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I’m still so insecure over Jack that the thought of Ant pulling away from me after one date makes me feel sick. I don’t want to fail with another man. Especially one like Anthony Bradstone.
“He’ll want to see you again, don’t worry,” Janie assures me, and I try to believe her.
I’m not nearly so sure as the days roll by, even though Ant’s snippets of conversation have turned into messages that flow a lot more easily.
Damn, I want to see him again.
Memories of our time together drive me crazy.
It’s a few weeks later that I’m watching with pride as one of our brides enjoys her wedding reception. Charlotte’s dad has tears in his eyes as he gives his speech, talking about his baby girl finding her true love and how much she deserves it.
It makes me even more fearful that my dad might never be saying the same things about me.
I’ve been checking my phone for messages from Ant all day long, since he said he’d be back from Berlin this weekend, but nothing has arrived. He’s mentioned dates, and told me he’s looking forward to one, but my nerves are so tense I can feel them in my stomach constantly.
Please, fate, let me see him again.
Charlotte’s evening party is underway when I check my phone for the thousandth time. This time I have two messages, one of which is from Janie, asking how last night went, and thank fuck, YES – the other is from him.
I’m expecting another round of niceties and a let’s meet up suggestion. I’m not expecting the filth that greets me.
I need to hear you say cunt for me, Cass. I need to hear you moan like a slut. Is that what you want too, baby?
I’m in a hot state of shock, staring at the words, because they seem so intense and out of context. I look at the event around me, romantic and sweet. It’s such a contrast.
My fingers are shaky as I type my reply.
I’d love that.
One of Charlotte’s bridesmaids heads past me with a hey. My phone is buzzing again once she’s walked on by.
Where are you?
My reply is instant.
Farley Hotel. Evesham. I’m staying over at the event.
A few of Charlotte’s friends pass in a cluster. They’re laughing at a joke and my heart is racing as I get another message.
How about you take me to your room when you’re done tonight? I promise to fuck you harder than the bride’s taking it.
There’s a forbidden thrill at the idea of Ant being in my hotel room for the night. I don’t know why it feels so taboo. It wouldn’t be unprofessional if nobody knew.
I’m nervous as soon as I hit send.
Yes, please.
One of Charlotte’s sisters comes to thank me and I get caught up in conversation. It’s thirty minutes later that I notice another message came through.
I’m in the car park. Look out the window.
It’s insane how hot it feels to know he must have driven straight over. I walk up to the front windows and there’s his Audi, in plain view. It gives me goosebumps.
I can see you, I type.
Good, he replies. I’ll be waiting. Let me know when it’s time.
Now I know he’s out there, he’s all I can think about. I talk with Charlotte and her new husband, and laugh with their friends and family, but it’s Ant who’s on my mind. I’m so wound up I feel tangled.
When the party calms later, Charlotte and Craig make their exit. I’d usually be focused on staying until the very end, but I can’t. I take a glass of cava from the bar to calm my nerves, swigging it back in one before I send Ant the message.
I’m done. Do you want to meet me at the back door?
No, he says. I’m walking right up to the front.
He’s not lying. He heads straight on in, wearing a darker grey suit than last time, with a deep red tie. He looks insanely confident at someone else’s wedding event, not giving a shit that he’s effectively a gate crasher. He has a bottle of De Chante in his hand, clearly not giving a fuck if the bar staff see him. He walks towards me under flashing party lights, oblivious to everything in the world except me.
“Let’s go, baby,” he says with a smile.
Every step makes me unsteady. I feel his heat at my back as we climb the stairs. My fingers are pathetically jittery as I try to put my key in the lock, so he takes it from me, swinging the door open.
My room is just a basic double. The walls are paper thin, and the bed is small. Nothing whatsoever in comparison to the grandeur of Ant’s suite at the Hanley. Not that he cares. His hands are on me before I say a word, his mouth hard on mine as he kisses me. He doesn’t hold back, and neither do I. I loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt as he hitches my dress up. I haven’t seen his chest yet, not properly. Not sober enough to take notice. He’s toned, with a dusting of grey hair that looks really fine.
