Before Rachel had a chance to start decoding what he’d said, he went on: ‘I can’t change the past, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make things easier for you right now. Just tell me what you need.’
His eyes were wide, sincere and fully focused on her face. They looked a shade darker today, almost moss-coloured, against a plain black V-neck. Rachel wondered whether Jack might agree to wear a paper bag on his head during office hours;thatmight help.
‘I’ve never forgiven you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m not sure I can.’
‘I never expected you to. I still don’t.’
‘I don’t think you have any idea what it cost me to let you in,’ Rachel said in spite of herself, her voice almost a whisper. ‘To open up, to tell you things that evennowI never talk about. We are never going to be friends.’
She felt her eyes begin to prickle and wished she hadn’t shown weakness – but if Jack noticed that she was on the edge of tears, he pretended not to.
‘I understand,’ he said. ‘We don’t have to be. But given we’re at an impasse, perhaps we could try to be colleagues? Just … see what happens if we behave like civil teammates between the hours of nine and five. Hate me as much as you like during your evenings and weekends, obviously,’ he went on, chancing a tentative smile. ‘Buy a Jack doll. Stick pins in it. Do your worst.’
‘What makes you think I haven’t cast a spell on you already?’ Rachel asked, feeling her lips twist into a half-hearted smirk. She lifted her face to look at him.
‘Good point,’ Jack said, holding her gaze. ‘Perhaps that shiphassailed.’
Rachel let out a loud, long breath, feeling the will to fight on leave her. ‘You won’t quit, and for now I can’t quit. So, sure. Let’s see how it goes,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’ Jack sighed, and stood up. ‘I guess we should be getting back. This meeting room’s probably booked.’
Rachel nodded as he reached out a hand to her. She assumed he meant for them to shake again, this time on their flimsy peace accord – but when she took it in hers he held on gently, pulling her to her feet. She stumbled slightly as she rose and ended up too close to him, almost headbutting his chest.
Jack placed his hands on her upper arms to steady her and she caught that fragrance again. Rich. Intriguing.Sexy, she had to admit. It smelled like a night out with Don Draper – like tobacco and old-fashioneds in a backstreet New York bar.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said a thin, nasal voice. ‘I can see you’rehard at work. But we’re supposed to be in here now.’
It was Donna, with a terrified-looking man in tow. As Rachel skittered backwards, away from Jack and into a chair leg, she thought she recognised him as the wholesaler who supplied the agency’s tea, coffee and snacks. No wonder it was Donna’s job to negotiate with him on the cost, she thought. She couldn’t imagine anyone who’d drive a harder bargain.
‘Of course,’ Jack said, turning to Donna with a megawatt smile. ‘We’ll get out of your way. Rachel, I’ll set up a time for us to talk tomorrow, shall I? Give us both a chance to read through the stuff Isaac sends.’
‘Fine,’ Rachel said, shuffling after him towards the door.
Donna looked her up and down with a smug leer, unable to contain her joy at witnessing what Rachel knew she’d report as a passionate embrace. She made a big show of checking her watch, then said in her signature artificially sweetened tone, ‘Close the door, would you? We need to get on.’
Rachel left the room and stood just outside for a moment feeling tired, bruised and sore. Then she stood up straighter and resolved to get on with her day.
Surely, she reasoned as she walked back to her desk, the worst part of it was already over.
11
When Rachel left the office building just before 6 p.m., she found Laurence lurking outside. He was leaning against a lamp post, trying to appear casual but clearly waiting for her.
He looked up and saw Rachel immediately.Damn it.If she’d had the time, she’d have crept back inside and asked Frank if she could leave by the side door.
Laurence smiled at Rachel sheepishly and thrust his hands deeper into the pockets of his navy trench coat. She tried to smile back but her lips refused to cooperate, instead contorting themselves into a weary sort of pout.
‘What are you doing here, Laurence?’ Rachel asked. She didn’t want to be unkind, but the last thing she felt like doing right now was rehashing her reasons for finishing with him.
‘I was worried about you,’ he said. ‘I’ve sent you texts and emails, and I left a voicemail for you last week. I got concerned when you didn’t reply to any of it. I thought something might have happened.’
Rachel resisted the urge to say, ‘Actually, somethinghashappened – not that it’s any of your business.’
Instead she mumbled, ‘I’ve just been busy. Work has been pretty intense. And without wanting to be mean, you and I have broken up. I kind of don’thaveto reply to you any more.’
‘I never said you did!’ Laurence cried, looking affronted. ‘I just care about you, muffin. And you know I want to talk things over. I’ve been asking to meet for a drink for weeks. Honestly, I think you owe me that.’
Rachel cast her eyes skyward and then brought them back to his face, which was set and sulky. ‘I really don’t see what good it’s going to do,’ she said. ‘And I have asked yourepeatedlynot to call me muffin.’
