He chuckled.
“What am I thinking?” I gasped, dramatically. “You couldn’t possibly take a day off work. That would be sacrilegious or something.” I smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll probably go. I wouldn’t want to waste it, and I do want to see more of England outside London before I leave. I should make a list of things I want to do before I head back to the US.”
“Good idea.”
“What about you? Do you have a bucket list? Places you want to see, things you want to do before you hit your next big birthday—which is fifty, right?”
He raised an eyebrow as he dug his fork into his salad. “Be careful, Miss King.”
I beamed at him, urging him to bring it on. I could handle whatever he could dish out.
“My next big milestone will be taking silk, but that’s unlikely to happen before I turn forty. And no bucket list, no.”
“Taking silk is when you become a Q.C., like with the longer wig and shit?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m going all out for the longer wig.”
“You all look a little silly if you don’t mind me saying. I mean, we’re in the twenty-first century and Prada exists.”
He picked up his glass and swirled the wine around. “Which makes it more important than ever that the judge and jury aren’t influenced by anything but the argument. The wig and gown are there so as not to distract from the case. In your country, too much time is spent on what the lawyers are wearing and what they look like. We prefer to practice law.”
He spoke with such authority and conviction that even if what he was saying didn’t make sense, I would have believed him. “I like talking with you,” I said, as I stared into his eyes. I didn’t have a better response, and it was what I was thinking.
“I like talking with you, too.”
I was damn pleased I wasn’t in New York right now. Because of David and the IPO. Because of my lack of career and prospects, but also because there was no place I’d rather be, no moment I’d prefer to be having.
Nineteen
Violet
I was either in the best place on earth or some weird, Stepford wives’ holiday camp. The jury was still out. I tightened the belt to my robe and headed back to my bedroom from the pool, carrying my e-reader. When I’d come to England, I’d been looking for a fresh start, a flash of inspiration. The last thing I’d expected was to be alone at a spa, counting down until the company I’d co-founded went public without me having anything to do with it.
I’d thought my stay in England would be a lot like New York, just with different architecture and accents. But it had been completely different. There’d been fewer cocktails and less sex than I imagined—although what I’d lost in quantity I’d more than made up for in quality with Alexander, even if we’d only fucked once. Nothing was what I expected.
Back in New York, I’d known something wasn’t right with my life but for the first time in a long time, I was actually giving thought to what that was and what I wanted after thirty. I hadn’t come to any conclusions, but I was thinking further ahead than the end of next week.
I passed a couple in matching robes and smiled. Were matching robes in my future? I could move to Montana and live on a farm if I wanted—maybe go to the Cordon Bleu in Paris or move back to Connecticut. There was nothing stopping me going anywhere to do anything.
I let myself into my bedroom and began to get ready for dinner, but before I could step into the shower my phone rang.
“Scarlett, you will never guess where I am! I’m literally living your very privileged life,” I told my sister.
“What, you’re standing in your kitchen, covered in spit-up, deciding whether to clean up dog shit from the yard or change your baby’s diaper?”
“Well, when you put it like that. Maybe for once, I have the better end of the bargain. I’m at the spa.”
“I wish I were at the spa. How is it?”
“Oh, pretty perfect. I went on a hike this morning and then had a full body massage this afternoon. I’m just getting ready for dinner.”
“A hike? You? Who are you? Tell me you haven’t given up alcohol.”
I lay on my bed and stared out at the huge pine tree outside my window as it became a black silhouette against the darkening sky.
“I was worried about you. I didn’t know if you’ve seen the business pages at all.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” There was nothing to say. Scarlett knew the story. Talking about it wasn’t going to change anything. I just wish she or Darcy were here to distract me. “Are you thinking you might come over to the UK while I’m in London?”
“I’ll try but I can’t promise anything. I just wish I could be there now. A massage is just what I need.”
I missed my sister. Our lives couldn’t have been more different, but she and my brother had been the few constants in my world. I hadn’t realized until the last few weeks how much I relied on her as the anchor in my life.
“That’s okay. I’ll be home soon enough.”
“You’re not going to accept the extended contract?”
“Oh, I’m not sure yet. I’m going to see what Craig thinks of my ideas first. But even if I do stay, it’s only another three months.”
“And what about the man situation? It’s so not like you to be man-free for this long.”
I hadn’t told her about Alexander—not that there was anything to tell. Even though he’d asked me to dinner, I was pretty sure he’d forget or be too busy with work. As he’d said, he rarely took an evening off. So even though he was the best sex I’d ever had, and I was completely attracted to him, there didn’t seem any point in bringing it up with Scarlett.
Mini Scarlett, or Gwendoline, as my sister insisted on calling her daughter, began to cry in the background. Scarlett groaned. “I’m going to have to go. I thought she’d sleep for longer. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to talk longer, but I understood that being responsible for a tiny human was more important. “That’s okay. Call me again soon, right?”
“I promise. I love you.”
I slung the phone on my bed and went into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Scarlett might not be here to keep me company at dinner, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t blow-dry my hair and do my makeup as if I had a date with Ryan Gosling.