We end up in the bar nearest my building and a favourite of ours, The Rensley Arms. I didn’t even want to come out tonight, so there was no way I was going to a club.
Elliot sits back in his seat as he sets four beers down in front of us. “Cheer up, mate,” he jibes.
I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “Do you guys think I should reach out to her? She was nearly crying when she left.”
I get the image of her in my foyer with her shoes clutched in her hands. God, she was so upset. That look on her face. It’s all I’m able to think about.
“Why don’t you go to her building and apologise?” Charlie suggests.
“I don’t know what number her flat is. We didn’t even make it inside.” I shake my head, thinking about the way I reacted to her dickhead friend. He deserved the broken nose. He would’ve hit Nina if I hadn’t moved her out of the way.
“Hasn’t ever stopped you before.” Elliot raises his brow suggestively. “Just get Vinny on it.”
I’ve already thought about this. Vinny is my driver and is ex-special forces. He knows the right people and would get me everything I need on her within the hour.
It just doesn’t feel right.
“I don’t want to invade her privacy. It’s not how I want to do this.”
Charlie makes a point of looking at me, nodding his head as if he’s impressed. I roll my eyes, taking a sip of beer.
“Shit, Mase, you really have it bad for this girl?” Sullivan’s staring at me like I’ve grown two heads. They aren’t used to me giving a shit.
Why do I give a shit?
“I barely know her! These pair of idiots wanted to play matchmaker, I all but called her a prostitute, and now I’ve managed to get on her shit list.”
Elliot raises his glass in a toast. “To Pixies, Prostitutes and getting on their Shit Lists.”
I glare at him. I might kill him.
Feeling defeated—knowing I have to speak with her and see that she is okay—I look to Charlie, seeking his approval. “I can’t look her up, can I?” I ask.
He shrugs, a grim expression on his face as he squeezes my shoulder. “I don’t know what other option you’ve got, mate.”
I scrub my hands over my face before pulling out my phone, and then I send Vinny a text with all the details I have.
My phone rings instantly.
“I’m out,” I tell him.
“You haven’t given me a lot to go on here, Mase. How much do you want to know?”
I look to the boys, all of them watching me with intense looks on their faces, and I know I shouldn’t ask for it, I know it’s wrong, but a mixture of relief and excitement settles in my gut as I say, “Everything.”
FOUR
Nina
Igroan as I push open the door to the gym, nausea crawling up my throat as my stomach turns from the sheer weight of it. And probably the wine I drank last night. I came home from lunch at Maggie and John’s with a bottle of wine and the other half of the banoffee pie I’d made. Rarely am I late for work, but today, I feel horrific.
Water bottle in hand, I start to weave through the throngs of people and equipment. I chose a shit time to come in today. The gym is packed with everyone rushing to get their workout done in their lunch hour. I catch Logan’s eye as I’m passing the treadmills, and he gestures for me to wait a minute while he finishes up with his client.
Oh, not today, please.
I trudge to the main desk, sinking into the chair as a layer of sweat forms on my hairline.
God, I feel awful.
