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The Crescent is a bar halfway between the club and Elizabeth’s apartment, and we all occasionally meet there for a drink. This is the first time Elizabeth and I have met on our own, though, and I head out, conscious that my pulse is racing faster than normal.
The days are still humid and warm, but as we head toward autumn, the nights are cooling down, and I’m glad of my jacket. The sun has almost set, and the streets are flooded with a deep orange light and lengthening shadows.
I’m looking forward to seeing her, but I feel anxious too. I’m not sure why. Maybe because we haven’t yet talked properly about what comes next. I’m hopeful, but she hasn’t texted me today, even though I’ve messaged her a couple of times, and I have an odd feeling that this isn’t going to end well.
I arrive at The Crescent and go inside. She’s not here yet, so I go up to the bar and order two whiskies, choosing the Ardbeg Islay malt I know she’ll like. She’ll be walking because the bar’s not that far away.
The bar is, unsurprisingly, crescent-shaped, and the room is divided into individual nooks that provide places to chat. The decor is all dark wood and dim lighting, making it seem private and intimate. It’s about half full, not bad for a Wednesday night. The music playing is Ella Fitzgerald’sDream a Little Dream of Me.
“Hey.”
I look around to see Elizabeth standing there, and my stomach flips. She’s changed from her outfit this morning, and now she’s wearing black wide-leg pants, a white shirt, and a fawn blazer, with gold bangles and gold hoops hanging from her ears. She looks elegant and sophisticated, and I’ve never wanted her more than I do at that moment.
I wish we were dating, and I could greet her with a kiss and a hug. But despite how great the sex was last night, we’re not officially a couple, and even though I often kiss her on the cheek, suddenly I feel unsure about approaching her.
“I got you a whisky,” I say instead, picking up both glasses. “Shall we sit over there?”
She nods and leads the way to one of the nooks, and we slide onto the benches on opposite sides of the table. Her hair is sleek and shiny, like a sheet of milk chocolate. She’s taken time over her makeup. She’s dressed up for me.
I’m still wearing the suit I changed into for work—navy today, with a light-blue shirt. It’s warm in the bar, and I take off my jacket, remove my cufflinks, and turn up the cuffs of my shirt, more to give myself something to do than anything else. She watches me, her gaze brushing over me like a feather, making a shiver run down my back.
“You look nice tonight,” I say, leaning back again and sipping the whisky.
“So do you,” she replies. “But then you always do. You know how to wear a suit.”
“Thank you.” We’re being very polite. You’d never know we had amazing sex last night. Four times.
She meets my gaze for a moment, then drops hers to her glass and studies the amber liquid. The suspense is killing me.
“Go on then,” I say eventually. “Out with it.”
Her eyebrows rise. “What do you mean?”
“You obviously have something to tell me, and I’m guessing it’s not good news.”
She still doesn’t say anything.
I lean on the table. “Spit it out, for Christ’s sake. You’re making me nervous.”
She inhales deeply, then exhales slowly before beginning. “You know the project I’m working on with Titus?”
“The IVF one?”
“Yeah. I think I told you that we’ve had an incredible offer from a leading pharmaceutical company wanting to invest in the research.”
“That’s great.”
“It is. It’s a significant amount of money—five hundred million dollars.”
“Shit.”
“Obviously, it’s a drop in the ocean where drug research is concerned, but we’re hopeful they’ll stump up some more cash once the first results come through. Titus is thrilled—he’s worked really hard to get them interested.”
I nod. I can’t yet see where this is going.
She clears her throat. “The thing is… they want a senior member of our team to head the project.”
“Okay…”
