“Look, you can set expectations. You can say to him, ‘Let’s go out for dinner and see if we’ve got anything to talk about outside the office’. Baby steps. You don’t have to leapfrog into bed. If you want to take your time, you can. But personally, I don’t see how you can keep your hands off his fine tushy.”
“I’ll tell Fiona you said that.” But I’m beginning to see the merit in what she’s saying. I’ve had dinner with Anders before but invariably we’ve talked about work, work colleagues, or work competitors. If we exclude those topics, we might sit at the table with nothing to say. Then I’ll be able to put him back in the ‘like not lust’ box.
“I showed her the pics. She agrees with me. We both think you need to put Mike behind you. And you won’t break that last hold until you move on physically. It’s human nature. We’re programmed to form bonds with the people we have sex with. The more sex, the stronger the bond. Did you know that men who use prostitutes regularly often end up going back to the same one again and again?”
Obviously, the programming malfunctioned in Mike because we were fucking like rabbits and he still walked. But maybe I have been putting off breaking this one last bond. Not because I want him back, but because Effie means we’ll never completely be over.
I’m all twisted up in my brain. I’m not actually sure what to think anymore. Am I thinking about a date with Anders because he likes Effie or because my body is sending me unmistakable signals of carnal lust or because I’m ready to move on with my life? Or possibly a mix of all three?
Dana must spot that I’m wavering because she adopts full bulldozer mode.
“You tell Effie you’re working late on Friday, and I’ll be picking her up. Make sure you let her childcare know. I’ll bring her back to mine and feed her. She can have a sleepover with Max. You,” she fixes me with a deadly stare, “have got to promise to talk to Anders.”
She’s like a terrier after a postman. I’m not going to escape. I let my shoulders drop. “Okay,” I say, capitulating. “Now, can we go to the park?”
My sexual revolution has to wait. Anders is out most of this week and when he’s away, I’ve no time for play. Not only are there extra issues to sort on behalf of my boss but when he’s abroad, people bring their issues to me instead.
By the time Thursday swims around and Anders returns, I've had enough time to work myself into a tizzy. I've practised what I want to say a hundred times, but still standing outside his door, I'm nervous. As I knock, all my words desert me.
It's even worse when I open the door to find he's not alone. Scarlett is with him.
“Am I interrupting?” I ask. I can’t work out whether a reprieve would be good or bad.
“Not at all. Scarlett and I were just finishing up,” Anders says, his eyes fixed on his computer. His head lifts slightly in her direction. “I don't have anything free until Friday. But it will have to be late, I'm afraid.”
Shit.I should have thought of this. The image of Dana’s doubting face if I don’t get this done spurs me on.
“I'm sorry,” I interject hastily. “You might be busy tomorrow night.”
Anders turns his gaze on me. “There's nothing in my diary.”
“I know.” I bite my lip. Ad-libbing is not my forte. “Something has just come up. I need to talk to you about it.”
Anders looks at me expectantly, and I look at Scarlett. “It's delicate,” I say.
He finally seems to get the message. He turns to shepherd Scarlett to the door. “I'll have to get back to you,” he says.
When the door is firmly closed behind her, he turns towards me. “Who's resigned?” One hand lifts to scrape through his hair. It's already messy and the working day has only just begun.
But Anders doesn’t wait for my reply. “Ah, jeez. It's not you, is it? I don't think I could stand to lose you.”
I'm both gratified and taken aback. Have I done or said anything to give him that impression?
“No, it's not me,” I stammer. “Well, it is. But not the way you think.”
Two fierce orbs of blue freeze me in place. Unfortunately, they also rob my mind of thought.
“Explain,” he says, his alarm evidently robbing him of all manners. Anders is often brusque around me; we've worked together long enough to drop the niceties and the dancing around often required with others. But this is curt, even for him.
“I'm not resigning.” I get the important words out first. “But I thought you might be busy Friday evening. Effie…”
“Of course,” he interrupts. “The museum. I haven't forgotten.”
“No, that's not it at all.” I pause. Now that it comes to it, my courage seems to have evaporated. How do people do this so often?
“Cora.” His tone sharpens. “You've got me worried. What's going on?”
I take a deep breath and steel myself. “Effie is going on a sleepover Friday night. I wondered if we could get dinner together?”
