"No, but it makes sense. You've built a good team. Really, I'm proud of you. You deserve it and I would've been a bigger bastard than I've been already if I'd fought you for it. Is there anything besides the picture you want from the apartment? You furnished it, I seem to remember."
I sipped the wine, now needing it to stop myself from fainting in shock. Richard was proud of me? "Why don't you see what you don't want to keep. I'm sure you need to refurnish it yourself for a new start. You don't want to be reminded of me when you look round and I'm sure your new girlfriend would rather have it her way."
His eyes said it all, shifting away from me, unable to meet mine. "I'll text you the photos of the things I don't want. Yes, she would like to get an interior decorator in soon. She's glad I'm buying you out of the apartment. Have a think. Anything you want, let me know. I've been enough of an idiot. I want to blame it on the drink as it's become a bit of a problem, but there might be more to it than that." He stood up, clearly intending to leave. This had been as painful for him as it had been for me. "Is there anything else you want, Vanessa."
I shook my head, standing too. "I wish you all the best, Richard and I hope you find what you really want."
The smile he conjured was weak and regretful. "You know what was the saddest? I wish the baby had been mine. At least something they would have belonged to me."
His words knifed me. I felt a wrench of sadness for him and an avalanche of guilt as I had never been able to give him what he needed: an identity as something other than his father's son. Logic told me that there was no guilt needed; we weren't right together and both of us took something that we needed from it during the course of those years, then found the rest in other things. "Maybe you'll get that from your current relationship," I offered, knowing it wasn't what he wanted to hear, knowing that some part of him probably still wanted me to offer myself to him on a platter.
"Maybe. I hope you'll be happy with the business and whatever apartment you get yourself, Nessa. I'll keep watching for how you're doing and I'll take some pride in knowing that at least I got you started and up the first few rungs of the ladder. Remember – it's who you know that keeps doors open." He leaned across and patted my cheek with his fingertips, a gesture I had once found affectionate but now found it patronizing, just like his comments.
I nodded and watched him leave, sipping on the rest of my wine.
"Here, have another," Simone snuck up behind me, holding two glasses. She took Richard's seat. "That went better than I expected..." Then she stopped talking as my tears started. "What the fuck, Van? What did he say? Do I need to call the police? Jackson?"
I shook my head, covering my face with my hands. "No. I'm just. Just..." I didn't know, there were no words.
"Relieved you can finish grieving? Feeling guilty because on some level you failed? Analysing what he did do for you and wondering if you used him? Been there with all of that and have it tattooed on me somewhere, never mind the fucking t-shirt," she said, then took a long mouthful of wine.
I rubbed at my eyes, seeing mascara streaking my hands. I knew I looked a wet mess of tears and make-up. "All of that. He was nice, I felt sorry for him..."
"Don't." Her eyes blazed. "Don't feel sorry for him. He can more than do that for himself. It's over. He's out of your life and you've just said a final goodbye. That's why you're sad and you'll be a bit scared because you've got nothing holding you back now, which can feel like diving off a cliff with a parachute you haven't checked."
"I'll be checking it. At least twice. Then Alice will give it the once over too." The beautifully pressed cotton napkin was now being used to wipe my face. All the airs and polite manners that spending years in Richard's circle were now wiped out. "He said he helped get me up the first few rungs of the ladder – that he opened doors for me." This was what hurt the most, the notion that maybe I did owe him that. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be about to become the majority shareholder in my own firm.
She shook her head. "You got there yourself. Yes, you had a bit of luck because an opportunity was presented to you, but you took it and made it work and that wasn't luck – it was talent and hard fucking work. I couldn't have opened my first restaurant without the sleeping partner, but he would've had nothing to invest in if it wasn't for my vision and skill. Fuck him, Van. Celebrate what you've achieved for once."
I grabbed her hand across the table and squeezed. "Thank you, Simone. You've been a rock. Even though it was you hiring me."
Simone tapped my fingers. "It's all been a pleasure, and like I've said, there's always a table for you and that rather delicious man you're keeping company with. Where is he tonight?"
"Poker night with his brothers. I'm staying at Sophie's tonight. We're being beautified at one of her spas on Thursday evening. If you can grab an hour or two away, you should join us."
"Pending no one calling in sick or my chef throwing a strop, I'll take you up on that. Text me the details and I'll let you know tomorrow lunchtime." She picked up her glass and held it out to toast me. "Kitchen calls, but here's to the next phase in your life, ma Cherie Vanessa. Now, why don't you surprise your man? I'm sure he won't mind you lying naked in his bed while he tries to concentrate on poker."
"I might just do that." And all of a sudden, like being hit by a sudden virus, I wanted Jackson, craved the feeling of him being near me, next to me. I wanted the comfort he could give me and the way he made me fly.
Simone headed off into chef-land and I took my phone from my bag.
Me:How's poker?
I didn't expect him to reply quickly, especially if he was in the middle of a game, but the dots appeared on my screen, indicating a response was being written.
Jackson:I'm out. Seph and Killian are battling it out and it's getting sweary. I think Seph will be in late tomorrow given how much whiskey he's put away.
Me:Is he okay though?
I knew Jackson was worried still about Seph, although he'd been better since Payton had been back. He'd struggled at the funeral for Amelie's father last Friday and had gone home alone, locking himself away for more than a day. I hadn't attended the funeral; I sent Amelie flowers after, pretty peonies and hydrangeas, but it hadn't seemed appropriate given the length of time I'd know her.
Jackson:He's in good spirits, probably because of the good spirit in him. My most expensive Scotch. How are you? I miss your perfume.
Me:I'm okay. It's been a weird evening. Just my perfume?
Jackson:I'm used to it wafting through the house. Why's it been weird?
Vanessa:I met Richard. It was okay, he wasn't a dick, which was weird in itself. It'll be the last time I see him.
