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“Nicholas, it’s me Natasha,” I reply.
Adrian covers his face with his hands.
“Oh, hello, Natasha. Is everything alright?” he asks gently.
“Everything is great.” I smile as the waitress brings us more drinks. Holy shit, I need to stop, I’m feeling very tipsy. “I’m having dinner with my dear friend Adrian.” I reach over and grab his hand over the table and he takes it in his and picks it up and kisses the back of it. I smile broadly. “We thought we would ring and just say hello. So hello.” I giggle.
I can hear him smiling over the phone. “Hello,” he replies.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m just coming back from my run,” he replies. “It’s early morning here.”
“Are you in Australia?” I ask. “Not France?”
“No, Australia. I don’t go to my French house that much anymore,” he replies.
I hold my hand over the phone. “He’s in Australia,” I whisper to Adrian loudly and he nods and smiles. “Adrian and I are drinking margaritas.” I laugh.
“I can tell.” He replies cheekily.
“Would you like to speak to Adrian?” I ask.
“That would be nice,” he replies and once again I put my hand over my heart as if to swoon. “I will put him on.” I hand the phone to Adrian and he blows out a breath nervously.
“Hello Nicholas.” He listens for a moment and then smiles broadly. “Yes,” he replies. “Have you?” Nicholas just told him that he has been thinking of him, I just know it, and I start feeling very proud of myself. I’m the matchmaker master. I should charge for my services. I don’t want Adrian to feel self-conscious by me listening, so who can I ring? Mum. I pull out my phone and scroll through to the Ms and I dial the number.
It nearly rings out and then a familiar voice that isn’t Mum’s answers.
“Hello, Natasha,” the soft sad voice says.
I frown and then look at my screen. Margaret. Oh shit, I’ve rang Margaret by mistake.
I screw up my face. “Hello, Margaret.”
She stays silent.
“I thought I would just ring you and check on you,” I lie.
“Thank you, dear, I’m ok,” she replies quietly.
I frown and by the tone of her voice I can tell that she’s not, and I instantly feel uneasy.
“Where are you?” I ask.
She stays silent. “Does it matter?” she answers.
“Yes,” I answer and for the first time since this whole thing has come to life I find myself actually thinking of what this woman must be going through alone. “I’m in a hotel in LA,” she whispers.
I frown. “LA,” I repeat. Why would she be in LA? And then her words come into my head: This man is dangerous and my life will be in danger if this comes out.
More silence.
My alcoholic fog instantly dissipates. “Margaret, are you scared of James Brennan? Is that why you are in LA?” I ask.
More silence… and unfortunately the silence is speaking to me more than words at the moment. Adrian frowns at me as he overhears my conversation
“Give me your hotel address. I am coming to see you,” I reply.
