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.’
‘I know,’ I mumble sullenly, the reminder stabbing at my falling heart. That woman is beautiful, elegant and undoubtedly as cultured and wealthy as Miller. That’s his world – posh women, posh hotels, posh events, posh clothes, posh food and drink. Mine is serving that posh food and drink to those posh people. I need to forget about him. I need to remind myself how aggravated he makes me. I need to remind myself that it was meaningless sex. ‘I won’t be seeing him again.’ I sigh. It wasn’t meaningless sex to me.
‘I’m glad.’ Gregory smiles and takes a sip of his espresso. ‘You deserve the whole package, not just the scraps a man’s prepared to throw when he feels like it.’ He reaches over and gives my hand a comforting squeeze. ‘I think you know he’s no good for you.’
I smile, knowing my best friend is talking complete sense. ‘I do.’
Gregory nods and winks, sitting back in his chair, just as my phone starts ringing from my bag. I grab my satchel from the chair next to me and start rummaging through.
‘That’ll be Nan,’ I moan. ‘She’s driving me loopy.’
Gregory laughs, prompting a snigger from me, too, but I soon halt my happy tittering when I note the caller’s not Nan. My wide eyes fly to Gregory’s.
He soon stops laughing, too. ‘Is it him?’
I nod, glancing back down to the screen, my thumb hovering over the button that’ll connect me to Miller. ‘I’ve not returned his call.’
‘Be wise, baby girl.’
Be wise. Be wise. Be wise. I take a deep breath and answer. ‘Hello.’
‘Olivia?’
‘Miller,’ I counter coldly and calmly, despite my speeding heart rate. The slow, rounded pronunciation of my name spikes a vivid image of his slow-moving lips.
‘We need to pick up where we left off. I have an engagement to keep this evening, but I’ll keep tomorrow free.’ He sounds formal and short, making my heart race that little bit more, but more out of irritation than desire. What am I, a business transaction?