‘I don’t want it to, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either. Let it go, Rosie.’
‘OK.’ She looks a little hurt. ‘I was just trying to help.’
‘I know you were,’ I tell her, softening my tone. ‘And I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m just feeling a bit raw at the moment.’
‘I still vote we sue the shit out of Gabriel,’ Priya says. ‘Imagine the scene. He’s sitting at the piano stool, basking in rapturous applause for whatever wanky piece he’s just played. And then a runner comes onto the stage with a letter informing him of pending legal action against him. That would wipe the smile off the fucker’s face, don’t you think?’
I smile, despite myself. ‘It is a nice mental image,’ I admit.
‘Do you know what I think we need?’ Rosie asks. ‘I think we need to drown your sorrows.’
‘Uh-oh,’ Priya says. ‘I think I can tell where this is going.’
‘Yup. I’m thinking carb and fruit overload, with a film to go with.’
‘I assume the fruit is going to be grapes?’ Priya remarks.
‘Fermented grapes, yes,’ Rosie tells her. ‘Mainly of the Pinot Grigio variety. And huge pizzas from the takeaway down the road. We could watchPretty Woman. We haven’t seen that in ages.’
‘NotPretty Woman,’ I tell her firmly. ‘I think Gabriel has probably ruined that film forever. No, I need something where someone spends the whole film blowing shit up and beating the crap out of the bad guys. I can imagine at least one of them as Harvey, another as Gabriel, and that will undoubtedly help. What’s that Liam Neeson one where he threatens the kidnappers?’
‘Taken.’ Priya grins. ‘If we can’t sue Gabriel, maybe we could pull a Liam Neeson on him. “If you get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness, Gabriel, I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will find you and I will kill you.”’
I laugh. ‘That won’t get me into trouble at all. Anyway, maybe not that one, but something similar.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ Rosie says happily. ‘Actually, it’s Netflix’s command, but you know what I mean. Are you in, Priya?’
‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.’
‘That was perfect, thank you,’ I say to Rosie as we’re tipsily clearing up late that night. I’m not quite sure how much I’ve had to drink as my glass seemed to magically refill itself every time I put it down. I am, however, fairly sure that Rosie and Priya must have matched my intake, as Rosie is definitely on the wobbly side and Priya pretty much fell into her Uber. ‘I suspect I’ll regret it in the morning though.’
‘Nah,’ Rosie assures me with a lopsided grin. ‘The pizza will soak up all the alcohol. That’s a thing, right?’
‘I’m not sure it is, but I like your thinking.’
‘Good choice of film, by the way. Who can fail to be cheered up by Keanu Reeves?’
After a lot of debate, we’d eventually settled onJohn Wick 4, which had successfully pushed both Gabriel and Harvey out of my head for a couple of hours, and I’m doing my best to keep them out, although my alcohol-sozzled brain isn’t doing a terribly good job. As I start to get ready for bed, I glance at my watch to see that it’s just gone midnight. Boston is five hours behind London – I know because I looked it up earlier – which means it will be just after 7p.m. there. Gabriel will be in his dressing room, I expect, sipping on his sparkling water. Is he thinking of me, I wonder? Does he have any remorse for the way he treated me? He ought to, given that he’s supposedly a man of faith. It’s just so confusing. I really want to hate him and move on, but I can’t hate the person he was before Harvey turned up. Is he really so compartmentalised that he can simply turn off the charming Gabriel that I was falling for when his career comes knocking?
The tears start to fall as I’m brushing my teeth. Shit. I really thought I was doing better after a week, but the truth is that I still miss Gabriel terribly and I just can’t understand why he would have behaved the way he did.
‘Come on, Tori,’ I tell my reflection sternly. ‘Let him go. It wasn’t meant to be.’
The problem is that he’s done far more than get under my skin now and, despite my best efforts, I still don’t really believe we didn’t have a future. The wine that buoyed me up earlier has now turned against me, as my mood is now plummeting towards rock bottom. I turn off the light and crawl into bed, burying my head in the pillow so Rosie can’t hear me sobbing.
33
Another freezing Monday morning, but I finally feel after three weeks that I’m starting to turn the corner and get my shit together. I’ve got a meeting with an HR manager at one of the companies we do a lot of work for at 9.30, so I head straight for Canary Wharf rather than the office. Although it’s bitterly cold, at least it’s not raining. In fact, there are even glimpses of the sun through the clouds as I exit the station. I do like being here; there’s an energy about the place that sucks you in. People are walking quickly, talking on their phones or texting as they go. I take a moment to enjoy the sheer pointlessness of the six public clocks in the Reuters Plaza before heading inside. When I first saw them, I assumed they were showing the times in different parts of the world, like you often see in the offices of multinational companies, and I’m ashamed to admit that it wasn’t until my third or fourth visit that I noticed they were all telling the same time.
Shirley, the woman I’m here to meet, is waiting in reception. ‘Tori,’ she says warmly, extending her hand as I approach. ‘Thank you so much for sparing the time to see me.’
‘Always a pleasure, Shirley,’ I tell her, pleased by my ability to switch into professional mode. My personal life may be a mess, but at least I’m still good at this.
‘I’ve booked us one of the guest meeting rooms,’ she explains as she leads me across the lobby. ‘It saves us from having to get you a security pass and all the other nonsense. Sorry, I’m forgetting my manners. Do you want a coffee or anything before we start?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, Shirley. I had one on the way over.’
‘Excellent.’ She holds her pass against a pad, and the meeting room door unlocks with a beep and a soft click. The room itself is typical of its type. There’s a table in the middle with rather ugly grey plastic and chrome chairs around it that probably cost a fortune, and a massive TV screen at one end. We sit down opposite each other, and I pull out my notepad.
