Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 202638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1013(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 675(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 202638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1013(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 675(@300wpm)
‘I’m coming.’ Jesse chucks the remaining half of his BLT down on his plate and gets up from his chair.
‘It’s a two minute walk around the corner.’ I say tiredly. I halt any further objections when he glares at me, so instead of arguing with him, I make my way around the table and kiss them all goodbye, shoving Kate some money for mine and Jesse’s lunch.
She trusts it back in my hand. ‘Jesse already settled the bill.’
He did? I look at Jesse, but he is too busy shaking hands with the boys’ to notice my reproachful stare. He collects me and starts leading me out of the bar.
‘Hey!’ Kate shouts to my back. ‘Saturday night, girly drinks?’
I stop and spin round to face her, flashing a what-do-you-think-you’re-playing-at look. She doesn’t seem to notice my reaction. No, she is too busy watching for Jesse’s reaction to her request. I turn to look up at him. He’s shifting uncomfortably. Oh Kate! Fancy suggesting something so stupid. I see Sam and Drew both watching intently too, waiting for Jesse’s response.
‘Maybe next week.’ I say as confidently as I can.
‘You can go.’ Jesse says from behind me.
I can go? What does he mean, I can go? ‘No, we have The Manor anniversary tomorrow. I’ll be knackered.’ I affirm. I do want to go, but I know he’ll prohibit alcohol, the bloody control freak. I don’t get legless all of the time, and the last time I did, it was his fault. I’ve got so much to dump on Kate as well. Both of us have, by the sounds of things. This little lunch has only clipped the corners.
‘Hey, he said it’s cool.’ Kate complains.
‘I’ll speak to you later.’ I say dismissively, hoping she will take the bloody hint and shut her gob.
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ She winks. ‘later.’
I want to throw my bag at her, but then I feel Jesse tug me slightly, preventing me from following through on my intention. Instead, I toss another dirty look at her before turning and letting Jesse lead me out of the bar.
We walk out onto Piccadilly into the lunchtime crowd, and I can feel the mild tension between us. He drops my hand and drapes an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side.
When we turn into Berkeley Street, I stop and face him. ‘If I go out, I won’t be drinking, will I?’
‘No.’ he says flatly. I roll my eyes and carry on walking. ‘You can have a drink on Friday.’ He catches me up and replaces his arm over my shoulder.
Yes, I can have a drink on Friday because he’ll be there to watch over me. The problem is, I’m not comfortable drinking in front of him. It wouldn’t feel right, especially knowing his little issue with control and alcohol.
‘Would you get the doormen to spy on me too?’ I grumble.
‘I don’t ask them to spy on you, Ava. I ask them to watch over you.’
‘And call you if I don’t follow the rules?’ I quip, earning myself a little nudge on the hip.
‘No, and call me if you are rolling around on the bar floor,’ he says dryly, ‘with your non-existent dress around your waist.’
I look up at him and find accusing eyes. Okay, yes, I was on the bar floor, but I wasn’t rolling, and I wasn’t steaming drunk. Not that time, anyway. Kate was and she took me down with her, and as for the dress? Well, that’s a trivial issue, and one that’s now in a dozen strips after neurotic man here shredded the damn thing. I could go out, have a couple of glasses of wine, wear something acceptable and not roll around on the floor. Then, no red alert would need to be issued by the doorman. Maybe I could stay at Kate’s so I’m not rubbing his nose in it. I laugh to myself at my ambitious idea. He will never let me stay at Kate’s.
I let him hold me close to his side as we carry on our way to my office. ‘You’ve got to let me go now.’ I say as we near. Patrick might be there and I’ve not mentioned any sort of business lunch with Mr Ward. This is painfully difficult.
‘No,’ he grumbles.
‘What are you going to do for the rest of the day?’ This I really want to know. Please let him say that he’s got a stack of stuff to occupy himself with so I can get to Matt’s and get my stuff without worrying about fobbing him off and lying to him. Withheld information is not the same as lying.
He pouts. ‘Think about you.’
That doesn’t make me feel any better. ‘I’ll be back at yours as soon as I finish work.’ I say, realising instantly that I’ve just lied. I use every ounce of energy to stop myself reaching for my hair.