“Sorry. Umm, where are we?” The combination of alcohol and sleep had me disorientated.
“You fell asleep before we were out of London,” Garrett explained, rubbing the point of contact. “I hope it was tiredness, and not boredom?”
“Of course. It’s been a long day and a tiring evening,” I admitted.
“We’ll be back home in a few minutes, so sleepyhead will soon be in bed,” he replied, with a smile, before reaching across and taking my hand in his. When he gave me another of his knuckle-kisses, part of me worried he thought he would be joining me.
Sam parked the car in front of the door to my accommodation. When he left the engine running, I let out a sigh of relief that Garrett was clearly not intending to stay.
“I’ll be back shortly, Sam,” he said, taking my hand and walking me through the door. With each step we were closer to my room, my dread became a heavier burden. I had intended to let Garrett down in the car, not here. Turning onto my corridor, I knew I had to speak up.
“Thank you for this evening. I had a lovely time. But—”
“Sshh, don’t say a word,” he interrupted. “You’re tired and Grandmother can be a bit overwhelming. Leave it for now.” His words suggested he knew what I had been about to say. He took my key and opened my door. “Here you are, Cinderella.” He lowered his head and gave me the briefest of chaste kisses. “Goodnight, Neve,” he said, raising my hand to his lips and kissing my fingertips. “See you tomorrow.” And he was gone, along with the opportunity to make my feelings known.
I had a fitful night’s sleep after my evening at The Ritz. I had barely been able to stay awake long enough to take off the dress, let alone my makeup, but sleep had been an unhelpful friend. Images of Jake and Ester had stopped my brain from resting and so I woke up looking and feeling like crap. Great.
By mid-afternoon, I was still in my pyjamas and trying to struggle through the reading for one of my seminars. However, the rural troubles of Thomas Hardy were not enough to occupy my brain and it kept returning to Garrett and, more specifically, how I was going to tell him that I wasn’t interested in being more than his friend. How would he take it? Ruby’s story had done nothing to make me think this was going to be an easy conversation, but procrastination was only going to make it worse.
I indulged in a bar of chocolate and rehearsed the conversation in my head before picking up my phone.
Of course he answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Neve!”
Of course he sounded pleased I had rung.
“Hi. I just wanted to say thanks for last night,” I started, knowing it would be too rude to go straight into the real reason for my call.
“That’s okay. I wasn’t sure if it was too weird, taking you to meet Grandmother so soon, you know. But I spent so much of Friday talking about you, it seemed like a good idea when she suggested it.”
“I didn’t realise it was her idea.” Did that make it any better?
“Yes, I think she wanted to check you out. You know, see whether you were good enough for her only grandson!”
“And did she?” I thought back to her comment about me almost being a thoroughbred and felt my temper rise.
“Oh, yes, she’s already spoken to me today. She invited us back to London for Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving? But she’s English.”
“I know. She just wants to stop me feeling homesick. Are you up for it?” Oh, God, he obviously was unaware of what was going through my mind.
“Thanksgiving? When is it?” I bought myself some time to decide whether to just tell the truth then and there.
“It’s the last week in November. Thanksgiving is the Thursday and then we usually go shopping on Friday. I thought we could stay over,” he added. Shit.
“Umm, I’m not sure… Mum’s birthday is that week so I may have to go home.” It was a good thing he couldn’t see the tell-tale burning of my face as I told the lie.
“Oh,” he said, disappointment dripping from the simple sound. “Well, check the dates and we can see if we can make it work.” There was an awkward pause. “Do you fancy going for a drink this evening?” I wasn’t enough of a bitch to reject him a second time so found myself agreeing to be picked up at seven. Shit, shit and double-shit.
Just before seven found me stood outside my housing block, waiting for Garrett to arrive. Opting for something more casual than the night before, I wore a leather jacket over a long-sleeved, lace top and skinny jeans. I had straightened my hair and tried to style it like Emma did in the hairdressers, aiming for the more mature confidence I had felt that afternoon.
As soon as Garrett pulled in front of me, I opened the passenger door and got in. Yes, I was trying to take some control. Yes, I knew it was a token attempt at best. When I turned to buckle my seatbelt, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was nice, pleasant: you know, all of those words that told me it wasn’t Jake.
When I felt his tongue try to part my lips, I pulled back.