Nina. Of course.
“Miss Brown?” Nina lingered in the doorway, her shoulders pulled back. “I’ve reorganised your appointments for this afternoon since you want me to leave.”
“Good.” Billie slipped into her overcoat, giving Nina a moment to correct herself before Billie called her out on herblatant lie. “You won’t need to move anything else. I’m heading out.”
Nina frowned. “Out?”
“Yes. Out.” Billie slid her phone into the inside pocket of her coat.
“For how long?” Nina asked, seemingly thrownandbothered by the fact that Billie had a life outside of here today. “You don’t go out during business hours.”
“Well, I do today.”
“I…it’s not in your schedule,” Nina said as she frantically scrolled through her iPad. “I don’t understand. Everything is in your schedule. Or…it should be.”
Billie’s brow lifted. “Is that so?”
“I just meant—” Nina sighed. “You usually have client fittings until four.”
“Mm. I’m aware.” Billie buttoned her coat slowly, the faintest edge to her tone. “And since I’m the one who approves the schedule, I also happen to know that there are no clients booked this afternoon.Don’tlie to me again.” Billie stepped closer, her tone changing just enough to be kind without losing authority. Nina swallowed and lowered her gaze. “You’ve done excellent work lately, Nina. Butdon’tmistake familiarity for privilege. My time is still my own.”
Nina nodded, refusing to make eye contact. “Of course, Miss Brown.”
“Good.” Billie reached for her leather gloves, smoothing them on one by one. “Now, can I trust you to lock up…or do I have to do it myself?”
“No, of course. I can lock up. It’s no problem.”
Billie moved past her, the subtle scent of her perfume trailing between them. She could feel Nina’s eyes on her, a mixture of resentment and curiosity, and for once, Billie didn’t care what she saw or assumed.
In the mirrored glass of the shopfront, she caught one last glimpse of herself. She allowed a small smile to break through. Foryears, she’d believed that control was safety. Foryears, she’d believed that routine was protection. But today, she was willingly stepping out of both.
She wasn’t going to a meeting. She wasn’t seeing a client. No, she was going to lunch with Debra Allen. Somehow, that felt far more dangerous thananythingshe’d done in her life.
Chapter Twelve
The restaurant was soquiet that every sound seemed to ring in Debra’s ears. The scrape of chairs, the shuffle of coats as people drifted in and out, everything felt amplified as she scanned the space for the millionth time since she’d been shown to her table. She sat by the window, her untouched glass of wine catching what little sunlight slipped through the clouds.
She’d arrived early.
Half an hour early, in fact.
And now, fifteen minutes past the time they were supposed to meet, doubt had started to slowly creep in. Billie wasn’t coming; she was sure of that now. Debra could feel the truth of it, the rejection once again, settling deep inside of her. She didn’t know why she was doing this to herself. She didn’t know why she had walked into Brown & Co. today, knowing at the back of her mind that Billie wouldn’t want to have lunch with her. As she sat there, she wished Billie had just been forthcoming with the truth the moment she’d invited her to lunch.
Her heart had been lodged somewhere near her throat since she’d left her flat an hour ago. She’d dressed with the kind of effort that she hoped didn’t show—dark jeans, a cream blouse, and her hair styled the way she used to wear it before her ex-husband dismissed it as ‘too slutty.’ She didn’t miss those days, but she did miss having someone to talk to other than Maeve.
This isn’t a date, she reminded herself, even though her pulse refused to behave like it understood.
She checked her phone again.
Still nothing.
Billie had absolutely changed her mind. Or maybe it had been nothing more than a polite performance out on the shop floor, when really it was just another line Billie had never planned to cross.
Debra sighed and reached for her wine. She would finish it, and then she would ask for the bill. She didn’t have an issue eating alone, she’d done that plenty of times over the years, but knowing she should have been sitting across from Billie, and now wouldn’t be, had ruined her appetite.
She barely had time to brace for the ache of disappointment before?—
“Ms Allen.”
