‘Lay it to rest, once and for all,’ he continues. ‘You’ve been tetchy as hell lately. This is your one chance to see him and move on. Once he’s gone, he’s gone. Hopefully for good,’ he adds drily.
I put my bottle to my lips and tilt, deciding to get as drunk as I can in as short a time as possible.
The next day, I’m still mulling over our conversation when I walk into the Tetlan lobby and press the button for the lift. The doors open, I step in – andfreeze.
‘Sorry!’ I exclaim, quickly coming to my senses and moving off to the side as the person behind me crashes into my abruptly halted frame. I breathe in deeply to be sure, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies flutter inside my stomach.
Alex has just been in this lift. I’m sure of it, because I can smell his aftershave. There’s only the faintest trace of musk, but it used to be like catnip to me.
By the time I’ve reached my desk, I’m in pieces. Devastated. I don’t understand how he still has the power to do this to me. Ihaveto lay what happened between us to rest, and, if that means seeing him, then that’s my only option.
I pull out my chair, sit down, and send a text to Lachie, giving him one last chance to back down.
He doesn’t.
‘I’m sure,’ he replies. ‘Good luck.’
I text back that I love him, but don’t get a reply.
Opening up a new email, I type out a brief message to Alex:
Are you here? Want to go for lunch sometime?
He replies within minutes.
Yes and yes. Today?
We agree on 1 p.m., but I shirk his suggestion to meet downstairs in the foyer, naming a coffee shop a few blocks away. If I’m going to see Alex again, I don’t want anyone I know to bear witness to it.
I leave early and walk quickly, hoping to get there first and settle myself in before he appears. But, despite my best efforts, he’s already there, leaning up against the stone wall outside the coffee shop with his feet crossed at the ankles and his attention fixed on his phone screen. His posture reminds me of how he looked on the night we first met, leaning up against a pillar at the eighties club, playingAngry Birdson his phone.
He’s wearing a red-and-black checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up, layered over a white T-shirt with black jeans and black boots. He glances up and instantly clocks me. My stomach does a somersault and his eyes widen.
‘Hi,’ he says, his face breaking into a grin as he stuffs his phone into his back pocket.
‘Hey.’ I force a smile in return, but my insides are going haywire as I come to a stop two feet in front of him.
He’s suddenly awkward, not knowing how to greet me. I make the decision for both of us, stepping forward to give him the briefest of hugs. His hands only just touch my back before I retreat, but there’s time enough for his catnip to hit me, full force.
‘I hope they have a table,’ I mumble, blushing as I turn away to push the door open. I’m hyper-aware of his proximity as he follows me inside.
There’s a table right at the back and I brace myself as I sit down and come face to face with him again.
He rakes a hand through his dark hair to push it back from his forehead and then rests his elbows on the table between us.
He hasn’t changed a bit.
‘How are you?’ he asks, studying me. His eyes are ocean blue, several shades darker than Lachie’s.
‘Really well, thanks,’ I reply, reaching for the salt shaker to play with. I’m nervous. ‘You?’
‘Good.’
I lie. Hehaschanged. The lines at the corners of his eyes are deeper than they once were, and now there’s a hint of grey in the hair at his temples. He must be thirty-six – two years older than I am.
‘Let’s order and then we can chat,’ I decide, picking up the menu.
‘What do you usually go for?’ he asks, his eyes levelling mine over the top of our menus.
