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‘So we’re not buying it?’
I cross one ankle over my knee, assuming a look of nonchalance when all I can think about is the way Jessica spoke to me yesterday morning, revealing her innermost thoughts for the direction she wants to take her business in.
‘Not for now.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not sure she actually wants to sell.’
‘So?’ Dimitrios reaches for his mineral water. ‘Since when has that ever stopped you? Make the offer better.’
I dig my heels in. ‘Nah. I’m just going to wait and see.’
‘Wait and see? What the hell’s got into you?’
I stand up, frustrated, uncertain, because Dimitrios is right. A month ago I would have simply gone in for the kill. Everyone has a price—even Jessica Johnson. But pressuring her in any way is something I’m not willing to do. This is her decision and it should be on her terms. And if that means she accepts an offer from someone else?
I ignore the sense of panic.
I know it would be the wrong decision for her business. I know anyone else is going to want to have a say in her operations.
But it’s her business, her decision. In less than a week, she’ll be out of my life. For good.
It’s what we agreed, so why does the prospect of that fill me with an ache in my chest now? Why does the idea of never seeing her again make it seem as though I’m drowning?
Because she’s not like anyone I’ve ever known.
The answer comes to me quickly. It’s obvious.
Jessica is—so easy to be with. She’s fun, smart, sexy, different. I just like spending time with her. My lips form a grim line, because I see the difficulties in reaching that decision. I see the difficulties before me.
Liking spending time with someone is only a very short step away from liking someone. And I do mean in the ‘like like’ sense. I mean in the halfway to ‘love’ sense, and, Jesus Christ, not for a billion dollars would I even think about going down that hellhole again. I learned a lesson I shouldn’t have even needed to be taught.
I focus on the building across from us, the highly tinted windows making it impossible to see in, the sun glinting off one of the sides in a dazzling display of golden light.
Besides. It’s the last thing Jessica wants. I think back to the first night we met, when we were both so scathing of love and commitment, both so completely on the same page when it comes to relationships. I think about a few nights ago when we fought and then made love and I told her in no uncertain terms that what we were doing was meaningless sex.
My gut twists uncomfortably.
I said it because I knew she wanted to hear it—she needed reassurance that nothing between us had changed, that I wasn’t trying to buy her into my life by buying into her business. Because she doesn’t want to be in my life beyond Christmas.
I expel a long, slow breath, telling myself I feel reassured by that. Placated. Because she’ll go back to London and I’ll get on with my life and things will be as they always were. After Emily, I found the best way to get on with things was to fuck around. I have a reputation for being a playboy and, hell, I’ve earned it. I have enough women’s numbers in my phone to last me a lifetime.
Jessica will leave and I’ll get back to my normal routine.
Why does that feel so strange to contemplate?
‘Anything else?’ I turn around to see Dimitrios has packed up and is standing by his office door.
‘You’re in a rush.’
He lifts his left hand, showing me his wedding band. ‘Newly-wed, remember?’
‘Right.’ I contemplate that—how he’s managed to shake off the impressions of our childhood and take the leap into marriage when the very idea leaves me ice cold.
And I come back to the same conclusion I reached at their wedding: he met the right person. And for the right person, you change everything you ever thought you felt. For the right person, you move heaven and earth to be together.
If you believe in all that shit—which I don’t.
