I stare at my best friend, at her pretty face, which doesn’t look like her father’s at all. She must bear a strong resemblance to her mother, I assume. And I’m thankful for that. It would be harder to lie to her if she was sitting there resembling the man I slept with months ago, and might sleep with again on Saturday.
But I suppose I’ve been lying to her constantly already.
I am a shitty friend. I can’t even pretend not to be anymore.
“It feels…” I pause, struggling to bring my thoughts back to her question. “It feels good to be earning my own money. As long as I’m not beating myself up that it’s not enough or that I’m not working hard enough, it’s nice. It’s a step towards freedom. It will grow, and I’m trying to be gentle with myself. I know from experience that I can’t make anything work if I’m being cruel to myself about it.”
She narrows her eyes. “Do you need more time to get fully established?”
“What do you mean?”
“I can talk to my dad if you want. I’m sure he’ll let you stay longer if I ask him. I can see how much he’s helped you. I reckon he likes it too, you know.”
The hairs on my arms stand up, and I try not to react. “Maybe.”
“It’s crazy for you to have to leave just because I am. There’s so much space.”
“I don’t want to trespass on his generosity much longer. He’s already done so much for me, and I can’t afford to pay him back. Not yet anyway.” I rub my temple, wondering what his hourly rate for business consultancy is, if that’s something he even offers to anyone else. “Probably never, actually, if I wanted to pay him for his time.”
Lizzie smiles. “Probably not, but Dad’s stingy with his time. He always says it’s your most important asset, so don’t give it away freely. Know who you’re giving it to and why. Even as a little kid, he made me ask myself that question. Where is my time going?” She gives a little laugh. “He wouldn’t have helped you if he didn’t want to. I can promise you that.”
Talking about him stirs up my stomach, making it flutter and bubble. I can’t eat, so I push my plate aside and redirect the conversation to Lizzie’s hopes and dreams for her trip abroad.
Later that day, I say farewell to Lizzie before she climbs into a private car to the airport. Rafe is in the back, waiting for her, and the glimpse of him through the tinted window is enough to make my heart race. I don’t get too close, not wanting to draw attention to myself or distract him when all his attention ought to be on his daughter and her departure.
But once they’re gone, all I can think about is him and the fact that we’ve arranged to meet at Delirium tomorrow.
I could come clean. I could tell him everything. I could lay it all out and let him choose. Do you still want the woman from Delirium if she’s me and I am her?
Or I could avoid the potential rejection and have sex with him again without telling him.
I ponder my options for all of thirty seconds, but it’s not even a choice. I can’t risk him finding out andnot choosing me. And to think I would contemplate not going to Delirium is crazy. I’ve never wanted to go to a sex club this much in my entire life. I’ve never wanted to have sex with anyone this much. I’ve never wanted another person so much that being around them and not being able to kiss them or touch them is physically painful.
There’s no way I’m coming clean.
I’m getting really fucking dirty instead.
29
RAFE
Iwork late and show up to Delirium alone. I don’t feel excited; that’s not really what’s going on here. But in my mind, this is an absolutely necessary step in reminding myself that there are options other than my daughter’s best friend, and that I cannot entertain the idea of having any kind of relationship with someone who is fifteen years my junior.
And yet…
I shake my head like I can toss the thought out onto the street where it belongs.
I enter the bar and order myself a scotch, which I down in one, then I proceed to the den. I haven’t made specific arrangements with the beautiful stranger. She didn’t send more details or any other message, so I have no idea where she’ll be or when she’ll turn up.
I can only assume that all she wants is sex, and to be honest, tonight, that’s fine with me.
The lights are dim, the chandelier overhead casting glittering shards of rainbow light like a high-end disco ball. Dark, wipe-clean banquettes line the walls, and on a raised stage in thecentre, which I don’t remember from before, two scantily clad women are performing. The light hits their slick skin as they dance. Neither is blonde like Diana, but for some unfathomable reason, I still see them both as her.
This is horrendous. I’m sick. I must be sick.
Fucking hell.
I wrestle my thoughts under control, determined to keep my mind on the search for the woman I met last time I was here.
