He shook his head. “No. I’m miserable, to be honest. I’ve sent her a couple of messages but she hasn’t replied. I think she’s moved on.”
“Maybe,” I said honestly. “You haven’t seen each other for a while.” I had an idea, a glimmer of one, one that could also go horrendously wrong. “Are you busy Friday night?”
“Why?” he said, which was exactly the question I would’ve asked.
“There’s a gig on at Cases in Soho, some band Owen’s friends with, and Dot’s going as a guest rather than working. How about I set you up on a blind date?” The pastry I’d ordered landed in front of me, delivered with a beaming smile from Amelie.
“How can it be a blind date if I know who I’m meeting?”
I rolled my eyes. I knew him well enough by now to not need my filters. “Blind for Dot. Let me work on her. She’ll agree. At least that’ll give you chance to talk, which it seems you’ve not been able to do.”
He nodded. “I get it. What if she storms out and won’t talk?”
“Then that’s over to you. But you’ll be in a big area with people that she knows, so she’s unlikely to cause a scene.” Which I knew she was perfectly capable of doing. I’d seen her in action once when Owen had pushed it a bit too far with how he’d criticised Dave. Dot was no longer talking about Dave and wouldn’t entertain any criticism of him either, which was interesting and I had a feeling that if we could just get the two of them together, she might reconsider their relationship.
He nodded. “I’ll try anything. And I’d just like to see her again, you know? Let me know if she refuses.”
“She won’t,” I said. “I’m still new enough and she’s trying to be as nice as she can to her son’s new girlfriend, that if I ask her she won’t say no.”
“That’s very manipulative.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
He laughed. “True. How well are you doing with manipulating Owen?”
It was my turn to laugh. Owen wasn’t someone who could be manipulated. He could be persuaded and was keen to always try to understand my feelings but the moment I tried to sway him through some deceptive means, he would fold his arms and raise his right eyebrow. He was my safe space. “Not very. The man knows his own mind too well. Something I wouldn’t change.”
“He’s a good man,” Dave said. “I was worried he’d stay with his ex when she clearly wasn’t right for him. They were really good friends but were together because it was easy and they looked the part.”
“Amber?” I said. I’d heard bits about her, seen the odd photo of a beautiful woman with him on holiday and at a formal dinner. They’d been together since Owen had done his Master’s degree, both studying business and computer programming. She’d become some high-tech app developer acting as a consultant and they could’ve been a power couple, but Owen said it just wasn’t there. She’d come home from work one day and told him she’d met someone else and they were better off as friends. He’d agreed. No argument. No row. And they’d parted ways.
“Amber,” he said. “She was a nice girl but she didn’t make his eyes light up like they do when he’s with you. When you met us at that restaurant last week, his whole face beamed when you came over. It was good to see.”
I smiled, feeling reassured.
* * *
My day at work was fairly light, which was a relief given how busy Monday and Tuesday had been. Monday had involved a full day in court while Tuesday had been a mediation that had gone on for over fourteen hours. Fortunately, the resolution was favourable to us, so that sweetened the fatigue I’d felt going home. I hadn’t seen Owen since Monday morning and it felt like too long already. I swung by Amelie’s and picked up the biggest sub she made and headed over to Cases at St Paul’s, knowing he was using the office there to answer emails and deal with an issue caused by one of the distributors.
It was June and warm, which seemed to make everyone more relaxed and less impatient to get where they were meant to be. Around the St Paul’s area were businesses, with fewer tourist attractions other than the bijoux shops and stores. I loved my city when it was like this, relaxed with that hint of a buzz of excitement.
Cases had its doors open, the scent of coffee wafting down as soon as I entered. I mooched about, looking at the just released and bestsellers, debating picking something up to read this weekend as for once, my diary wasn’t packed, and then I saw Owen.
Spending four or five nights a week together had become the norm. We stayed in, watched Netflix and binge-watched different box sets, took trips out to see parts of London neither of us had explored and ate out. We saw my siblings and his friends and we’d found what was our happy place. But neither of us had put a label on it. In bed, he was dominant, playing my body like he played his guitar; he knew exactly what to press, to pluck, how hard or how soft and he’d tell me I was his, using all his dirty words and sometimes toys.
But we’d not called ourselves anything. No one had declared exclusivity and we hadn’t been out on what either of us had termed a ‘date’.
So when I saw him sitting at a table with a brunette with long curly hair and legs that looked like they went on for months, never mind days, my chest exploded into my mouth. He was leaning across towards her, talking animatedly and smiling in broadly. It was what I’d termed ‘full charm mode’ but the brunette was interpreting it as flirting. She toyed with her hair then reached for his arm, her finger sliding up his forearm.
My lips began to throb from biting them that hard. Owen hadn’t noticed me and I’d slunk behind a bookcase so I could watch without being noticed. I felt like I was about to have a heart attack; the blood was pumping around my body so hard my ears were throbbing. I didn’t know what to do. Had I seen any of my exes like this I’d have walked away and said nothing, calling the end there and then, but I couldn’t read this. I pulled my phone out of my purse and snapped a photo, sending it to Ava. Apart from being flighty and sometimes downright weird, she was practical and level-headed when it came to men and relationships.
My phone rang twenty seconds later. “Okay, is he still with her?”
“Yes,” I said. “I don’t know what to do.”
“But you haven’t walked out of there so you must want to do something. Is he touching her at all?”
“No, and when she tried to touch his arm he moved away. Not quickly but subtly. Ava, what do I do?” I said, hearing desperation in my voice.
