Page 115 of (Not) The One
I’m going to need to get a new winter coat. Something roomy with space to grow,I consider, hanging it up.
‘Didn’t you hear me? The hot courier was asking after you—the one with the tattoos.’
‘That’s nice.’ I smooth the wet strands from my face, shooting her a disinterested smile as I make my way to my desk.
‘Nice? The man is hot! And he’s hot foryou.’
‘Eh.’ My expression scrunches as I slide into my seat. ‘I’m not interested.’
‘Help me out here, Heather. He asks questions about Mir every time he visits, doesn’t he?’ Both our gazes glide Heather’s way, Olivia’s seeking an ally, mine delivering a warning.
‘Some of us are too busy and too wise to get involved,’ she mutters before looking up. ‘Although, if he’s looking for romance, he’s come to the right place.’ My stomach tightens then relaxes as she adds, ‘We should sell him a subscription.’
Olivia smiles as though this is the best of ideas. ‘Yeah, you might pull him up as a match.’
Or she might get one of the boffins upstairs to force it from the backend. That’s not as dirty as it sounds, by the way. Still, I need to put a stop to this. I know we’re in the business of romance, but matchmaking in the office is a step too far.
‘I’m sort of seeing someone,’ I murmur nonchalantly as I wiggle my computer mouse, my screen flickering to life.
‘Youarea dark horse, miss lady. Why didn’t you say something earlier?’
I shrug shortly. ‘It’s new.’
Olivia nods as though she gets what I’m saying, even if what I’ve just implied isn’t true. Are James and I new? Yes and no. Ten weeks and counting, according to my pregnancy tracker. But you might say our relationship is on an accelerated track in some ways. Or you might say we’re not in a relationship at all.
A sexual relationship, yes.
A relationship of respect and trust.
But a romantic relationship? Nope.
I like James. I like him way more than I should. I might even love him if I could allow myself. Take away the issue of money and the differences in our ages, and we might almost have been made for each other. We get on well. Really well. We both like classic British film, my favourite being the black comedies likeThe Ladykillers, while his tastes lean more toward thrillers andThe 39 Steps. We both believe in the restorative properties of a bacon sandwich smothered in Heinz tomato sauce as the perfect hangover cure, not that I’ll be having one of those for a while, and we both agree that dogs are far superior pets to cats.
He’s gorgeous, has impeccable taste in clothing, and what he’s packing in the Coke can stakes is quite enormous. Add in his magical tongue and the fact that he’s also been an exquisite reminder of just how one human should treat another, and he’s almost perfect. I could go on because he’s smart and he’s charming, kind and funny, and when I’m feeling fearful, he tells me I’m amazing and that I’ll be the yummiest of mummies. He loves his father, and he loves ice cream, and he loves the idea of being a father himself—but despite all these things, I just can’t let my heart take that final leap.
Even if I want to.
Sorry, Haribo. But I’m doing this for us both.
‘That is a very pensive look. Penny for them?’
‘Sorry?’ Coming back from my tangled thoughts, I meet Oliva’s gaze with a bright and probably vacant smile.
‘I said a penny for your thoughts.’
I contemplate how radiant Olivia looks in her navy blue woollen dress. Her hair is sleek, and her knee-length brown leather boots are super shiny. I think fashion is what I like best about autumn. Or maybe crunching through leaves. Actually, I think I like the crisp mornings best. As well a new coat, I’m going to need some new clothes. Baggy jumpers. Warm leggings. Maybe a pair of chunky, funky boots.
Pregnancy doesn’t mean I have to be mumsy.
‘There she goes again.’ I turn back just in time to see Olivia’s exasperated reaction.
‘My thoughts are worth way more than a penny, especially when I’m thinking about your wedding. It’s not easy, you know,’ I add, my tone slightly aggrieved. ‘Most people take years to plan a wedding.’
‘Why do I feel like I’m being managed? I get enough of this at home, you know.’
‘Ha. As if anyone could manage you.’
‘It doesn’t stop Beckett from trying, let me tell you.’
