“Do you like him?” I choose not to answer, so Roshni does for me. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Just catching a glimpse of him the other day gave me my first ever redheaded sexual awakening.”
“Okay, let’s relax for a second.”
“I just don’t see anything wrong with you dating him. Liam is attractive, he’s nice, and he’s a billion times more normal than the first freak you met up with. Don’t even try to tell me that you’re not attracted to him.”
All Roshni’s arguments are sound. There’s clearly something between Liam and me, and pretending otherwise would just be childish.
“Fine, I will admit to a certain...attraction.”
“I knew it! And regardless of what Juliette says, if he asks you out, you should absolutely say yes.”
“I may have actually done that already.”
“Scandalous!” Roshni instantly leans forward in excitement and curiosity, and it’s hard not to feed off her bubbly energy. “When are you meeting him?” she asks impatiently.
“I’m supposed to see him tonight for drinks, but now I feel like I should cancel.”
“Winnie, please don’t think this is me trying to commandeer your decision-making, even though I kind of am, but I really don’t think Juliette should dictate what goes on in your personal, private life. She knows you love your job and that you want to make her happy, so she feels comfortable asking you to do things that go way beyond the call of duty. Not to be harsh, but she’s fully taking advantage of you, and you’re just letting her.”
Her words sink in, and I know she’s right. But I’m also so used to taking Juliette’s side that going against her wishes feels inherently wrong.
“For the record, though, it’s not like Juliette is some monster with no regard for my well-being. Last year a director put his hand on my butt at an after-party, and she basically flew down from the rafters and swore to physically and professionally disembowel him if he ever came near me again.”
“And I fully believe that,” Roshni says. “But it still doesn’t make what she’s doing okay.”
I nod with reluctant acceptance. “How old are you, again? I feel like I’m talking to an HR supervisor who moonlights as a therapist.”
“I’m twenty-three going on forty. It’s rumored I exited the womb inquiring about my 401(k).” I breathe out a giggle and look down at Ollie as Roshni goes on, “All I’m saying is, if you want to spend time with Liam, you should. You’re a good person and an amazing assistant. You deserve to do what you want to do and to talk to whoever you want to talk to. Plus, Ollie is basically my child, so the more you go out, the more he and I get to bond.”
“I would be honored to co-parent this puppy with you.”
“Same here.”
I give Ollie one more pet and then stand up to stretch my legs. “Okay, I guess I’ll still meet up with Liam, then. It’s just drinks, after all. And I can tell him what Juliette thinks about us spending time together.” Roshni gives me a satisfied smirk as I flop down into my favorite armchair. “Who would have thought that you would be such a bad influence on me? I thought you were so innocent when we first met.”
“Yes, well, it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? I’m just pumped I’ll get to experience a forbidden love affair through you, since I definitely won’t be having one of my own.”
“I’m sure your boyfriend appreciates that, and I wouldn’t get your hopes up. All of this talk might lead to nothing. Liam is strange and slightly infuriating. I don’t think I even like him.”
Roshni swings her legs onto the couch, pulling Ollie up to sit on her stomach as she lies flat on her back and smiles up at the ceiling. “Said every romantic leading lady ever.”
6
With my classic London taxi pulling away from the curb, I’m now left standing on Parliament Street in front of the somewhat iconic Red Lion. After reading online reviews, I learned that Charles Dickens used to come here quite often. (I may or may not be a Victorian fiction fangirl.) The wooden pub sign hangs overhead, adorned with gold and black paint, and, of course, emblazoned with the fierce image of a red lion. My gaze shifts as a double-decker bus turns a corner in the distance, and the whole scene feels so quintessentially British that I just may develop my own outlandish English/American accent à la Madonna by osmosis.
The glass pub door opens a second later, catching my eye as Liam walks out in jeans and a navy polo. “Glad you could make it,” he says, moving to stand directly in front of me. He looks so good that everything around him seems to blur as his hopeful blue eyes sear into mine. He leans in to kiss my cheek, but I hold my hands out in front of me, genuinely concerned about the repercussions that will follow if I catch a stronger whiff of his pheromones.
“Before you do or say anything else, you should know that your aunt explicitly told me she doesn’t want me spending time with you. So please be aware that I’m violating a very sacred and professional code of ethics by meeting you right now.”
“Right,” Liam says slowly. “That’s a lot to unpack. And here I was nervous we might end up having nothing to talk about.”
“That will never be an issue when I’m around. So, here’s what I’m thinking as far as a game plan. I’m thinking we go into this pub, we have a drink at the bar with an empty chair wedged between us, and then that’s it. We shake hands if we must, and we go our separate ways like two completely platonic, friendly ships passing in the night.”
Liam seems taken off guard but is quick to regain his mental footing. “Fair enough. And while that does sound like a solid option, the thing is, I have a weird aversion to eating alone, and I’m actually starving, so how about we just share a meal together and then we do as you suggested with the ships and whatnot?”
“The platonic ships passing in the night.”
“Yes, entirely platonic. No romantic chemistry between ships whatsoever. Just food and very bland conversation, on my part, obviously.”
