‘That’s the one,’ He points his chocolate digestive at me. ‘It’s all the rage, apparently.’
I chuckle at the thought of Irene in a leopard print leotard, jigging her over generous rump all over the place.
‘Oh, Van Der Haus wants to meet you on Wednesday,’ Patrick winks. ‘They really want you, flower.’
‘Really?’
He laughs. ‘You’re too modest, my girl. I checked your diary and pencilled in twelve thirty. He’s at the Royal Park. Is that okay?’
‘Absolutely,’ I don’t need to check because Patrick’s already took the liberty of doing that for me. And damn if it isn’t going to get me out of enduring this week’s update from Irene. I push myself away from the kitchen worktop by my bum and head for my desk. ‘I’m going to finalise some drawings and email some contractors.’
His mobile starts ringing. ‘What does she want now?’ I hear him grumble.
As I’m getting ready to run over to the deli to grab some lunch, Tom prances up to my desk. ‘Delivery for Ava!’ he screeches at me, placing a box on my desk.
What’s this? I’m not expecting any catalogues. ‘Thanks, Tom. Did you have a good night on Friday?’
He gasps on a grin. ‘I met the scientist. Oh my, but the man is divine!’
Not as divine as mine! I shake my head in shock at my own wayward thoughts. Where did that come from?
‘So, that would be a yes?’ I confirm.
‘Yes. Tell me who that man was?’ He plants his hands on my desk, leaning in towards me.
‘What man?’ I blurt, far too quickly. I retreat in my chair to get some distance from the interrogating presence of my nosey, gay friend.
‘Your reaction speaks volumes.’ His eyes narrow on me as my face burns up.
‘He’s just a client.’ I shrug.
Tom’s scrutinising stare moves to my fingers that are currently playing with a lock of my hair. I release it, quickly picking up a pen. I need to work on this lying business. I’m truly rubbish at it. His tongue moves into his cheek as he straightens himself and walks away from my desk.
What’s wrong with me? So what! I’ve been fucking a handsome, thirty-something man. Or is it forty-something? He’s my rebound fuck. I yank the box open, finding a single calla lily on top of a book that’s wrapped in tissue paper.
‘Giuseppe Cavalli. 1936-1961’
Oh? I open the cover. A note slips out.
Ava,
To me, you are a book I have opened.
I can’t put it down. I need to know more.
Jx
Holy shit! What does he want to know? There’s absolutely nothing to know. I’m just a normal mid-twenties girl. He could start with telling me a few things, like how old he is, for a start. Is it normal to send gifts to someone you’re fucking? Maybe it is for a mature man. I don’t have time to think about this at the moment. I’ve got a heap of emails to respond to and furniture deliveries to chase. I throw the book in my bag, pop the lily in my top drawer and dart over to the deli for lunch, before cracking on.
At six o’clock, Margo hisses and bangs up to the pavement to pick me up. I battle with the rusty handle and finally climb in, pushing a dozen cake magazines and empty Starbucks cups to the floor before I can settle myself on the seat.
‘You need a new delivery van.’ I grumble. Considering how crazy tidy Kate is at home, Margo is the pits.
‘Shhhh, you’ll hurt her feelings.’ She grins. ‘Good day?’ She eyes me warily.
My shoulders slump spectacularly. I got zero work done. Instead, I spent all day thinking about a certain stunning creature of an age I don’t know. I get the book and note out of my bag and hand it to her across the van. She takes it from me, uncertainty marring her pretty, pale features, as she opens the front sleeve and the note slips onto her lap. She picks it up, scans the words and gapes at me.
‘I know.’ I say in agreement to her stunned face.