Promised

I feel a lump forming in my throat. ‘I know.’

‘But he was clearly distracted.’

Swinging around, I finally face her, discovering the expression that I knew I would; narrowed eyes and bright-pink pursed lips. ‘Why are you telling me this?’ I ask.

She shrugs, her short black bob skimming her shoulders. ‘He’s bad news.’

‘I know that,’ I mutter. ‘Why do you think I walked away? I’m not stupid.’ I should slap myself for my obscenely inaccurate comment. I’m very stupid.

‘You’re moping.’ Her questioning eyes are burning holes through me, and quite rightly, too.

‘I’m not moping, Sylvie,’ I argue feebly. ‘Do you mind if I get back to work?’

She sighs, moving out of my way. ‘You’re too sweet, Livy. A man like that will eat you alive.’

I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I move past her. She doesn’t need to know about last night’s cosy family dinner, and I wholeheartedly wish that there was nothing to tell.

My week doesn’t improve. Nan has been back to Harrods twice with the excuse that George thought her special pineapple upside-down cake was so delicious, she simply had to make it again . . . twice. Her secret hopes of bumping into Miller on the off-chance that he may be there buying more suits had nothing to do with her compulsion to spend thirty quid on two pineapples. I’ve avoided Gregory at all costs after receiving a terse voicemail from him advising me that Nan has been blabbering and he thinks I’m stupid. I know all of this.

I skip breakfast and slip out of the front door, eager to avoid Nan and even keener to get my Friday done and dusted. I have plans to lose myself in the grandeur of London this weekend, and I can’t wait. It’s just what I need.

I pace down the street, my long black jersey dress swishing around my ankles, my face warm under the morning sunshine. As ever, my hair is doing what it damn well pleases, and today it’s wavier than usual as I slept on it wet.

‘Livy!’

Without any instruction, my pace quickens, not that I’m going to get very far. He sounds pissed off.

‘Baby girl, you’d better stop right now or there will be trouble!’

I halt dead in my tracks, knowing that I’m already in trouble, and wait for him to catch up to me. ‘Morning!’ My overenthusiastic greeting isn’t going to wash, and when he lands in front of me, his handsome face distorted with displeasure, I can’t help scowling back. ‘What?’ I snap, making him jump back in shock. I feel irritated with my best friend, yet I have absolutely no right to be. It’s Friday, but he’s in ripped jeans and a tight T-shirt, and he’s wearing a baseball cap. Where are his gardening clothes?

‘Don’t what me!’ he snaps right back. ‘What happened to staying away?’

‘I tried!’ I screech. ‘I bloody tried, but we bumped into him in Harrods and Nan invited him to bloody dinner!’

Gregory jumps back some more, stunned by my unusual outburst, but his chiselled, scowling face softens. ‘You didn’t have to leave with him, though,’ he points out softly. ‘And you definitely didn’t have to stay at his place.’

‘Well I did, and I bloody wish I hadn’t.’

‘Ahh, Livy.’ He steps forward and wraps me in his arms. ‘You should have answered my calls.’

‘So you could just tell me off?’ I mumble into his T-shirt. ‘I already know that I’m an idiot. I don’t need it confirmed.’

‘It near on killed me to see Nan so excited,’ he says on a sigh. ‘Shit, Livy, she was ready to go and buy a hat.’

I laugh because if I didn’t, I’d cry. ‘Please don’t. I can’t take it much more, Gregory. He only sat at her dinner table for an hour or two. She was gushing all over him, and now she’s all confused and wondering why I’m not seeing him.’

‘Cocksucker.’

‘I keep telling you, you’re the only cocksucker I know.’ I feel him laugh a little, but when he pulls me from his chest, his face is serious.

‘Why did you leave with him?’ he asks.

‘I can’t say no when he’s with me,’ I sigh sullenly. ‘Things just happen.’

‘But you’ve not seen him all week?’

‘No.’

His blond brows rise. ‘Why not?’

Damn it, I want to say that I walked away off my own back, but Gregory will rumble me in a nanosecond. ‘It was wonderful, and then it was awful. He was sweet, and then he was an arsehole.’ I brace myself. ‘I told him about my mum.’

I can see the surprise on Gregory’s face, and there is definitely a bit of hurt mixed in there, too. He knows that I absolutely never speak of her, not even with him, and I know he wishes I did. He collects himself and forces the hurt plaguing his face to morph into contempt. ‘Cocksucker,’ he spits. ‘Complete knob-head. You need to be stronger, baby girl. A sweet thing like you will be walked all over by a man like that.’

My nostrils flare and I bite my tongue to prevent my natural reaction to that statement from slipping past my lips. And fail. ‘Oh, bollocks to the lot of you,’ I grumble, making him recoil in shock. I push past him and stomp off down the street.

‘See, that’s what I want more of. A little spunk!’

‘Fuck off!’ I yell, shocking myself with my vulgar language.

‘Ooh, yes, carry on, you filthy-mouthed bitch!’

I gasp and swing around, finding him grinning from ear to ear. ‘Wanker.’

‘Cow.’

‘Tosser.’

He grins some more. ‘Dog.’

‘Shirt-lifter,’ I retort.

‘Tart.’

I recoil, horrified. ‘I am not a tart!’

He pales instantly, realising his mistake. ‘Shit, Livy, I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t bother!’ I storm off, my blood boiling with rage at his insensitive, careless remark. ‘And don’t follow me, Gregory!’

‘Ahhhh, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.’ He scoops me up, preventing me from running away. ‘A stupid word slipped.’ He walks on with me draped across his arms, and I reach up and pull his hair. ‘Twat.’

Grinning, he leans down and kisses my cheek. ‘I had a date last Sunday.’

‘Another?’ I roll my eyes and firm up my grip of his shoulders. ‘Who’s the lucky guy this time?’

‘Actually, it was our fourth date. His name’s Ben.’ A thoughtful, dreamy look washes over Gregory’s face, making me pay more attention. It’s been a few years since he’s had this look.

‘And . . .’ I push, wondering how he managed to keep four dates with the same man quiet. I can’t challenge him on it, though. Not after my lack of sharing.

‘He’s cute. I might like you to meet him.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. He’s a freelance events planner. I’ve told him all about you, and he’d like to meet you.’

‘Oh?’ I tilt my head, and he gives me a shy smile. ‘Ohhhh . . .’ I breathe.

‘Yes, ohhhhh.’

‘Benjamin?’

‘Nooo.’ He narrows playful eyes, continuing with his even strides down the street with me still bobbing up and down in his arms. ‘Just Ben will do.’

‘Benjamin and Gregory,’ I muse thoughtfully. ‘It has a nice ring to it.’

‘Ben and Greg sounds much better. Why do you insist on calling me Gregory? Even Nan does it. It makes me sound like a poofter,’ he grumbles.

‘You are a poofter!’ I laugh, getting a set of teeth sunk into my neck for my trouble. ‘Stop it!’

‘Come on.’ He sets me on my feet and links arms with me. ‘Let’s get your sweet arse to work.’

‘Aren’t you working today?’

‘Nope. I finished my recent project early, and I have a haircut.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I grin up at him. ‘A whole day off work for a haircut?’

‘Shut up. I told you. I finished my project early.’

I smile, wondering why I’ve alienated myself from my treasured Gregory all week. I feel a million times better already.

Chapter 14

No one at work actually asks me if I’m all right because it’s obvious that I am. Or are they just stunned into silence by my chirpiness? Am I being over the top? I don’t even care. Gregory has lifted my spirits. I should’ve seen him earlier in the week.

‘Service!’ Paul yells, prompting me to skip over with my tray, ready to be loaded up. ‘What are you all smiley about?’ he laughs, sliding a Tuna Crunch onto my tray.

Sylvie dumps a load of empties nearby and joins us by the hotplates. ‘Don’t question it, Paul. Just embrace it.’

‘It’s Friday.’ I shrug, twirling and sashaying out of the kitchen with a smile on my face. As I approach the table, I’m confronted with a huge beam, courtesy of Mr Wide-Eyed Luke. My good mood prevents me from being anything but polite, and I find myself smiling back at him. ‘Tuna Crunch?’

‘That’s me,’ he pipes up as I slide it onto the table. ‘You look especially lovely today.’

I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. ‘Thank you. Can I get you another drink?’

‘No, I’m good.’ He sits back in his chair, his warm brown eyes friendly as they regard me. ‘I’m still after a date.’

‘You are?’ I feel myself blush a little and in an attempt to hide it, I start clearing the next table.

‘Can I take you out?’

I’m wiping the table furiously, my hand rotating just as fast as my mind. ‘Yes.’ The word falls from my mouth without me realising, until I hear it with my own ears.

‘Really?’ He sounds as shocked as I feel.

The table is spotless, but it doesn’t stop me from rubbing the cloth over the wood some more. Did I really just accept a date? ‘Sure,’ I confirm, shocking myself further.

‘Great!’

I try to cool down my burning cheeks before I turn to face my . . . date. He’s really smiling now, and he’s scribbling down his number on a napkin. It draws an unwanted memory, which I quickly toss to the back of my mind. I can go on a date with Luke. Actually, I need to go on a date with Luke. ‘When were you thinking?’

‘Tonight?’ He looks up at me hopefully, handing me the napkin.

I take it, pushing my doubts away. I can’t go on like I have, even more so after my encounters with Miller Hart. I need to start living, forget about him, my mother, and start living . . . sensibly. ‘Tonight,’ I confirm. ‘Time, place?’

‘Eight outside Selfridges? There’s a little bar down the side street. You’ll love it.’

‘Great. I look forward to it.’ I collect my tray and leave Luke smiling around the first bite of his Tuna Crunch.

‘Hey, you’re not going to stand me up, are you?’ he calls, his words muffled by his full mouth. That stupid little thing alone reminds me of manners and . . .

‘I’ll be there,’ I assure him on a smile, his mouthful of sandwich while he talks only spurring me on. He might not be in the same league as Miller Hart, but he’s still cute, and his carefree attitude and lack of manners is even more reason to accept his offer.

When I push my way through the swing door, Sylvie’s pink lips are smirking at me. ‘I’m so proud of you!’ she sings in my face.

‘Oh, stop it!’

‘No, really, I am. He’s cute and normal.’ She starts to help me unload the tray, the big smile on her face pulling one from me. ‘Think of it as new beginnings.’

I frown, wondering if I should do exactly that. I’ve not known Sylvie for very long, although it seems like years. ‘I’m just going on a date, Sylvie.’