‘See you soon,’ he said.
‘Philip,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
My phone went dead, but I pretended to chat on it regardless. ‘Yeah, oh my God, New York. It’s pretty cool. I’m just waiting on my boyfriend, he was at an advanced jiu-jitsu class there.’ I spoke as loud as I could as the hooded teens passed. ‘He’s just around the corner. Maybe he stopped off at the gun shop,’ I added for good measure.
Twenty agonising minutes later, a yellow cab finally slid to the kerb beside me. I stood rooted – exhausted, trembling, every muscle tight with fear and relief. I had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly desperate to see Philip. He lowered the window and smiled.
‘Get in,’ he said, looking relieved I was still in one piece.
I made my way into the car and looked at him, his tanned skin, his gorgeous eyes. This man could get anyone he wanted, yet somehow he was here with me.
‘Thanks for coming,’ I said, letting out a puff of breath as my legs finally began to rest.
‘Who were you talking to?’ Philip asked with a slight smirk, noticing my dead phone screen as the taxi set off.
‘No one, I was using it as a deterrent.’
Philip let out a huge laugh and I gasped in shock.
‘What? I said my boyfriend’s just at the gun shop.’ I giggled as I realised how far-fetched I sounded. ‘Listen, it worked.’
‘It did, it did.’ He chuckled. ‘I do like you calling me “boyfriend”, though.’ He raised his brows cheekily, and I hit his arm and shook my head. ‘Do you want to be dropped off at the apartment?’ he asked.
I hesitated, anxiety twisting in my chest. Zola hadn’t called. The memory of our fight stung, every harsh word echoing, and I pictured her still furious, still hurting from what I’d said.
‘Or you could come back to mine? Chill out for a bit,’ he offered, sensing my reluctance to go home.
‘Would that be OK?’ I asked. ‘I had major beef with Zola, and I don’t fancy stepping back into that right now.’
Philip smiled, looking relieved. ‘Whatever you want, Pilates.’
The rest of the taxi ride slipped by with Philip sharing stories about New York, his conversation lightening my mood. Soon, we pulled up outside the Ritz-Carlton, and I side-eyed him.
‘Canny hide money, can you?’ I sniggered as the doorman opened my door.
‘Can’t take it with you either,’ he laughed, paying the cab and stepping out.
We headed through the grand foyer and Philip steered us towards the elevators. We stepped inside, and he pressed for the second floor. I smiled, remembering his fear of heights, and knew he must have requested a lower-level room for a reason.
When the elevator reached the second floor, Philip allowed me to step out first and pointed to the room directly across from us.
He took the key card from his pocket and swiped it down, then opened the door. As I stepped inside, the lights turned on, detecting my movement. His room was a grand suite with a large living area and a bedroom off to the side. Everything was a pinkish cream with pale gold accessories, elegant and pristine. I walked over to the wide window, which gave a view of Central Park. Almost by reflex, I tried to work out where Jimmy’s apartment was. I knew it was close by.
‘What are you looking for?’ Philip asked, creeping up beside me as if he’d read my mind.
‘I’m not looking at anything, just the view!’ I forced a smile, but inside I felt pain. So much had happened with Jimmy, and I knew he was probably in an apartment around the corner, feeling like shit, while I was in the Ritz with my ex.
‘Would you like me to run you a bath?’ Philip asked. ‘You look cold, Ella.’ He walked around to face me, placed his warm hands over my cool ones, and grinned.
‘No.’ I pulled them away and took a seat. ‘I’ll be fine in a few seconds, thanks.’
Philip sat down beside me and reached for the TV remote. An F1 race came on the widescreen. Instantly, I flashed back to life with him before, watching all the things that he liked. Although he was being kind and caring now, something felt off.
I stood up. ‘Do you have a charger I could plug into?’ I asked, scanning the suite.
‘It’s just over there.’ He pointed to a small table. I spotted the cable hanging off it, plugged in my phone, then took a seat back on the sofa.
‘Are you OK, Ella? You seem .?.?.’
