I frown for a moment before realizing he’s referring to Mrs Montague. I’ve always assumed it annoyed Alfie that Mrs. Montague required me to be present during their sessions. Not annoyed because I’m a woman. But because I’m underqualified. Really she’s there to see him, she just doesn’t like being alone with men.
“Oh, really?” I perk up a little at the thought of not having to deal with this date a second longer. A kernel of guilt sits in my stomach. I do hope Mrs. Montague is okay.
“Yes, I’m so sorry. David, you’ll have to forgive me for ending your night early. Lottie, I’ll drop you home,” Alfie says, his voice laced with regret.
David takes his chance. “Oh, I can do that. If these two need to leave, we could stay.”
“No thank you,” she responds immediately. “Alfie is my ride home.”
“I can drive you home. Well, I’d have to call my mom back. She dropped me off as I don’t have a car right now.”
My eyes bug out as I swing my head toward him, hearing Alfie snort behind me. Is there anything more humiliating than your boss watching the worst date in history?
“No thank you. I—"
“Why not?” he says, his tone accusatory.
“Why not what?”
“Why don't you want me to drive you home?”
“I just met you. Why would I want a stranger to know where I live?” she huffs, clearly getting agitated.
Alfie gently pulls her by the elbow, and I say goodbye to David.
“Clearly this isn’t going to work out,” I say, grabbing my to-go box. I’m going to end the night stuffing my face with it when I get home.
He shoots his shot one final time. “Could you give her my number?”
I roll my eyes. Did this have to happen in front of Alfie? I was trying to move on from my disastrous love life, but all it got me was some new embarrassing moments to add to the movie montage of my life. “Goodbye, David.”
“Is that a yes?” he calls out as I walk away.
Despite Alfie insisting on driving her, Lottie is already in a cab. Alfie leans through the open window, kissing her cheek before muttering so low I can’t hear a word. She frowns, shaking her head before facing me and giving me a warm smile and a wave. Alfie then steps back, tapping the back of the cab a couple of times to indicate it is okay to pull away.
I wrap my arms around my middle. Spring is just around the corner but the bite of winter is still nipping at my skin; I hadn’t worn enough warm clothes.
Alfie steels himself for a moment, watching the cab drive away before turning to me.
Goddamn it, just the height of him sets me off. His broad frame. It’s completely the opposite of what I imagine a professional psychologist to look like. I imagine soft, smooth hands, slim physiques. But Alfie is all gravel and rough. He stalks toward me with purpose, like he’s chosen me as his next target. His shoulders fill out his polo shirt, and it tightens a little too much across his chest, as if he’s put on extra muscle since he bought it. Despite that, it suits him. To have something alittle off. It almost makes him more approachable. I laugh for a moment because I’m not approaching him at all. He’s eating up the distance between us with strong, purposeful strides, and I’m cowering, holding myself to protect against the cold. His jacket hangs off his arm, his slacks, a relaxed fit, his cream knitted button-down polo is so unlike anything I’ve seen him wear before. It looks like it should be on some Italian beachgoer. The belt, the fricking biceps bulging out with the corded forearms practically begging to be licked. He’ll need to put those bad boys away before we check on Mrs. Montague or she may faint from the scandal.
“So are we going to the office?”
“No. I’m going to drive you home. It turns out Mrs. Montague won’t be needing us after all.” His voice is clipped.
I stare at him for a moment, and a flash of guilt rips over his face as he breaks eye contact.
“She didn’t really call, did she?”
He pauses for a second. “No.”
I suck in a deep breath. “Why are you here?”
“I was having dinner with Lottie.”
“Did you know I was going to be here?”
“If I did, why on earth would I go to the same place for a date as my receptionist?” he snaps. I bristle at the receptionist remark as I do a lot more than that, and he knows it.
