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“How did you meet him?” she pushes. “Was he just there? At Georgie’s wedding? Those flowers definitely aren’t a thanks for being a great wedding planner. No way.”
I’ve come to know Janie pretty well over the past few weeks, but not well enough to tell her the truth. I don’t tell her about how I had too many drinks and he joined me at the bar. I don’t say a word about him ordering De Chante and inviting me upstairs. I definitely don’t tell her that I took his cock and fingers while calling myself a slut for him.
“He was a great guy,” I tell her. “I met him at the evening party.”
She readjusts one of the roses in the vase on my desk. “Well, he’s definitely a gentleman. These are awesome. You’ve landed gold!”
Hell knows how I’m going to make it through until next weekend. Every second is going to feel like a lifetime.
I check my phone all week, hopeful that Ant will start up a conversation, but he doesn’t. I could be the one to reach out to him, but something holds me back. It’s the princess inside me, wanting the prince to sweep in and rescue me from the tower – and the princess is scared. I really don’t want another round of hurt right now.
I breathe a huge sigh of relief when a message pings through on Friday afternoon.
You live in Newton House, yes? Is seven p.m. good for you?
Janie sees me holding my phone and my grin must tell her everything.
“Hot flowers guy?” she asks, and I nod.
“Yeah. The date is still on. Seven p.m.”
“Told you it would be!” she laughs. “Nobody sends an incredible bunch of flowers like that unless they are mega into you!”
Janie is only twenty, and her buzzing confidence is good to be around.
I type out my reply with shaky fingers.
Yeah. Apartment four. Seven p.m. is perfect, thanks.
That’s when it occurs to me. I haven’t told him I live in Newton House. He’s found that out for himself, so I guess I’m not the only one who’s been searching online. He’s done a good job of it, considering I’m still in the process of updating my address details everywhere.
“What are you going to wear? Have you decided?” Janie asks.
I scroll through my gallery app and show her a picture of me in my favourite red dress. Velvet and fitted with a lovely low neckline.
“I’m going to wear my highest black heels with it.”
“That’s bloody gorgeous,” she says, “He’ll want you out of that dress as soon as he sees you in it.”
I wish I shared her faith.
I have a wedding event to attend tomorrow, so I’ll have to be a lot more sensible than the last time he saw me, but that’s a good thing. I’d prefer he didn’t see me in a drunken mess on meet up number two. It wouldn’t exactly paint me in my best light.
“Let me know how it goes,” Janie says when we’re locking up.
“I will,” I assure her.
She’s the only person who knows I’m going out on a date tonight. I haven’t told Michelle about Ant, and I haven’t told my sister or my mum. I’m so nervous that I haven’t told a soul but Janie, and even she doesn’t know anything close to the real story.
I’m outside Newton House when seven p.m. approaches, in the red dress, teetering from foot to foot with nerves. I have my hair loose and down to my shoulders, freshly dyed black, with a soft styled wave. My lipstick matches my dress and I’ve gone for a nice amount of eyeliner, giving me a sultry look I always avoid at my work events. It’s been a long time since I’ve been dressed up like this.
Ant’s early, pulling up in a flash, jet black Audi. I’m almost up to the passenger side when he gets out of the car.
“Wait, please.”
He comes around and opens the passenger door like a gentleman. Another thing I should have expected.
I grin at him. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”
I slide into the seat and he closes the door, walking back around the car with the same regal air I remember of him. He’s in a suit tonight, not a tux. Another designer one, no doubt – dark grey and obviously tailored. It only highlights how gorgeous the salt and pepper of his hair is. He’s greyer than I remember through champagne goggles, and it looks incredible with his navy blue tie. He seems new-rich, and I love that. Like he’s the creator of his own destiny.
He drops behind the wheel and smiles at me.
“It’s lovely to see you again,” he says, and I feel my cheeks burning.
“Ditto.”
“You look truly stunning.”
“Ditto again,” I say with a smirk.
He smirks right back. “Have you been thinking about me?”
I love his natural confidence, and it transports me straight back to last weekend. The way he talked so freely, without restraint.
