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I picture his handsome face marred by a frown. Mouth pinched, thick, dark brows furrowed and a long finger pushing back his black-framed glasses in a gesture of irritation.
“Thank you for understanding. I have to go now. See you in a few days.”
I bid Reda goodbye and hang up, shaking my head.
He’s a great guy. Kind, good looking, a successful lawyer, and that British accent… After all this time in the UK, I’m still not over it. Probably will never be.
Everyone tells me how lucky I am to have Reda. And I know he’s serious about us, but I’m just not sure I’m there yet. We met at a friend’s dinner party and just hit it off. We were seated next to each other and chatted the whole evening. A few days after the dinner, I was surprised when my girlfriend, our hostess, told me Reda asked for my number. I honestly had more of a friendship vibe from our encounter, but I wasn’t about to turn down a good-looking, well-established single man. As a twenty-five-year-old busy consultant for a multinational firm, living an ocean away from my family and closest friends, my opportunities to meet potential life partners are limited. And Reda is great… on paper. I’m just not sure we fit. The more time we spend together, the more I question the depth of our connection.
I rub my forehead, shaking off my grim thoughts, and step into the reception area of the Soho Mayfair social club. I’m meeting a client to discuss the next phase in our current assignment for his tech firm. This is one of the many facets of London I love, holding business meetings in the refined setting of private members’ clubs. Taking the corporate world outside of conference rooms.
“I’m here to meet Mr. Greenfield,” I let the hostess know.
As she’s about to let me in, a deep masculine voice calls from behind me, “Mia? Mia Seydi?”
I turn around and come face to face with my long-lost childhood crush, Barrett Adam. We must be wearing mirroring expressions of incredulity, stunned to find ourselves in the same place after years of not seeing each other, and so far from home. I giggle, my seven-year-old-self coming out to play at the sight of her favorite person in the world. Hearing the silly sound I just made, I know I need to rein it in before high-school-Mia takes over.
Clearing my throat, I use my best grown-up conversational voice, “Barrett Adam. It’s nice to see you.”
“Same here. Shit, it really is a small world,” he answers, watching me with rapt attention. His smile isn’t too forthright, but there’s a definite glint of interest in his dark brown gaze…
“It is, indeed. Who’d think two Cali kids would find themselves in the same fancy London club?” I tease, showing off my adulting skills like it’s nobody’s business.
Barrett’s low chuckle lets me know the man has changed quite a bit. His rich brown eyes haven’t once wavered from mine since we started talking. He’s smiling broadly and standing close to me.What happened to the quiet, reserved Barrett?!
He shakes his head with incredulity.
“This is crazy. Are you a member here?”
“No, I have a meeting with a client who is. What about you?”
“I have a meeting, too. And I’m a member.”
He’s just as tall and handsome as I remember. No, better actually. Towering over me, dressed in an impeccably cut charcoal gray suit. Almond-shaped eyes twinkling with excitement. The guy BULKED UP! When we were in college, he’d already filled in nicely. But now? He’s turned into a deliciously thick man.Good God.
“What time’s your meeting?” Barrett asks, his strong, white teeth biting down on his full bottom lip.And holy shit, that’s sexy.
I clear my throat and respond with a hint of iciness, “I actually need to get going. It was nice seeing you again, Barrett.”
“Whoa, not so fast,” he interrupts. “I want to hear everything about what you’ve been up to. Let’s exchange numbers.”
I hesitate for a beat before nodding, and we trade electronic business cards.I throw Barrett a rushed goodbye over my shoulder, and hurry inside the club to the table where my client is waiting, bringing my full attention to my meeting, and pushing away thoughts of my darn blast from the past…
***
As soon as I exit the Soho Mayfair, I send an audio message in my group chat with my sister and Halima.
“You’ll never guess who I bumped into.”
Halima is the first one to respond. Newborn baby or not, that girl always makes time for a juicy gossip.
‘WHO?!’ she texts in all caps.
‘Barrett!!’ I reply in stride.
‘Swear!!’
‘I swear!!!’ I type back, snickering at the tone of our exchange. In the span of a short text message exchange, we’ve regressed by a solid decade.
