Page 66 of (Not) The One
‘You get a pass,’ she answers with a kind look.
‘I hope Olivia feels the same way,’ I mutter, my stomach tightening again. Every time I think about her, I get the same sickly lurch—not vomit sickly but worried sickly. Part of me wishes she would stay away until we both forget about that whole episode, while part of me wants to drive to Hampstead right now just to get the whole ordeal over with.
‘If you explain it to her, she just might.’
I shake my head. Where would I begin? Even without the worry currently plaguing my mind, there has been so much that I haven’t told her. Why? Because she’s my boss, not my friend. I don’t want to admit what a fuckup I am. I’d much prefer to retain her respect than to exchange it for her pity. So no. ‘No excuses. I’ll take what she has to say on the chin. My behaviour wasn’t professional. I accept that.’
‘At least you weren’t behaving like a bitch in heat.’
Not that she saw, anyway. Later that night? A whole different story.
Was that hormones?Whore-moans more like.
‘I was thinking.’ Heather’s words pull me my wallowing. ‘I might get a card or something for Harry.’
‘Who’s Harry?’
‘Beckett’s friend. The one who made sure you got home on Friday night? Don’t tell me you don’t remember his name,’ she adds, puzzled. ‘Not after all the trouble he went to.’
‘I-I just forgot it for a moment.’ I turn my attention to powering down my laptop to avoid her gaze. Did he give me a fake name? It seems ridiculous, but still, I can’t help but wonder? And if he did give me a fake name, why?
Unless thoseacquisitionsare illegal.
It’s more likely a nickname.
Screw it. What difference does it make? It’s not like we move in the same circles. He could be called anything, and it would have no impact on my life.
Except if he’s about to become a baby daddy.
Which he isn’t because this is just my mind playing tricks on me.
‘Yeah, well I was thinking about getting him a card to say thank you for going after you on my behalf. Maybe a bottle of wine? A bottle of wine I was thinking you could pay for. You know, asyourthank you.’
‘I don’t think either of us could afford the kind of wine he’s used to drinking.’
Besides, I’ve already expressed my gratitude for the night in other ways.
Oh, God, please! Yes! Yes!
‘It’s the thought that counts,’ she says with a sniff as I duck my head because it’s the thought that causes my cheeks to redden and my insides to pound inappropriately. ‘Anyway, how would you know what kind of stuff he drinks?’
Once, it was a single malt that had tasted heavenly from his tongue.
‘Did you not see the car he was driving?’ I lock my desk drawer and pull out the key. ‘Plus, he’s a friend of Beckett’s. If you ask me, we’ll probably never see him again.’
Because I’m not pregnant and—
My head whips up at the sound of a deep chuckle.
‘Did no one never tell you what happens when you say the devil’s name?’
17
Miranda
Speakof the Devil and he doth appear.
‘Hey, Harry!’ Heather chirps as though his appearance in the office is the most natural thing ever—like he bloody works here!
