‘Have there been any more suggestive texts?’
Oh, more than texts. There have been endless phone calls and the fact that he tricked me into going back to The Manor on the pretense that I was designing, only to have me trapped in one of his hotel suites so he could seduce me. Kate would thrive on my misfortune, which is exactly why I’ve not told her. If I don’t hear the words out loud, then I can almost pretend it didn’t happen…almost. I’m a fool. I’ve thought of little else, and he’s not helping me in my attempt to eradicate him from my mind with all his calls. I don’t need to be getting involved with anyone, especially someone who’s already involved with someone else. Besides, I’m just a mission for him to accomplish. The man’s a playboy and not the sort of man I need to be getting involved with. He quite obviously has commitment issues. I don’t like Sarah, but I do feel sorry for her.
‘No.’ I answer on a sigh.
She looks at me questioningly, making me feel like I’m under examination. I am. I’m twiddling my hair. I release it on a huff.
‘You deserve some fun.’ she says thoughtfully. Fun? I don’t call getting tied up with an involved man fun by any stretch of the imagination. I call it stupid! ‘After Matt, you definitely deserve some fun.’
I’m keen not to get into a conversation about Matt. Kate doesn’t know that he still calls me now and then. I don’t know why he does.
‘I’ve got to get back to work,’ I lean over, giving Kate a peck on the cheek. ‘Luv ya.’
‘Yeah, ditto. I’ll be late tonight. There’s a cake convention at The Hilton.’ She gets up, waving me away when I try to give her some money for lunch. ‘It’s my turn.’
I put my money back in my purse. ‘Okay, but it’s my shout next time.’
We leave each other outside the bar, Kate heading back to her workshop, me back to the office.
***
I collapse onto the sofa when I get home. I need an early night. Tomorrow will be a long day at Lusso and I need to be on form. My phone rings. I roll my eyes as I look at the screen, but it’s not who I expected it to be. It’s Matt. I groan to myself. When will my phone ring and it be someone that I actually want to speak to?
‘Hi,’ I all but groan.
‘All right?’ he greets, with his usual confident tone.
‘Yeah, and you?’ I know he’s fine. I’ve heard he’s out almost every night, catching up on lost time. Not that our relationship prevented him from living exactly how he wanted to anyway.
‘All good. I was ringing to wish you luck for tomorrow. It’s tomorrow, right?’
I’m surprised he remembered. He never really took an interest in my career. ‘Yeah, thanks. I was just thinking about getting an early night.’
‘Oh, okay, I won’t keep you then,’ He sounds disappointed. ‘I’ve boxed up the rest of your things.’
‘Oh, right,’
‘There’s no rush,’ he adds. ‘If you’re free sometime, it would be nice to catch up.’
It would? Catch up on what? How many women he’s slept with since I left? It’s nice that we’re still on talking terms, I did spend four years with the guy, but he’s taking the whole “let’s be friends” role a bit too far, treating me like one of his mates and filling me in on all of his latest conquests. I don’t care, but I also don’t want to hear about it.
‘Sure, I’ll ring you.’ I suggest.
‘Make sure you do, I miss you.’
WHOA! Where did that come from? Is he drunk? ‘You do?’ I ask. The shock in my voice is quite clear.
He laughs. ‘I do. Good luck tomorrow.’
I hang up and sit wondering if it’s time to collect my things and sever all ties. I’m not so sure the friend’s scenario is going to work with us. Does it ever work? My phone rings again, but it’s a number that I don’t recognise.
‘Ava O’Shea.’ I announce down the line, but there’s no reply. ‘Hello?’