“She’s posted a photo of her and Carter!” Harriet almost knocked my Long Island Iced Tea over.
There was a scramble while Erin and Fallon reached their necks over like two deformed giraffes to see what it was. I just used my own phone and found her Instagram account.
It was a selfie taken outside a shop near Leicester Square, I knew exactly which shop it was. They stood shoulder to shoulder, her head leaning against Carter, a big beaming smile on her face, with the captionNew beginnings in a new city with my new people. Looking forward to sharing all the stories with you over the next few weeks #silversmithslondon.
I studied Carter’s face. He was smiling, a scarf wrapped around his neck, but his jacket was undone, and he was focused on the selfie, posing for it so it was difficult to work out what he might’ve been thinking.
“I credited Carter with more sense.” Erin looked away first. “What he did was wrong. He should’ve told you about Laurieand whatever’s going on before he kissed you. That’s really confusing.”
“Do you think there is anything between them apart from friends?” Fallon was still looking at the picture. “I’ve had my arm round Carter like that loads of times.”
“Usually when your heel had broken off your shoe. I’m sure that happened at least twice in two weeks one summer.” Erin was now more interested in her champagne. “He’s fucked up, no doubt, but he’s one of the good ones, so let’s not write him off now. Not after nearly twenty years of him being an honorary heart sister.”
I smiled at the name we’d given ourselves after we’d first met and all survived – it had been touch and go a few times with Fallon. Carter had found out from his dad when we’d have our appointments and would come and see us after school. We’d played board games together and talked and read, and then Fallon had crushed on his friend and made it awkward for a bit, but we got over it like kids did.
“There’s no point filling the blanks with information we haven’t got,” I said, something I would state to my clients when they were overthinking. “We don’t know if they’ve dated, if they’re just friends – you know, he could’ve put the money up for her shop - ”
I was rudely interrupted by Fallon who was now on her own phone. “No. Laurie wouldn’t need him to invest. She’s part of the Silver family from New York and they are loaded – I’ve found photos of her with a boyfriend, and that’s definitely a boyfriend. Look.” She waved the phone in front of me, flashing a photo of Laurie with a man who was the dictionary definition of tall, dark and handsome. “He was some hotshot entrepreneur but they’re definitely not together anymore because he has a new woman, or did. The photos of them have stopped, in fact, he’s not postedanything since September. Looks like he got together with new girl in July. He was definitely with Laurie in May. Fast mover.”
“Sounds like he needs to be avoided. Is he American like her?” I had no idea why I wanted this information as it didn’t matter. My psychologist’s head was kicking in now.
“No. English. He’s thirty-five and based in London – I thought he looked familiar.” Fallon frowned as she scrolled online probably stalking his Instagram account.
“Please tell me you haven’t been on a date with him?” Harriet said, back studying her programme.
“No, pretty sure I haven’t. There are comments on her post – fuck, someone – Alison M nine six three – has said ‘what a lovely couple’. Shit. I’m sorry, Rose. I’ll put laxatives in his lunch next time I’m on shift with him.” That was a tame threat from Fallon.
“Alison M nine six three might be jumping to conclusions. I think we need to give Carter some credit – he’s never not been transparent before. There must be a credible reason why he’s kept it quiet.” I knew I was defending him, but I was trying to stick with what I knew. Keep with the facts, don’t fill in the blanks with supposition.
Fallon put her phone down and looked at me. “He didn’t contact you for the four months before he moved back to London, and didn’t tell you he was moving back. He’s been keeping something from you on purpose, Rose.”
“Maybe. But it’s not necessarily that he has a girlfriend. And I said something to him that changed things back at the beginning of September.” I told them about it again, trying to remember more of the conversation from then, more about his reactions, but none of what I said was accepted by the rest as a defence.
I slipped off to the bathroom after we’d eaten the first few plates of our tapas, needing a few minutes without any noise. Sitting down on the lid, I looked at my phone, staring at the Carter’s messages, still unresponded to.
Is Laurie your girlfriend? Why didn’t you tell me before?
Delete.
Why didn’t you speak to me in the autumn? Were you worried about upsetting me because you thought I wanted more from you than friends?
Delete.
Do you regret the kiss on Friday?
Delete. Delete. Delete.
I stared at the screen, resisting the urge to go and look at Laurie’s post again and read the comments that others had left. I didn’t like how my friends were berating Carter, even though I understood why. I remember Friday and the kiss, London behind us, the night cold but I didn’t feel it. I’d been so nervously happy to see him, dopamine booming from just being with Carter again, and now I was confused.
Upset.
I wasn’t in the era for more heartbreak. I was ready for a strong girl summer where men didn’t even flicker on my radar. A summer of owning my career and making the most of free time with my friends and family, maybe spending time in Oxford with the grandparents or even going to Spain to see my maternal grandmother. Not pining after Carter.
I’d never pined over Carter. I wasn’t going to start doing that now.
“Rose. Rose – are you in there?”
Harriet was floating around the toilets like a ghost. I pushed open the cubicle door and she slipped in, closing the door behind her.
