Jesse knocks Sam’s knee, which, in turn, dislodges the neck of the bottle from his lips, making beer dribble down his chin. “What?” he questions.
Jesse’s eyes roll dramatically, his big chest expanding under his Ralph Lauren shirt on an inhale. “You practically trampled a guy.” He toasts me with his glass. “That’s a fucking huge red flag, mate.”
I stare at my bottle moodily. “He was a cock.” Sam and Jesse both laugh. “I’m glad you two are finding this amusing.” I’m in fucking bits here.
Sam’s palm lands on my good shoulder. “It happens to the best of us, my man. I have fucking battle wounds from the cat-and-mouse games Kate had me playing, and worst of all I didn’t even realize I was fucking playing. Women do that. Make you lose your sense and perspective.”
I cannot believe I’m taking advice on women from these two chumps. They are the worst example of how to get the woman you want. But one thing is for sure: I already have battle wounds. Some of them visible. Some of them not so much. I rub my forehead, trying to stem the building headache.
I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life. My next move is crucial. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew where exactly I wanted to be. I’m forty this year, and I was content with all I am, what I have, where I was heading, until an intriguing young woman turned up at Hux and ground that all to shit. The only woman in my life to make me stop and think for a moment. Think about everything. Analyze everything. Damn her.
I could ask her not to go, simple as that. Except it isn’t that simple. What would that mean? Commitment on my part? I laugh at the notion. I can’t give her that. The only female I’ve ever been committed to is seven years old and wears pigtails. Asking Raya to stay would mean telling her about Georgia. And introducing Georgia to a woman is out of the question unless that woman is guaranteed to be in my life forever, and that’s never guaranteed. Besides, that’s assuming Raya would want to meet her. She might run for the hills at the news that I have a daughter. Raya is twenty-four. I’m touching forty.
I laugh out loud, prompting peculiar looks from Jesse and Sam. What am I thinking? Why am I even wasting time playing tug of war in my head? Raya’s leaving the country, and she seems quite content with that. Anyway, my personal life has no room for any female except Georgia. Back to reality.
“Hey, boys.” Kate breezes into the bar, her vibrant red hair in a low ponytail over one shoulder. She has a customary smudge of frosting on her cheek that Sam makes quick work of licking away when she sits on his lap.
“I need your help delivering a cake,” she tells him, taking the beer from his hand and setting it on the bar.
“What do I get in return?” He grins, and Kate dips, whispering something in his ear. Then she stumbles from his lap, laughing when he shoots up and declares his departure. “Would love to stop and continue with the therapy session, but I’ve had a better offer.” Seizing Kate’s hand, he all but hauls her out of the bar.
“Therapy session?” I say to his back, turning my moody glare onto Jesse when he chuckles. “What’s so fucking funny?”
“Nothing, Drew. Absolutely nothing.” He picks up a text on his phone, and the glint in his green eyes, the glint that’s always there since he met his wife, reflects off the screen.
“Ava?”
“Ava,” he sighs, tapping out a quick reply. “Her parents are taking the kids out this weekend.” His eyebrows waggle cheekily, no doubt making plans for the alone time he’s going to get with the love of his life. For the first time I can remember, I’m envious of my friends’ contentment. Both Jesse and Sam are still head over heels, eight years later. I honestly never thought they would find women who could handle them. And now it’s just me. It never bothered me before now.
“She’s too young for me anyhow.” I say to myself. “And Georgia is my priority. There’s no room in my life for much else.”
Jesse smiles to himself knowingly. “You could leave Hux behind, because I’m damn sure that would leave a space to be filled.”
“I like it, though. It’s easy. No commitment. No expectations. No drama.”
“Yeah, because your life isn’t a soap opera right now, you twat.”
I scoff. That will soon be resolved. Raya will be leaving when the house is sold and my life will be back to normal. All of this weird shit going on in my head. All these alien feelings. Gone.
“Anyway, you sorry motherfucker.” Jesse slides off his stool and slaps my back. “I have to get home to my beautiful wife.”
He strides out, and my phone rings. I sigh, answering Andrea. She sounds excited. “The lady, Annie Ryan, the woman who viewed the rundown Georgian in West London. Remember?”
“Yeah.”
“She loved it,” she declares happily. “Offer on the table and accepted.”
“That’s great.”
“And we have an offer on Raya Rivers’s place.”
My grasp tightens around the tumbler on the bar. “That’s good.”
“Full asking, too.”
“Just like that?” The knife that’s been wedged in my side since I left Raya’s earlier twists. Harshly.
“Have you put the offer to Miss Rivers?”
“Straight away.”
“And she accepted?”
“Well, of course.” Andrea laughs, quite rightly since it’s a daft question. And the knife doesn’t just twist; the motherfucker plunges deeper. “The solicitor is already on it. Surveys arranged, contracts being drawn up.”
How prompt. Anyone would think she’s desperate to leave. “Great. I’m on my way back.” I hang up, finish my beer, and drag myself out of the bar before I drown myself in alcohol. The few streets’ walk feels long, my legs heavy, my hands deep in my pockets.
By the time I make it there, Andrea is getting ready to leave, and the rest of the office empty.
“Are you okay?” she asks as she pulls on her coat.
“Fine.” I smile curtly, my way of telling her she’s my employee, not my therapist, and usher her out. “See you tomorrow.” I put the door between us, then close my eyes and relish the silence. I drop to a seat and sink my head into my hands. Don’t think. Don’t think. Do not think about her, Drew.
“Hello?”
I look up and find a young woman by the door, laden with files and a laptop case, a slouchy leather bag slung over her body.
“Can I help you?”
Her green eyes take in my slumped form as she blows her dark hair from her face. “I’m here to drop off some paperwork for Andrea. My name’s Annie Ryan.”
“You bought the Georgian apartment, right?”
Her eyes sparkle excitedly. “That’s right.” She holds up some papers. “Andrea wanted me to sign these.”
“I can take them.” I drag myself up with too much effort and accept the envelope.
“Can I get a copy?”
“Sure.” I motion to the soft seating by the door. “Take a seat.”
“Thanks.” Her bags spills onto the seat, her arse dropping down soon after. “I haven’t stopped today.”