‘Well, I figured as much when he returned with a face like thunder and turned up at the bistro yesterday.’
He was angry? Strangely, that delights me. ‘There you have it, then,’ I flip casually, grabbing a tray but delaying my return to the bistro front. She’s not finished yet and she’s still in my way.
‘He was with that woman again.’
‘I know.’
‘She was all over him.’
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.