‘Are you in love with him?’
I freeze under the water, my hands sitting idly in the mass of bubbles on my head. ‘Don’t be stupid.’ I try to sound shocked, but all I achieve is a quiet, thoughtful rush of breath. I’m not sure what my feelings are because they’re all over the place at the moment. And they shouldn’t be, especially with the knowledge of another woman. I’m not in love with him, though. I’m intrigued by him, that’s all. He’s fascinating to me.
I wait for Nan’s comeback as my body remains still and my mind contemplates what she might say next. It’s a long time, but I eventually hear the distant creaking of floorboards. She’s gone, and she didn’t challenge my unconvincing reply to her final question, which is extremely unusual.
Gregory is making up for Nan’s mild interrogation. He’s humoured me for a few hours, riding the open-top, hop-on-hop-off tour bus and listening to me remind him of why I love London so much, but when I’m guided to the outside seating area of a cafe off Oxford Street, I know my time evading him has passed. ‘Coffee or water?’ he asks as the waiter approaches, giving me his roving eye.
‘Water.’ I ignore the waiter and commence a nervous fiddle of the napkin, folding it neatly too many times, until it’s no longer foldable.
My friend is looking at the waiter the same way the waiter is looking at me, all bug-eyed and smiley. ‘Water and an espresso, please, kind sir.’
I grin at Gregory, making it a continuous triangle of smiles as the waiter writes down our order and backs away, missing the lady on the next table who’s waving for his attention. It’s overcast but muggy, and my tight jeans are sticking to my thighs.
‘So,’ Gregory begins, taking the napkin from my hand, leaving me fiddling with my ring instead. ‘He promised twenty-four hours and you only got eight.’ He dives right in, no holding back.
I pout, and I hate myself for it. ‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’ I sigh. A few hours being distracted by the grandness of my beloved London did a wonderful job of temporarily washing him from my mind. That’s the problem, though; it’s just temporary.
‘What cut it short?’
‘He had to nip out.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.’ I refuse to look at Gregory, like a lack of eye contact might make telling him the truth easier. It must be working because I go on, keen to get his thoughts. ‘I woke up at three this morning and he was gone. He left a pillow note telling me he’d be back, then he called but wouldn’t say where he was, only that it was business. I got a little annoyed and so did he.’
‘What was he annoyed about?’
‘Because I said I was leaving and it’s ill-mannered to break a deal.’ I chance a look at Gregory, finding his brown eyes wide. ‘We didn’t actually shake on it,’ I finish, not adding the fact that according to Miller we f**ked on it.
‘He sounds like a knob,’ he declares spitefully. ‘An arrogant knob!’
‘He’s not,’ I argue quickly. ‘Well, he can come across a little like that, but not when he had me in his arms. He really did worship me. He said he was going to f**k me, but he . . .
‘What?’ Gregory screeches, leaning forward. ‘He actually said that to you?’
I sink back in my chair, thinking I should’ve kept that part to myself. I don’t want my friend to hate Miller, even if I do a little myself. ‘Yes, but he didn’t follow through on it. He showed me nothing but respect and . . .’ I pause, stopping myself from saying such a stupid word in these circumstances.
‘What?’
I shake my head. ‘He was a gentleman.’
Our drinks arrive and I immediately pour my water into my glass and take a long swig while I’m ogled by the smiling waiter and Gregory ogles him. ‘Thank you.’ My friend beams at the waiter, making his interest known, despite the waiter’s obvious sexual preference.
‘You’re welcome. Enjoy,’ the waiter says, keeping his eyes on me before he finally takes care of the woman who is again waving for his attention.
Gregory’s smiling face soon alters to a scowl when his eyes land back on me. ‘Livy, you’ve already said that you saw him with a woman. I know just as well as you do that she’s probably no business associate. He sounds nothing like a gentleman.’