‘Salut!’ I said, clinking my glass with Leo’s.
‘Salutto you too,’ he replied, with a smile, our legs touching as we sat side by side.
The wine was deliciously light and drinkable. Just how I liked it.
‘I was hoping we might get some alone time together as it happens,’ Leo said. ‘I got you a little something just in case.’
‘Did you?’ I asked. ‘What if I’d told you to sod off even after you’d explained?’
‘Call me a hopeless romantic, I guess,’ he replied, pulling a small box out of his pocket.
I eyed it in surprise. ‘Are you about to propose?’
Leo laughed. ‘I’m not that hopeless.’ He opened the box and there, wedged into a red velvet ring slot, was my liver bird necklace.
I was speechless. ‘How did you even…?’ I picked it up in shock; it was like a magic trick. He must have hired a fleet of detectorists to find it. There was no possible way it could be…
‘It’s not your lucky number eight I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘But I managed to track down another.’
‘There were only ever a handful made. How did you…?’
He turned it over in my hand. ‘Luck must be on my side. I know it’s not the same, but by some miracle I found number eighty-eight. Double your lucky number for twice the luck,’ he said, with a shy smile. ‘I know how much it meant to you.’
The gold was glossy and the chain was slinky and delicate. Leo put it on for me, then kissed my neck, and it sat in the exact same spot as my old liver bird, next to my heart. It felt right.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I whispered, holding on to it tight. ‘This is so incredibly thoughtful. Thank you doesn’t feel like enough.’
‘It’s enough,’ he said, softly. ‘I’m glad you like it.’
‘I do.’
‘Now your lucky moments can remind you of me, too.’
‘Why would I need reminding of you?’ His smile dropped and I lifted his chin with my finger. ‘This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, is it?’ His eyes searched mine, hesitant and slightly fearful, as though I was about to pull the rug out from under him again. ‘I didn’t mean for that to sound like a question,’ I said, changing tone to make it a statement of fact. ‘This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, is it.’
‘I hope not, but as I said, this whole situation has been very confusing. I’ve never been entirely sure where I stand.’
‘Mr Leo Kendrick feeling insecure? Now I’ve seen it all. Hold the front page ofPR News.’ His neck flushed bright red. I hadn’t seen this side of him before, and I felt mean toying with his emotions. ‘Let me tell you where I stand – or where I want to stand – and maybe that’ll help. When we worked together as interns I couldn’t think about anything but getting that job. I liked you – of course I did – but you were the competition, and all I could think about was beating you. Then when you got it instead I couldn’t bear to stay in touch as the loser. Any reminder of you made me feel like a failure.’
‘No!’ he said, looking genuinely concerned. ‘You were the smart one, the creative one – the one with all the brilliant ideas. I just put the decks together and talked them through. I was convinced that whole summer that you’d get the job and I’d be out on my arse. It seemed obvious to me that you were the right choice.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘It’s true! And then when they offered it to me, I couldn’t believe my luck. I felt like the cat who’d got the cream – thejob and maybe a chance with you. I’d planned to ask you out properly once the dust settled and you’d been snapped up by a competitor, but you disappeared. You never got back to me when I reached out. How could you ever feel like a failure? I was the fraud – I should never have accepted the job.’
‘Of course you should. You got the job for lots of different reasons; it was never just down to the work. You’re cool and relaxed and charming. I’m none of those things.’
‘You’re all of those things!’ he said, reaching out to squeeze my leg under the bar, as if to emphasise his point.
‘Well, I’d never describe myself like that, and that’s the truth. YOU have an innate belief in yourself that I’ve never had and seeing you after all this time has reminded me of that.’
‘I’m glad it appears that way, because inside I’m full of jelly. The imposter syndrome is real.’
‘For me too, and if I’m honest, this pitch brought up those same feelings of failure again – knowing you could take my account from me and having you right there in my face. However much I liked you as a person, my livelihood was at stake. But amid all that, I started to develop real feelings and the more they grew, the more I just wanted to be with you.’
‘Same,’ he said, leaning in.
‘I was almost looking for a reason to shut it down, you know? Maybe my subconscious needed to believe the bad in you to be able to focus on the pitch. Maybe it was the same thing all those years ago as well – to justify the loss. I was devastated and it was easier to blame you than to consider I might be at fault somehow.’
