Page 122 of If We Were Young

My stomach plummeted. It shot through the floorboards and into the office below. “Oh.”

“He has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.” Natalie leant into the door, sliding on it as she swooned.

“He’s married.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are all the men you bring to this office married?”

God. Who knows?

I walked around my desk and dropped into my seat. My bones ached. Dog tired would mean the dog still had the energy to bark—I was long past that.

“Liam?” I picked up the call and ignored the fact I could see Stewart, Natalie, and Fred watching me through the glass.

“Ronnie. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye the other night.” His voice was cool and very professional. Not the drunken Scot roaring in his mother’s front room.

“My fault. I had to get back to London in a rush.”

“Hm.”

“How can I help you, Liam?”

“I’ve seen your rebrand for Carling’s.”

“Already?”

“Amanda was so pleased she spammed the whole family on WhatsApp.”

My stomach lurched again, but I kept myself together. This meant Matthew had seen what I’d come up with. He knew what I’d come up with was a greengrocers—the one thing he’d always hidden from me; a greengrocer who would save the planet as well as its customer’s dinner.

Panic ripped a deep chasm in the middle of my chest. Ugh, God. It wouldn’t be enough. It would be laughed at.

“I was hoping you might consider working with a friend of mine?”

I couldn’t hear him over the thudding in my head. The flap of failure dragged me down into its murky depths. My palms slicked. My neck hot.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve got some friends; you know how it is in small business these days. A lot of them are clinging onto their place on the high street. I think you could help them.”

“I can’t make everyone into a planet saver. It doesn’t work like that.”

“No, but you could give them a facelift. Make them stand out.”

Friend on the high street? What high street? It didn’t exist anymore; the world was supermarkets and Amazon. Deliveries and convenience.

“Liam, I…”

“Sleep on it, hey? I can’t come to London until the week after next, but I can call you tomorrow to see what you think?”

“Liam. My business…”

“Don’t rush. I’ve emailed over my prospects. I’ll call tomorrow.” He hung up, gone without even a proper goodbye.

Just what exactly did Liam Carling do?

I shrugged at the others through the glass. That was weird, more than weird, but I guessed I could sleep on it one more night.