She’s not wrong. It’s impossible to explain here in this elegant bistro, elegant food on elegant plates, and the muted conversation of other elegant diners. Dancing in muddy Wellies seems like a distant dream.
By the time we’re ready to leave, a quick look at my phone shows the time a little past midnight. I swapped back to my European phone, when I got here on Saturday night.
“Will you at least walk me home?” Janey asks when we pause on the pavement.
“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you walk home alone at this hour?”
She laughs taking my arm, and we start walking. Her apartment, as it turns out, is a long way from my hotel and by the time we get there, it’s very late indeed and there’s a light drizzle.
“You can’t walk all the way in this. You’re welcome to my sofa.” She offers, digging for keys in her handbag.
“But it really will have to be the sofa.” I say carefully.
“If that’s what you want.”
I hate hurting her feelings, Janey doesn’t deserve my being so cold, but how can I explain? So, when she suggests a night cap upstairs, I accept because it’ll help end the night on a friendlier note.
I’m an idiot, of course, and have had far too much alcohol.
The two large brandies Janey serves me do not help clear my head. I just sink more comfortably into the sofa and try to remember why this is a bad idea. A return to my life, the performances, the friends, the busy nights, it’s all so familiar, I can feel it drawing me back. Even mentioning Liam in this room feels like an alien subject that no one would understand.
Janey moves to sit beside me and pours me another brandy. “I’ve been thinking, next season, why don’t you move in with me? This apartment is big enough. And we’re very close to the concert hall.”
“Slow down, Janey.” I laugh and somehow sink deeper into the sofa. “I haven’t got the job yet.”
She snuggles against my side. “As if this is in any doubt.”
“Itisin doubt. I’m not the only one applying and I’ve seen the list. Baigent. Lindhurst. Guttenplann. They are all exceptional oboists.”
“You are better.” She puts a hand on my thigh, and I feel too relaxed to stop her.
Her hand starts moving. This is a bad idea. I know it’s a bad idea, I just can’t remember why. I’ve already given celibacy seven months, isn’t this close enough to a year?
“It’s strange.”
Janey stops caressing my leg. “What’s strange?”
“I spent seven months away, but it all feels like a weekend. It feels as if I never left, never changed.”
“I’m glad.” She moves to straddle me, a hand on my shirt buttons, when my phone rings in my pocket. The vibration against my hip is a real mood killer.
This is one thing thathaschanged. I am no longer used to my phone ringing at all hours.
“Ignore it.” Janey nuzzles my neck but the phone is very annoying.
I take it out and try to reject the call but my finger slips and touches the speaker icon.
“Hello? Is this Brandon Hazelwood?” says a heavily accented voice. “This is Anke Schmidt at the Hilton Hotel.”
“Just leave it.” Janey whispers, nipping lightly at my earlobe with her teeth.
Chapter Thirty-three
Lessa
I open my eyes.
The world is white. Am I dreaming about snow?
