t do it on purpose. 

She had been as right about the night after dinner as she had about dinner itself. They’d gotten back, watched a few episodes of the latest streaming thing everyone’s watching, had sex — tonight was great, she had to admit; Nolan has always known what she likes in bed — and fallen asleep. Well, he had. 

Now she’s staring at the crack in his ceiling. It reminds her of something, but she can’t quite place it. She takes a deep breath and tries to run through a wind down meditation she’d learned to help her fall asleep. It doesn’t work. 

She’s saved from her own mind momentarily by the quiet vibration of her phone. She grabs it and sees a picture from Angie. It’s a tux, which she supposes makes sense. Angie’s never been much of a formal dress sort of person. Another text comes in.

Ang: I’m thinking red for the pocket square. I’m guessing you have a red dress or two?

Rebecca smiles and shakes her head. Next to her, Nolan shifts.

RA: I’m sure I can dig something up.

Ang: Thanks, Boss. I promise we’ll have a blast.

RA: I don’t know what that means, but I’ll take your word for it.

Ang: It means fun, Rebecca. Remember fun?

RA: Vaguely. Now leave me alone, I think I have an early meeting in the morning .

Ang: You don’t, but you have kickboxing at 7a. See you at 9.

RA: Thanks .

She looks at her screen for a few seconds, but she’s not sure why she expects Angie to respond to her last text. Nolan shifts again, dropping his arm over her stomach and trying to pull her close to him. Rebecca puts her phone back on the nightstand and lets him move her smaller body. It’s better than staring at the ceiling.

He whispers some dream gibberish as she snuggles into him. Rebecca really does love Nolan, just not the way she used to or the way he needs. It’s romantic, sure, but not romantic . Could she spend the rest of her life with him? It wouldn’t be a bad life. She sighs, frustrated with herself that she can’t get out of her own head.

“I love you,” she whispers in reply to whatever he’d said to her. It doesn’t matter, really, she’s saying it more for herself than for him. She closes her eyes and tries to will herself to sleep. It doesn’t work, and she spends hours in the dark, listening to Nolan as he breathes, trying to see a way out of the corner she’s backed herself into.