And help him be the friend EJ needed.
Nerves slicked EJ’s palms, forcing her to wipe them on her dress as the waiter led them to their table. Was Jordan here yet? She really needed him. She hadn’t told Eric she’d invited Jordan, not wanting any more of those fireworks that had greeted her birthday on Bondi Beach.
“Here you are, miss.” The waiter helped EJ with her chair.
“Thanks,” she murmured as the other guests for tonight’s final pitch were seated.
She bet Eric wouldn’t be pleased that she’d asked Jordan. But how could she not, when Dream Match was basically his baby too? She had to tread carefully. Everything felt so fragile, like she could slip and make a mess, and then where would Dream Match be?
She knew it wouldn’t take much for Eric to turn against her, to encourage his investment partners to walk away. It felt like she was being carried along on a sea of falseness, fakeness, just like Jordan had accused her. Which was why she wanted—needed—Jordan here, so she could have an anchor to something real.
Truth might sting at times, but at least it was honest. Flattery was lovely, but it wasn’t real. Flattery felt like a house of cards, one breath and it would all tumble down. These people, these so-called relationships, felt much the same. She glanced around, as panic rose. Oh, where was Jordan?
Their table was positioned near the window, allowing a grand view of the city skyline lit up in the night. Outside, pedestrians walked past, taking pictures of the Harbour Bridge and occasionally looking in enviously at where they sat in the expensive surrounds of Bennelong. Just like she always had. The have-nots looking at those who have.
She sipped her mocktail, knowing she had to keep a clear head, and kept scanning the pedestrians in case Jordan was outside. Would he know where to go? Of course he would. He’d been here before, just not to the restaurant part.
“EJ, are you looking for someone?” Eric asked.
Crunch time. “Actually, I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Jordan to come tonight too.”
“What?” Gwen asked.
EJ frowned. Why would Gwen have a problem with that? Tonight wasn’t her shindig; it was Eric’s. Wasn’t it?
She straightened her shoulders. “Jordan is the cocreator of Dream Match, and it’s only right that he comes to hear what you have to say tonight.”
“But I thought you two weren’t talking to each other.”
“He forgave me,” she said simply.
“Heforgaveyou?” Gwen coughed. “I think you’re forgetting how rude he was to you last weekend. The one who should be doing any forgiving is you. And us, seeing as Jordan was rude to both of us, and wrecked Eric’s do.” She placed a hand on Eric’s arm, which twitched. Subtle, but it was there.
Weird. And weirder too, considering Eric had constantly said last week was EJ’s party. Not his. She shook her head. She was obviously feeling highly strung to be overly sensitive like this. “I was the one who didn’t treat him well. But because he’s a good man, he’s decided to let that stay in the past and come tonight.”
She caught the way Gwen and Eric looked at each other. It was only there for a second; then they both resumed theirexpressions. But it was enough to make her wonder if something else was going on.
Eric inclined his chin. “I suppose now that Jordan is coming, we’ll have to ask for a bigger table.” He nodded to a passing waiter and made that request.
The server’s eyes rounded, and he murmured something she didn’t quite pick up. But the waiter couldn’t very well argue with Eric Churchill. Nobody could argue very well with Eric Churchill. Which was exactly why EJ needed someone with her tonight who could argue with Eric Churchill. And the fact she recognised and could admit that Jordan could do something she couldn’t, for once did not make her feel like she’d failed as a strong and savvy businesswoman. Just made her glad he was on her side. She hoped.
“You really should’ve mentioned about Jordan coming earlier,” Gwen murmured.
EJ nodded. But she remained stubbornly glad she hadn’t.
She picked at the bread roll as the waitstaff quickly addressed their table situation, adding a square table at one end.
Eric thanked them then turned to her. “Happy now?”
“Thank you.”
He studied her a moment, then nodded and drank the rest of his wine before ordering another bottle.
Oh. It was going to be one of those nights, was it?
She contrasted Eric’s constant drinking with the fact Jordan barely drank at all. Another way the men differed.
She inched away from where Eric’s arm lay along the back of her seat, his fingers toying with the strap of her dress. She was sorely tempted to put the leather jacket back on, but even that felt like giving into what Eric wanted. Maybe she’d need to give the jacket back. Her heart panged because she really liked it. It was so comfortable and soft. Or maybe she’d give it to Harriet.
