CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I’m at Roasted by quarter past seven.
I nervously hang around outside for a bit, remembering why I don’t like getting to places early, because you have time to think about things and I’m already feeling sick to my stomach as it is. That is partly down to the hangover from last night and such an early start this morning, but it’s mostly because of what I know I have to do. Pacing by the door, I join the queue at half past, glancing back over my shoulder every few seconds, terrified that I’ll get the timing wrong and this won’t work.
When my coffees are ready, I grab them and linger by the door again. My calculations have paid off, though. At exactly seven forty, Ryan comes into sight, walking from the tube station, his hands in his pockets, his jaw set, his eyes fixed on the ground a few paces ahead of him. He wasn’t lying when he used to say how early he got to the office every day.
I exhale shakily and, steeling myself, I march over to stand in his way.
He stops and looks up. His eyes widen with disbelief.
“Harper!”
“Hey.”
We stare at each other for a moment, taking the other one in.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his forehead creasing like it does when he’s confused about something and is trying to find the solution.
“I got you a mocha,” I say, holding it out for him. “I know you like those.”
He takes the cup from me and raises his eyebrows as he reads the name written in black marker across the side.
“This is for Parker.”
“I purposefully said Parker this time,” I confess. “It seemed easier.”
He nods. “Thanks.”
“I wanted to give you a mocha and also an apology,” I say hurriedly, desperate to get this out before I lose my nerve. “The day I lost my job, I said a lot of things… angry things, and I was upset and hurt and you didn’t deserve it. So, I wanted to say sorry.”
He looks surprised. “Oh.”
“I’ve been thinking about everything and how it was unfair of me to explode at you like that,” I ramble, “especially when I’d been the one in Florence telling you that I wanted to keep things professional at work. Cosmo put you in a difficult position, and as upset as I was, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”
He hesitates. “Right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We both stand there awkwardly.
“I’m sorry, too,” he says eventually, frowning. “For not telling you.”
“I know.” I nod. “You already told me that.”
More silence.
“Congratulations on the podcast,” he says. “It’s incredible.”
“Thanks! And thank you for your message. That was really nice of you.”
“Of course.”
This isexcruciating.I didn’t think it was going to go like this. I didn’t know how it was going to go, but I didn’t think therewould be so many awkward pauses. There’s a gulf between us, and I have no idea how to close it.
The only thing I can think to do is follow Ryan’s lead from Florence. Time to bare it all.
“Okay, here goes,” I say out loud, psyching myself up and looking into those piercing blue eyes that make my heart thud so hard, it rings in my ears. “Ryan, since you started working with me atNarrative,I—”
