‘You haven’t been chasing him or crushing on him since college?’ she repeats lazily as she opens the fridge. I don’t need to see her to know this. Reggie and I have been friends since grade school. Right now, I know without a doubt she’s drinking orange juice straight from the carton, a terrible habit neither Josh nor I have been able to dissuade her of.
‘If I’ve been chasing him, it’s been in a purely professional sense,’ I protest.
‘My bad,’ she replies disparagingly as the sound of glass condiment bottles chinking precedes the slam of the fridge door. ‘Oh, and liar, liar, pants on fire.’
‘It’s true!’ I protest. ‘Imayhave, from a purely aesthetic viewpoint, mentioned how easy on the eyes the man is—’
‘And how much you want in his pants,’ she adds a little gleefully.
‘But I haven’t been chasing him.’
‘Does following him around with your tongue hanging out count as chasing?’
‘You’re mean before breakfast.’
‘And you’re not fooling anyone. You’ll have that man out of his suit pants before he can say “venture capitalist” just as soon as you’ve secured your—’ Her words halt, and I almost hear the penny drop. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve gotten a pitch meeting!’
‘I’ve had it. Delivered it this morning. A couple of hours ago.’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ she almost screeches. ‘How did it go? It went well, didn’t it? It went amazing, right?’
‘Well enough to get me another appointment on Monday.’
‘Yes!’ I know that burst of excitement came with an air punch. ‘Your ribs must be aching from all the congratulatory team hugs.’
‘You’re the first person I’ve told. I didn’t want to get their hopes up unnecessarily.’
‘Ollie, we’ve had this conversation. There is no “i” in team.’
‘No, but there’s amein team, and as it’s me who’s responsible for paying their salaries, the rent on our offices, and a million other things, I haven’t had the heart to tell them how things have been looking.’ Reggie is the only person who knows the company has been kept afloat by my inheritance. No, that’s not true. Luke knows, too. But it’s an inheritancenotfollowed by six zeros. I only came into it last year, and it’s now almost entirely spent. ‘I’ve had so much riding on this meeting.’
‘And now you’ve had it. You’ve got this, babe.’
I let out a long sigh, my eyes welling with tears that are a strange mixture of release and apprehension. ‘Oh, God, I hope so, Reggie. I really do.’
After a glass and a half of liquid relief later, I climb back through my bedroom window just as the sun decides it’s done for the day. The air is still heavy, and even though foreboding grey clouds fill the sky, nothing will spoil my mood. I’m shaved, buffed, and slathered in cream, and almost dancing around my bedroom in my underwear, filled with a nervous kind of anticipation. I can’t remember the last time I had sex, and when I say I can’t remember, I mean on purpose because the experience was that bad.A one-night stand following the party of a friend, a little too much vodka, and a lot of grinding against nothing very much.The experience confirmed my suspicions that I’m a monogamous relationship type of girl. And as I’ve been interested in only one man since, but unable to do anything about it, I’m more than ready for tonight.
Still in my underwear, I add a little smoky eye to my makeup routine before slipping on a flirty little vintage Stella McCartney dress.Vintage sounds so much better than second-hand.With a spritz of perfume, I’m ready for a night with Luke. A night of firsts. A night that might be the beginning of forever. What I’m not quite so ready for is a trip on the bus. I might be on the brink of multimillion-pound success, but it would be irresponsible to be anything but frugal until the ink dries on the contract.
For the whole journey along Uxbridge Road, I feel twitchy and restless, and I’m not sure the feeling is one hundred percent excitement. My wave of wine bravery has long since wore off, and my confidence waned. It might be my psyche’s attempt at managing my expectations. I’m sure most people could relate. We’ve all had that one childhood birthday that couldn’t quite come soon enough. The day we’ve been on our best behaviour for, and the party that didn’t quite live up to the excitement and hype. Not that I’m equalling dinner with Luke to a gift I somehow deserve, but I have been on my best behaviour around him. Also, Reggie was right, I have had a crush on him for these past few years. And as I walk into the Brasserie where we’d planned to meet, I wonder if my subconscious had picked up on something my sentient self didn’t see because as I’m led to our table, Luke’s expression isn’t exactly a balm to my nerves.
‘Hey,’ he greets me, his hands clasping the tops of my arms as he pulls me in for a double air kiss. It’s not exactly the warm, enveloping hug I was expecting. Not that I was expecting a passionate embrace in the restaurant or his hands all over me, but I’m also not a colleague or a distant cousin.
The waiter pulls out my chair, but before he has time to turn away, Luke shoves a glass at him.
‘Same again,’ he demands without tending the invitation to me. And he looks... dreadful. His shirt appears to have had a fight with an iron and lost, his blue eyes ringed with tiredness, and his endearingly floppy hair now appears to bear a two-day unwashed sheen.As if he’s run his hands through it repeatedly.
‘Is everything okay?’ My mind slips to my pitch this morning, and my concerns that Luke had somehow snuck me in through the back door. But didn’t he say that was his job—to find and introduce interesting investments? Besides, they wouldn’t waste their time calling me in on Monday if they had no interest in my company.
Maybe that’s it—maybe he wants to cool things off until after meeting number two?But that can’t be it. He said any conflict of interest would be over once he’d introduced E-Volve as a possible investment partner.
‘This isn’t how I envisaged tonight going,’ he mumbles, staring at an empty wineglass on the table.The size of a goldfish bowl on a spindly stem.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, my gaze now fixed on it, too. I take in the lily-white linens and the gleaming silverware. Above us, light fittings that look more like art installations don’t provide so much an ambient light as a glare. The walls are stark, pale-coloured artwork like a smudge of cream left on a porcelain plate. I shift a little in the chair, the brushed steel cutting into the back of my thighs. Would it have killed them to use a little upholstery? While obviously an expensive restaurant, it isn’t exactly the kind of place that screams seduction or romance. It’s a monument to minimalism. Cold and impersonal.
‘What is it, Luke? What’s wrong?’ I reach out across the snowy table linens, covering his hands with mine as a black-clad waiter arrives with his drink. His presence causes Luke to snatch back his hand as though we’d been discovered half naked and not just holding hands.
‘I don’t know where to start.’ But that’s a lie because it seems he’s going to start from the bottom of his glass as he throws back what I assume is neat vodka and not water, draining the contents with a pained scowl.
