Page 120 of (Not) The One
‘Not when you’re with me, I don’t.’
This conversation is going our usual way. Banter and silliness that eventually leads to the bedroom, and I’m fine with that ordinarily. But right now, we need to have this conversation. I’ve laid the groundwork. Now it’s time to bring the dynamite. I didn’t take time out of my day to go and speak with a couple of strangers to let this moment fade.
‘The talking piece,’ I repeat, my voice a little more forthright as I grasp the sculpture in the middle of its turgid length. ‘Whoever holds it—’
‘They’re lucky? Giving, not taking?’
‘Whoever holds ittalks. The other person keeps quiet. Got it?’
‘Oh, you’resomasterful.’
‘Stop pretending you don’t love me for it.’ Her mouth opens with a sharp intake of breath before she closes it again with a snap. While her words go unspoken. I hear them anyway.
I love it.
I love you.
I love your penis.
Any of those would be a step in the right direction.
‘I have it.’ I brandish the piece in her direction. ‘So I talk. Ready?’ She nods. ‘This week, I bought something for the baby.Ah-ah, you don’t have the talking stick so you can’t respond.’ But you can look at me with that small swell of pleasure, particularly as I sense it won’t last very long. ‘I bought this.’ Reaching behind me, I bring the printed brochure between us, placing it in her hands.
‘What—’
‘My turn to talk still. Maybe I should’ve gone with a forfeit,’ I mutter as her gaze falls to the paper as she begins to read.
31
James
BELGRAVE MEWS SOUTH
A tastefully refurbished three storey mews house in a cobbled lane with exceptionally large reception rooms and master bedroom. An unusually light house with three ensuite bedrooms, complete with...
‘It has a book nook,’I declare, unable to help myself. ‘And original wainscot panelling. And a working fireplace. High end finishes; Miele appliances, marble and bespoke cabinetry. And it’s within walking distance to my place. And it’s pink. Just look at the place—it’s as cute as a button.’ Only she’s not looking at it. She’s looking at me. Or glaring might be a better description. ‘And a terrace,’ I add, still reciting the ad copy. ‘And it’s in a very pretty cobblestoned lane.. .’
Suddenly, Miranda reaches out, snatching the sculpture out of my hand.
‘You’ve bought this place already?’ I nod. ‘Without waiting to speak with me about it?’
Try as I might, I can’t help the rise of my eyebrows or the way my lips curl up at the corners. Angry Miranda is so fucking pretty. And fiercely cute. And I understand completely now what she said about Beckett and Olivia and the benefits of making up after an argument. One can but hope.
‘Well?’
I shrug. Then I nod, because it appears mygosh-shucksshrug wasn’t a clear statement.
‘I can’t believe you would do this,’ she murmurs, her voice dangerously low. ‘I already saidno.’
Nowthatutterance was at a higher volume. I hope she’ll excuse me as I snatch the penis out of her hand.
‘Hey!’
‘My turn. You said I couldn’t buy you a house. You also said I couldn’t help you find somewhere to live, in any capacity. You didn’t want my input, you wouldn’t countenance living in one ofmyproperties, and you were positively obstreperous when I recommended you speak with my property agent. You won’t let me help you financially. In fact, I bet you wouldn’t let me help you pitch a bloody tent!’
‘But—’
‘Ah! No cock, no talk. I haven’t bought you a house. I’ve bought Harry the Haribo one. And when he’s born—’
