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I say nothing and put a spoonful of dessert in my mouth. I encourage Jasper to do the same. I want to defend Caleb, but his behaviour tonight has deeply upset me.
‘So…’ Jasper continues. ‘Do you want to bum around Notting Hill Market tomorrow? I can come and get you.’
‘Exciting! What are you trying to buy?’
‘I’m asking you out on a date, Scraps. Taking it back to square one. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what you said and you’re right. We skipped a lot the first time round. If we’re going to try again, let’s try properly.’
I’m not ready to leave the friend zone yet. I know we kissed and it was nice, but I don’t want to be attached to Jasper again. I need to keep things clear; but I can see he’s nervously holding his breath. He knew it was a leap, but he took it anyway.
‘Sure. How about I come to you instead and not call it a date, so there’s no pressure?’
I actually hear him exhale.
‘Great. Noon?’
‘Perfect. If that’s the case, let’s get you a cab. I better get some sleep.’
We finish our desserts just as the car arrives, and I walk him to the door.
‘I’m glad we did this, Aari. I made so many mistakes, I couldn’t see a path back. I thought I’d really messed up and we were done.’
‘I’ve done some pretty unforgivable things to you, too.’
‘I’d forgive you for anything.’ He plants a soft, full kiss on me one more time before he leaves.
I close the door, put my back against it and stare at the space Caleb slapped on the kitchen island. Jasper is wrong. He won’t forgive me for Caleb; he said as much at lunch, and I just lied to him. I look at my watch. 00:45. This time only a couple of weeks ago, I was on that counter with Caleb’s head between my thighs.
I run into my bathroom and throw up tonight’s meal.
I can’t carry this.
TWENTY-EIGHT
CALEB
The last week has been shit, but the last forty-eight hours were a firefighting nightmare and, in one particular instance, a fire-lighting extravaganza. I’m still getting contracts cancelling out of Singapore. We are getting paid, but the bottom seems to be falling out of the actual projects. So much so, that I broke my own rules and got in touch with Mel, asking if everything was all right. Mel, of course, told me everything was fine, but said I’d have to fly out to see to the finer details.
I scheduled a Monday-to-Friday trip in two weeks. Work authorised it in a flash, with Piers happily offering to accompany me. For someone who is supposed to be growing an entire continent, his workload seems surprisingly light. He’s probably fuming. Ariella was gracious when she told me she’d ended her friendship with him. Rumour has it, she told him to sling his hook right in the middle of the office and everyone heard. Since then he’s been cosying up to Nicole. That’ll be fun to watch. Nicole is a beast and she’ll eat Piers up like an amuse-bouche.
Home hasn’t been great either. Ever since Ariella announced that Jasper could be back in the picture, I’ve wanted to smash everything in sight. The worst I thought I had to deal with last weekend was some horny Norwegian being more suggestive than Ariella was comfortable with, not Jasper wooing her by text.
I swear he does it on purpose. He waits for her to go away and then slides into her inbox. Of course, he managed to destroy his chances after Zambia with his behaviour at that lunch, so it’s only a matter of time before he screws up again. I even toyed with having him and Zachary over for dinner to hurry it along, because Ariella is unbearable at the moment.
She was so bloody happy about exchanging texts with Jasper that, every time I touched her and she responded to me, unbearable guilt invaded her face. By Monday evening I’d grown a conscience, and stopped playing with her trigger points. Instead, I focused on trying to get Singapore to stop the cancellations, training myself, training the boys, avoiding Nicole and staying away from Ariella.
Lara, however, has been unintentionally entertaining. She started sending me nudes, asking me to guess who Ariella would prefer. When she got bored with that, she moved on to pictures of what she thought my junk looked like, with running commentary. It was actually quite funny. I won’t admit it publicly, but being trolled by Lara is one of the more surprisingly fun things to have happened this week.
When I saw her name pop up on my phone on Friday with a picture attached, I was expecting more of the same, so I ignored it. Just as I was about to leave for the day, I finally turned my phone over to open it. Surprisingly, it was a bottle of Glenfiddich.
You need to drink with me tonight. I don’t want to be seen in public with you so I have found somewhere hidden. Flirt with me once, I’m leaving. 10 Lower Ground, Candover Street. Text when you get there. Don’t press the bell.
I was curious. Jack wasn’t returning my texts and Tim was working. I had no plans, other than to go home and drive myself crazy thinking about what Ariella and Jasper were up to at their dinner. Ugh. Lara it is.
The residential-looking door is tucked tightly under a small stairwell. Lara emerges when I text and leads me through a small, dark room, softly lit like a Prohibition-era drinking den. There is a burlesque act on a tiny stage moving to some slow music.
‘She’s not a stripper, lechy-eyes,’ Lara informs me as she parks herself in one of two armchairs next to a small round table. She has already started on the bottle. A bald guy in braces silently drops off an additional glass and an ice bucket at our table.
‘This place is amaz—’
