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‘Once? Are you saying you’re not any more?’
She shrugs, her eyes leaving mine, and I sense a chill coming over her. ‘There’s not so much a call for it.’
‘Entertaining?’
She wets her lips and gives a little laugh, but it’s sad. Lonely even. And I have to fight the temptation to reach for her, to make her look at me. ‘I can’t believe a woman like you no longer entertains.’
Her smile is small. ‘Nathan was the socialite really. He was the one with all the friends.’
‘And now...’ I place my glass down on the stainless-steel centre island. ‘When w—’
‘Wait!’
She leans across the island and takes what looks like a concrete coaster from the middle, sets it down beside my glass and places it on top. ‘Sorry, that’smyforce of habit. Nathan was a stickler for them.’
Not her, though. That much is clear. I’m starting to get the impression that this whole house, the office, it’s all Nathan.
‘When was the last time you had people around?Yourfriends?’
She frowns at me. ‘Why does it matter?’
‘I’m just curious.’
Her eyes search mine and she takes a shaky breath, starts to move away. ‘And I should get ready. We don’t want to be late, remember.’
I reach for her on impulse. ‘Hang on.’
Her arm flexes beneath my touch, the warmth of her skin permeating my palm. I want to pull her to me, kiss the surprised look off her face. But I can do neither and what do I really have to say when all I want is her reassurance that she does have friends? That she does have people she can talk to. That her social circle didn’t revolve entirely around Nathan and since he’s gone is non-existent.
Do I really want to expose that vulnerability in her minutes before we head out to a crucial dinner?
Her lashes flicker as she looks up at me and something inside me pulses, squeezes, makes it hard to think.
‘What, Valentine?’ Her voice is soft, husky, her lips glossy from where she’s wet them and Jesus, do I want to be the one wetting them.
‘Just tell me, when was the last time you had people around?’
She shakes her head, her laugh brittle, and the vulnerability I spy in her almost breaks me. ‘You’re my PR advisor, not my counsellor, Boretti. I’m going to get ready.’
And with that she sweeps out of my grasp and leaves me standing there in a cloud of her perfume, knowing the answer as well as if she’d said it herself.
I turn away, my eyes sweeping around the room and seeing it with fresh eyes. There’s no vibrancy, no fire or spark, colour or warmth. There’s noher.
The strange sensation in my gut swells and I lift my tonic, frown into it before throwing back a swig and wishing for the first time in a long time that it was something stronger.
Olivia
‘When was the last time you had people around?Yourfriends?’
I close the bedroom door and lean back against it, take a breath.
What does it matter? Why do I let him get under my skin?
I’m fine. I’m more than fine.
Though I know the mantra is getting old.
I push away from the door and throw back a gulp of G&T, wincing as the ice-cold drink catches in my throat and my eyes water. It’s just the drink, not the pang his words provoked.
