“Hey, Lola.”
I turn to face Skyler and only just manage to catch the apple she throws my way.
“Tell me more about this apple plan of yours.”
The tension drains from my shoulders, grateful for the out she’s offering. I rejoin Skyler on our makeshift picnic blanket and tell her about my business plan. The key to the whole thing is convincing an orchard to sell me their bruised and unsellable stock for dirt cheap. The apples are peeled before being made into fries and as we need to cut them up anyway it will be easy to avoid the bruised sections.
“The local apple orchard is owned by Jarred North. His mom runs the Heart Home Foundation and his brother, Huxley, was in my year at school,” I tell Skyler. “I’m going to go visit him tomorrow to pitch my idea and if he likes it, we’ll be golden.”
Skyler gives a strong nod. “He’ll like it. It’s a good plan with no downside for him. And it will help stop food waste.”
“That’s the idea.”
Skyler picks up the bottle of champagne and pours us both another mug (she hadn’t wanted to risk bringing champagne glasses). She lifts her mug up. “To coffee shops, apple fries, and complicated love lives.”
I grin and clink my mug against hers. “To apple fries and coffee shops and new friends who have no boundaries.”
Skyler laughs. “Ah, the best kind.”
Chapter Eight
Roman
So, you’re going back to him?
He’s Oscar’s father, Roman.
What about us?
There hasn’t been an us for a long time.
- Conversation between Roman, age 26 and Kelsey, age 23
By the timeI get home I’ve got five voicemails from Mase and one each from Shaun and Pippa. I slip my phone back into my pocket, still too angry at how they treated Lola to deal with them yet.
I press the panel by the door, turning on the large, bronze, hanging light in the center of the stables. Technically, since Jarred helped me convert it, the place isn’t exactly stables anymore but we all still call it that.
The design is open plan with the exposed beams in the ceiling giving it that rustic country feel I love. I filled the whole placewith plants on every surface and ivy plants climbing the corners. It’s so different to the polished marble and glass walls I grew up with and usually nothing feels better than coming home. Tonight though, I’d rather just be with Lola. It went against all my instincts to leave her there, but staying was too dangerous.
My phone buzzes again as I untie my boots and place them on the shoe rack. I’m expecting it to be Mase but it’s my father’s name that flashes up on screen. I clench my keys in my hand. I’m tempted to ignore it but while he never has the time for me, he gets pissed if I don’t make time for him, so I hang the keys on the hook by the door and answer.
“Dad.”
“Have you decided?”
So much for the pleasantries. I walk over to the open plan kitchen and lean back against the island. “I emailed Lucy.”
“Who?” My father’s voice is distant, like always. He’s no doubt doing two other things while talking to me.
“Lucy. Your PA.”
The tapping of a keyboard echoes down the line. “What? Oh, no. I let her go.”
Translation: he slept with her.
“It’s Suzie now, or Sarah.”
Disgust steeps the back of my throat. I put my phone on speaker and place it on the island so I can grab a drink. He won’t ever learn her name and she’ll be ‘let go’ within the next six months.
