“I was just telling Richard how I knew you. From the foster placement. A lifetime ago.”
He nods.
“Lucy could be perfect for what we were talking about earlier, a face like hers and—”
“Richard,” Owen interrupts, his tone firm. “No. We aren’t having this conversation now. That isn’t what we are about here.”
Richard holds his hands up and claps Owen on the back, laughing. “I know, I know. But come on, she’s stunning.”
“I’m sorry?” I shake my head.Did I hear that right?It’s my turn to frown; I’m not a piece of meat. Owen places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I glance up, and his eyes flick to my hand.
I’ve picked up the knife that was next to my hand subconsciously. I mean, it’s only a butter knife. But I could still kill him with it. I drop it and nod my head down, trying desperately to hide my smirk.
“Well, you two enjoy your dinner. I’m really looking forward to learning more about Lucy at our next catch-up, Owen.” He sticks his hand out, and Owen reluctantly takes it.
“What a bellend,” he mutters as he pulls the chair out next to me and sits down. “A butter knife, really? At least wait for the steak knife to come out.”
“You’d be surprised what you can do with a butter knife. Just the right angle, the thickness of it would work perfectly to scoop out one of the fucktard’s wandering eyeballs.”
Owen laughs. “That’s savage. What happened to the little girl with the teddy bear?”
“She’s long gone.”
People join us at the table, but we are completely oblivious to anything that is going on around us.
“You’re now some high flying…security detail?”
I shrug. “Girl’s gotta eat. So, tell me, when’s your big speech?” I change the subject, peering behind Owen and smiling at the person who has pulled out their chair to join us at the table.
“You’ve got really good at deflecting questions and changing the subject. You ever thought about becoming a politician?”
“Nah. I’m too corrupt for that…but hang on a minute…”
“Lucy,” he warns quietly.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Why do I feel you’re judging me whenever you look at me?”
“Not judging,” he replies, repeating the exact thing I just did and nodding to whoever the hell is behind me. “Just trying to figure you out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. I’m an open book.” I lean back in the chair and allow the server who has appeared to my right to fill up my water.
“You’re a copy of Oh Là Là in a Sports Almanac cover.”
“Back to the Futurereference. How cute.” I smirk. It was one of our favourite films as kids.
“Red or white?” the server asks.
“Can I have some sparkling water, please?” I respond.
“Red, please,” Owen replies, and we wait patiently for our drinks to be filled up.
“Owen.” A women’s voice interrupts our awkward silence, and he pulls his scrutinising gaze from me,thank fuck, looking to the lady a few seats down. “You must share with us how you two met? Honestly, that reunion was so lovely.”
I peer round Owen and smile.
Oh Jesus. This is going to be exhausting. On goes the mask again, the coy smile, the tucking the hair behind my ear. The little glances. The giggles.
