We finished off our emails, and I headed home, Zola’s words echoing in my mind. Deep down, I knew she was right, even if I would never admit it out loud. But over the past few months, I had changed. I’d become a softer, more sensitive version of myself. But isn’t that what people do when they fall in love?
Philip was caring and kind. And he had a dick more powerful than the Elder Wand. Still, I did find myself prioritising his preferences over my own, sometimes without even realising it. He never seemed to ask me questions about my work or how my business was going, either, yet we’d spend half the day chatting about the vital decisions he has to make in his. Granted, since we started our own company, the PR work had been slow, and most of my days were filled with sprucing up local businesses’ social media accounts and charging a one-off flat fee. There wasn’t anything exciting going on in my work life compared to the hospitality sector he was taking over. But I did make sure to prioritise him, and his needs. All of a sudden, I was happy to watch football most nights, instead of my usualGossip Girlreruns. And, I mean, just the other day in the supermarket, I automatically picked up an overpriced loaf of shitty sourdough instead of my usual Warburtons toastie loaf because I knew Philip preferred it.
Shit. I walked up the stairwell to my West End flat slowly. My mind raced, as I started to wonder if I had lost myself a little more than I was aware of. If relationships were about making compromises, then surely Philip would understand why I had to try and revisit The Dicktionary Club.Why did I care so much what he thought?New York should be the most exciting thing to ever happen to me. I should be singing about it from the rooftops. Fuck, I should be working on this pitch day and night to make sure I nailed it. So why wasn’t I? Instead, I was lying in bed at night, wondering how to tell Philip – worrying about his opinion. Would he be angry? Mad? Or would he even dump me? He was the first guy I’d opened up to in years; the thought of not having him, or of starting all over again in my mid-thirties felt like an unbearable gut-crushing ache. Philip loved me, and when I was with him, I really felt the intensity of that love. He would bring me flowers and compliment me a hundred times a day. I didn’t feel insecure or worried that he would run off with someone else. He was reassuring, steady and understanding. Maybe I had built this whole thing into some giant problem when it didn’t have to be.
I reached the door of my flat and pushed it open, hearing something fall on the other side. Philip’s jacket had fallen off the peg. I picked it up and clutched it close to my chest, inhaling his fanny-fluttering scent that I loved so much. Why was I so worried about this? I shook my head and let out a small laugh, making my way over to the sofa and stretching out.
I wanted to go to New York. I’d always dreamed of the sightseeing, the shopping, the incredible people, of tucking into those huge American portions of smoked-salmon bagels and Little Italy pizzas, guilt-free. Not to mention the work side of things – the bustle of the city and walking down sidewalks lined with glorious skyscrapers. As I envisioned it all, I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach for the first time in a long while. This opportunity was huge for us, and Philip was a businessman; he would understand that. It suddenly wasn’t just about a life-changing meeting – it was about doing something for myself again, pursuing the kind of career I’d always wanted, and proving I could still be the bold badass I was before Philip Khan. My head had been distracted, focused on how to be the perfect girlfriend, and my career had taken a kick to the side.But why can’t I be both?I wondered.
I could feel anger simmering inside me – not at him, but at myself for building this into something much bigger than it had to be. I realised all this anxiety and worry was on me – I didn’t want to lose him. I thought about Philip, his kind eyes, his warm body and how he also prioritised things for me. How he scheduled date nights in his calendar: he’d drive to Glasgow from meetings in Edinburgh just to see me, then head back. Fuck, the other day he emptied out one of his gym’s stock of salted caramel protein powder because he knew I was running low.
Philip was the perfect boyfriend; he’d not even question my trip to New York. Perhaps it was just as Zola said, trauma from The Dicktionary Club launch had made me apprehensive. But we’d come so far since then, fuck, that part of our lives was well and truly in the past.
I felt a tiny glint of optimism spark inside me. Tonight, I’d tell him, and we’d celebrate this opportunity together. What the hell was I so worried about?
Chapter Two
Ella
As I got ready for dinner that evening, I went through the conversation I’d planned with Philip in my head, over and over. He’d ask about my day, and I’d say, ‘Well, actually, it was amazing. We’ve just had an unbelievable last-minute invite to go to New York! What the fuck!’ Then I’d smile incredulously, pretending it hadn’t been in the works for months. And after he was done congratulating me, he’d ask what the invite was for, and I’d massively play down The Dicktionary Club part and say it was a tech company thing. Everything would be fine.
I took a deep breath, flicked out the layers of my hair, then slipped on a long silk skirt with a sizeable split up the side and a cropped black top. I added a touch of Mac lipstick and gloss. Sophisticated and sexy – yes.
Just after six, I heard a toot outside and headed down the stairwell. I could see him smiling at me through the window and my nerves settled.
I opened the passenger door and Philip leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. He looked as fresh and handsome as always – his deep musky scent engulfed me in a second. His toned, tanned arms on the steering wheel – fuck me, he was gorgeous.
‘Hi, how are—’ I began, but he raised his hand and pointed to the speaker. He mouthed ‘Sorry’. Then I realised he was still on a work call. Great.
He chatted aimlessly to one of his bar designers as we drove through the city, occasionally mentioning actual work, but mostly making inside jokes about interior fails. At the same time, I gazed out of the window. It was approaching September, and the autumn leaves were beginning to appear on the trees. We continued through Glasgow’s rush-hour traffic, eventually reaching Mini Grill, our favourite spot for steak. But as Philip parked up, he continued his call. I stared out of the window, watching crowds of glammed-up women enter the King’s Theatre across the street, ready to enjoy their night. I eventually turned, watching him laugh and crack jokes, not even aware I was death staring him by now.
‘OK, mate. I have to go. I have a night of making up to do with Ella. She has listened to far too much of this renovation chat.’
He finally cut off the call and faced me, bringing both his hands to my cheeks and pulling me in for a kiss. I began to laugh as he kissed my lips and moaned, muffling ‘I’m sorry’ over and over. Eventually, I batted him off me, wiped my Mac ‘Locked Kiss’ (not as kissproof as the price point would have you believe) off his face, and shook my head. ‘Let’s go, I’m hungry!’
We headed inside and were seated by the friendly staff at a small table by the window.
‘I’m sorry about that, but duty calls! There are big developments with the bar opening in Leith,’ he said as he picked up the menu.
‘Oh, that’s good,’ I replied, trying to sound interested. But inside, I felt nervous, wanting to get this New York weight off my chest as soon as possible.
Philip raised a brow. ‘Are you OK?’
The waitress approached, smiling widely. ‘Mr Khan, what would you like to drink?’
Philip’s eyes lit up. ‘The house red for you?’ he suggested, looking my way. ‘Coke for me. I’m driving.’
I shook my head. ‘Actually, I’m more in the mood for champagne. We’re celebrating!’
‘Oh, sure!’ the waitress replied and headed back.
‘Wow, champagne?’ Philip looked surprised, placing his menu down. ‘What’s going on? Are we getting blotto? I can park up for the night, so we can get a taxi home?’
I started to laugh. ‘I thought we could celebrate some work news that I have for a change!’ I sat back and smiled, although nerves twisted under my skin.
‘Go on .?.?.’ Philip began, then his phone started ringing once more. ‘Aghh, shit. I’m sorry.’ He hesitated, glancing between the phone and me. ‘Duty calls.’ My face fell at that stupid fucking catchphrase yet again. He stood up and walked to the restaurant door. I watched him through the glass wall as he giggled and gestured at the other end of the call.
‘Champagne?’ the waitress announced, returning with two glasses and popping the cork.
