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Arianne’s glance darted to her, then away. “I helped Leonie choose all the furnishings as well, but I think all of that has been put into storage—lamp shades, vases, throws—so it probably appears a bit bare at present.” She paused, took a sip of champagne. “That was a terrible thing, we’d never have thought…” Her bright red lips formed a grimace. “But you two.” She tinkled out a laugh. “You’ve both been having suchfuntogether, from what Beau tells me. Fancy getting Oliver camping. Like, wow!” Another sip of champagne and an eyebrow waggle over the top.
Fun. Was that how Oliver had described them to his publisher? Felicity flashed a smile then stared down at her plate of oysters, her stomach churning. Oysters in this swanky restaurant weren’t the same as eating them alone with Oliver in a little shack overlooking the ocean.
Somehow, she got through the evening. Beau was nice and she was fine when they all talked about books. But with Arianne she felt like a fish out of water. She managed, by asking questions and Arianne, luckily, was very happy to talk about herself incessantly. But it was with a sigh of relief that she got in the Uber at the end of the evening with Oliver. She felt flat and somehow false, like she’d been wearing a mask all night.
She was quieter than usual as they got ready for bed.
“What’s up?” Oliver came over and she must have stiffened, because he frowned as he stroked his hands up and down her arms.
She avoided his eyes. “I don’t know… I just felt, uncomfortable I guess, around Arianne. She’s very svelte.”
He laughed. “That’s a good way to put it. She’s a bit precious, I’ll concede. Interior designers can be.”
She looked around the room with all its bright colours. “My tastes are obviously very different from Leonie’s.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Arianne said she’d helped Leonie choose the furnishings for your apartment. That all Leonie’s stuff has gone into storage.” He didn’t say anything, but he did move away and start to unbutton his shirt. Suddenly she burst out, “What’s Leonie like? Because I don’t get a—a sense of her at all. I guess she isn’t into op shop buys and lava lamps.”
He laughed again, but it sounded brittle. “I guess not.”
“She’s amazingly beautiful—from the picture in the back of your book.”
His brows pleated. “Why are you bringing this up now?”
She shrugged, somehow unable to stop herself. “I guess because I haven’t brought it up before.”
Oliver sighed, sat down on the bed. “Ask me if you want, I’ll answer if I can. I just don’t want her encroaching on…” he motioned a hand between them, “this.”
“This?”
“Us.”
“Oh. Well—” She tugged her dress off and threw it onto the bed. “I kind of was wondering about that too actually. You know, whatusis.”Oh, shut up Felicity. She bit her lip, held up her hand, “It’s okay, don’t answer that,” then turned and dashed into the bathroom. “In fact, let’s just stop this conversation right now.”
He called out after her, “Felicity, I don’t mind talking. I’m not avoiding the issue.” Now he appeared in the doorway. “I’m trying to let things pan out, see where it takes us… letting things be… spontaneous.”
Why had she started this stupid conversation? Almost fiercely, she pulled her hair out of the pins that held it in a messy bun on top of her head and shook it out. In the mirror she saw him lean on the door frame, arms bunched across his chest, still with that little frown. “I’m getting the sense my answer wasn’t right?”
“It was exactly right.” She gave a hysterical little laugh. “Forget I ever asked about Leonie. I’m a bit tired and emotional and maybe I drank too much. Or maybe I’m getting my period.”
“Hey, you don’t always have to be bright and bubbly.”
“Thank you.”
He came up behind her and hugged her, buried his nose in her hair. “You smell delicious,” he murmured. “And I mean it, we’ll talk if you want to.”
“Shhh.” She swivelled, placed her fingers on his lips. “I don’t want to. It was just a grouchy moment, best forgotten.”
His lips found hers and he kissed her, long and deep.This,she told herself as her hands snaked around his neck. She could hold onto this. Believe in this.
But later, after they’d made love and she heard Oliver’s breathing deepen into sleep, Felicity lay staring into the darkness. She’d vowed she would enjoy every moment of being here with Oliver for what it was, no questions asked. But here she was neurotically worrying about whether his ex-girlfriend’s taste in decor was better than hers. Trying to force him into some kind of confession of undying love or something. His answer was totally reasonable. He was letting it pan out, being spontaneous. Cool. The problem was, it wasn’t feelingspontaneous. Her feelings were blossoming, deepening and yes, she knew he was crazy attracted to her, but…
Think, Felicity. If you push this any further there will be things, deep things, difficult things on the line.
And then they would need to talk about much more than Leonie’s taste in decorating. About what they could and couldn’t bring to this relationship. Discuss things she’d crammed into dark corners and tried to forget.
She rolled onto her side. Her right side. Away from Oliver, away from the pain.
