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There wassomething so lovely about a surprise.
On the way back from the airport she got the Uber guy to wait while she flew into the deli in Bondi, bought meats and cheeses and fresh baguette and some lovely mixed olives. She’d arrange it all on a platter and have some nice wine ready and chilled in the fridge.
He’d be tired, after his seminar and his flight back from Melbourne, and once they’d eaten she’d run the bath, add some bubbles and they’d lie together and…
She sped across the foyer, ignoring Scarlet’s twinge, waved at Graham, who said something she didn’t quite hear and headed for the lift.
Fifth… sixth… eighth… penthouse.
Bingo.
She headed inside, shopping bag clutched in one hand, wheeling her case with the other. And stopped dead. A man in a suit, with a camera in hand, looked up. “Hello,” he said. “And you are…?”
“And you are…?” Felicity widened her eyes at him.
A woman walked out of Oliver’s study. A very beautiful woman. And Felicity knew from the crawling of her scalp and the bottoming out of her stomach exactly who she was.
“Oh!” They both said in unison. It was like some awful comedy skit. Only this wasn’t funny.
A pair of dark-lashed deep blue eyes swept her from head to foot “This is a little awkward. My guess is you are Felicity. I’m Leonie. Oliver’s…”
“Right. Hi.” Mechanically, Felicity put the food on the kitchen bench. Leonie glanced at the bag and her eyes narrowed. “Oliver didn’t tell you then?”
“We haven’t spoken for a couple of days.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t have.” Like that was obvious. “I’m getting an evaluation done on the apartment. This is Josh from Friedman’s real estate.”
Felicity greeted him on auto-pilot. She saw her hand motioning to the bag of shopping. “I should just put this stuff in the fridge.”
Awkward moments followed while Leonie sashayed around proprietorially, giving Josh orders, and Felicity shoved the food in the fridge, her pulse racing, her mouth chalk dry. Then she dashed to the guest wing, closed the bedroom door and leaned against it. As she looked around, a sense of panic rode up her throat. There was no sign of any of the things she’d bought. No pictures, no brightly coloured ornaments, no lava lamp. Her temples pounded and it felt like the migraine was about to make a reappearance.
Had Oliver agreed to this? Worse, had he packed it all up himself, without telling her? A wave of sickening humiliation spread through her body. She went and flung open the wardrobe. There, neatly boxed up, were all the things she’d purchased. The lava lamp on top, the pictures lined up neatly behind. Hand fisted, she stuffed it in her mouth, trying not to cry.
This was ridiculous.
There had to be an explanation.
She’d call him—no, he’d still be in a seminar. She’d… oh god, she grabbed her phone and re-read his last message.We need to talk about something. Of course… of course.This.
Leonie had come back and already Felicity was being moved out of his life.
She slumped onto the bed, bit back caustic tears, then gulped madly at the sound of a tap on the door. Big blue eyes and a sugar-sweet smile followed. “Can I come in?”
Felicity shoved her phone back into her bag, keeping her head down, hair falling across her face, and tried not to sniff.
“This is kind of surreal, isn’t it?” Leonie advanced into the room. “I think we should have a girl chat. Not here. Are you up for a coffee, or a drink?”
Head still bent, Felicity nodded mutely.
Leonie moved briskly back towards the door. “Okay. I’ll just make sure Josh has got all the photos he needs and we’ll do this thing.”
Ten minutes later the two women walked in awkward silence through the foyer of the building and down the street to the small wine bar on the corner.
“What would you like?” Leonie asked, as they found a quiet table.
“Just water—thanks.”
“Oh, comeon.”
