“I get that.” At least, my brain registered his surprise, then laser engraved it inside my head. “What were you doing there, incidentally?”And as an aside, did you have anything to do with my humiliation today?
“We’re looking for a collaboration on an acquisition. I don’t know how that went,” he says, raking his hand through his hair. “I didn’t ... Too much on my mind, I guess.”
For the first time I notice the dark circles under his eyes. The pinch between his brows.
You think you have a lot on your mind now? Well, I’m about to blow it.
“Look, Ryan, let me just say that I’m so sorry for not telling you the truth in October. And for yesterday. I’m gutted that seeing me knocked you sideways.”
“It did, as you say, knock me sideways.” I glance down at my manicure, the pale tips against the dark wooden table. I’m not sure it was purely shock that took me to the bathroom.
“But here’s the thing. Cards on the table, and peelin’ back my skin. If I could go back and do it all again, I’m not at all sure I’d change a thing.”
My bun hits the back of the booth.What now?
“I don’t think I could risk the experience, because God knows I have thought of little else since.”
My stomach does a traitorous little flip, shock replaced by pleasure, those recollections fluttering to life inside me.
“Are you okay?” he asks tentatively when I don’t offer anything. “Feeling better, I mean?”
This isn’t a throwaway line but a genuine question. A real concern as he studies my face. But my impassivity is first class. A mask I have worn for years. Even if my internal world feels like it’s crumbling.
“Seeing you yesterday ... I can only imagine how you must’ve felt.”
Goddammit! I screw my eyes tight as they begin to prickle. I willnotcry.
“Ah, darlin’.” His hand moves to cover mine, but I snatch it away, using it to lift my cooling tea to my mouth.When in Rome, right? I’d rather be drinking wine.An inappropriate laugh bubbles inside me.Not for the next few months.
“I’m fine,” I say, mastering both my tears and my ridiculousness as I set the cup down again. “It’s just been a weird twenty-four hours.” Understatement of the century.
“Yeah,” he agrees in a low rumble. “It must’ve been an absolute head fuck, and then being ill, on top of everything.”
Sick, not ill. Like the two are unconnected.“It wasn’t the sight of you or anything.” My tone makes a mockery of my words. I don’t expect him to bite, but I also don’t expect the tiny hint of his smile.
“Like I say, I can only imagine, because it felt like my own heart was in my mouth when I saw you there. And I had the advantage. I already knew you were in London.”
“How?” I feel myself frown. That sounds stalkerish, right? “How could ...”
“I saw you on Saturday. At the Palladium.”
“Oh, right.” In the office bathrooms he said as much, I guess. I just wasn’t taking anything in or even thinking straight.
“You had a conversation with my niece. She’s a dotey little thing,” he adds, holding out his hand in a height approximation that spells outlittle. “Yellow dress, red rose, duffle coat? Dressed as a princess?”
“Belle, I remember.” I smile despite the situation.My situation.“She’d dropped her rose.”
“Yeah, Clodagh said. That’s her name.”
“Yeah, she told me.” I told her she had a pretty name, and she asked me why I had a boy’s name. I’d gone to the box office to book a show as part of the full London experience. A London experience that’s turning out to be shorter than the one I envisaged, for sure.
“At first, I thought it must’ve been wishful thinking.”
“Wishful?” The word is a hopeful little sound floating in the air between us.
“That I’d imagined you there. Mistaken you for someone else. Someone else with dark hair and a green coat.” Another small smile, like he’s remembering my dress, not my underwear, as I ignore that hopeful flutter. “But then Clo told me about the zeppole fan club you both belong to, so ... I ran after you.”
“You ran?” There goes that flutter again. “Ran where?”
