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GINA’S WAITING FOR ME WITH my coffee when the elevator doors open. “Morning.” I take my caffeine before my trusty assistant can ransack my mind and get in on my thoughts. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“I don’t know. You fired me, remember?” she snipes, tailing me.
I laugh. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Lucky for you, yes,” she mutters indignantly. “Tell me what the hell was going on with you yesterday.”
“Nothing. Tell me about my day.”
I can feel her fire stare nailed to my back. “After the weekly catch-up, there’s a short meeting with the Dior team at ten thirty. You’re lunching with Swarovski at one, and then you have a meeting with Sal from two thirty to three thirty for the monthly strategy assessment.”
I enter my office and drink in the familiar space.
“Oh, and Mac said he’s emailed you the company growth charts you requested.”
My eyebrows rise without instruction. “So you’ve finally stopped hiding from him?”
She scowls. Boy, does she scowl. “Moving on,” she virtually growls, and I tilt my head a little, interested as I throw my briefcase onto my desk and undo my jacket button.
She’s being . . . coy? “You like him,” I blurt, a little stunned. There’s me thinking she was avoiding him because she regretted it. Don’t tell me it was because she actually fancies him and can’t help being all shy and awkward around him?
“He’s all right.” Glancing at her iPad, she clears her throat, trying to feign casualness. Good God, she does fancy him. I’m not sure how I feel about that. And come to think of it, how does he feel about it? It’s me scowling now. If he hurts her, I’ll fire his arse faster than . . . I don’t know what. But it’ll be fast. “Your mother called,” Gina continues.
I take her hint. She doesn’t want to talk about it. But I’ll be watching. Closely. “But I just spoke to her on the way to the office.” As usual.
“She forgot to mention something and tried to call you back. You were engaged.”
I think back, running through my journey to work. Sal. He was picking my brain on the best approach to an introductory meeting we have next week. “I’ll ring her back,” I say, settling at my desk and firing up my computer. “Anything else?” I look up to Gina, not surprised to find high, accusing eyebrows, her arms folded across her ample chest. I smirk, refusing to look. “I would, but I’m not sure how Mac would feel about me eyeing up your puppies.”
Her eyes roll and she pivots. “Idiot,” she says, slamming the door with brute force behind her. I cringe at the loud noise. God, I love her. Grabbing my phone, I call Mum back as I scroll through my emails.
“Tyler, sweetheart.”
“What’s up?”
“I forgot a few things earlier on our call.”
If she mentions Ted, I’m hanging up. “What?”
“The wedding,” she says, and my eyes close, my hand going limp and dropping from the mouse. Fuck, I forgot about that. I think I’d rather talk about Ted and his over-tanned arse. Did Gina RSVP?
“Annika is so happy you’re coming.”
I smile, not because Annika is happy that she’ll be graced with my presence, but because I’ve just had a swift reminder that I can’t live without Gina. I need to find a plus-one pronto. But that I need to do on my own. “I’m happy Annika’s happy.”
“I’m looking forward to spending the day with you, darling.”
I’m suddenly sitting up straight in my chair, a worrying thought coming to me. “Wait, did you get a plus-one, too?”
There’s silence down the line, my usually chatty mother on mute.
“Mum?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Well?”
“Well what, dear?”
“Mother?”
“I’m taking Ted,” she splutters quickly. “As a friend, and we’ll say no more.”
That’s bad luck, because I have lots to say. “Mum,” I start with a pacifying tone, forced as fuck, but pacifying, nevertheless. The thought of him draped all over my mum and having to bear witness to it all day makes me feel physically sick. It’s bad enough that I have to endure the potential of being in close proximity of my ex-wife at my cousin’s wedding. “I don’t like him,” I blurt, the declaration coming from nowhere. Shit. That’ll go down like a lead balloon with my mother. “I mean, I don’t like his intentions.”
“Which are what, Tyler?”
I can see her face in my mind’s eye. It’s twisted, pissed off. I don’t like upsetting my mother, but who else is going to look out for her? “You have a lot of money.”
“So do you.”
“You’re a very desirable woman.”
“And you’re a very desirable man.”
My shoulders drop. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“I’m a big girl, son, as you are a big boy. You don’t hear me dictating who you can see.”
“Point taken.” I sigh. He’s half the man my dad was. What does she see in him? Just a friend? Bullshit.
