Page 33 of Stuck

“I’m not sure it’s for me,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“I liked it,” Polanski said, nodding as though he was agreeing with himself. “It was a nice change from running.”

“How about you?” Elizabeth asked, looking up at me. Her face was still flushed from the cold or maybe the exercise, her eyes bright, and her cheeks and the tip of her nose rosy. She had a really cute nose.

I cleared my throat. “I enjoyed it. I don’t love spending time in my flat, so this was a nice diversion. Better than going into the office at any rate.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, and I swallowed. Why the hell did I keep telling her this stuff?

“It wasn’t what I expected,” Polanski said, indicating the water with a nod towards the window. “I thought it’d be all duckweed and algae, but this is very open and surprisingly clear.”

“It is,” Elizabeth agreed. “The place where I swim back in Hertfordshire is much wilder. It’s at a spot where two rivers converge. The current’s fairly slow and meanders around in little eddies that you can float on. And there’s a massive branch in the middle that you can climb up on and sit with the cormorants, if you wait long enough and sit still enough. There are loads of weeds there. You have to be careful not to get tangled up in the deeper parts. But I love it. Especially on really hot summer days. We sometimes have barbecues on the riverbank in the summer.”

She broke into a grin and added, “You do have to watch out for the crayfish, though. They bite.”

“Do crayfish bite?” Andy asked sceptically. “With their mouths?”

“Oh, no, I suppose they don’t,” she replied, her face scrunching up in confusion. “What do they do?” She held up her hands like crab claws in front of her face and started making pincer movements with both, frowning at them as though they might tell her the answer. “What’s the word for it?”

Andy snorted with amusement, and Elizabeth realised what she was doing and lowered her hands into her lap, laughing. “You wouldn’t believe I have a degree, would you?”

I didn’t think I’d ever been so charmed as I was watching such a clever woman having such a moment of abject inanity and openly laughing at herself for it. “I think they nip,” I offered.

“Right, well, whatever they do, remind me never to go swimming in rivers in Hertfordshire!” Polanski scraped his chair back and stood up. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll miss my bus.”

Andy snatched his phone up and checked the time. “Dammit, I’ve already missed mine! It’s an hour ’til the next one.”

“I can give you a lift home.”

He stopped panicking and frowned at me. “You drove?”

Elizabeth let out an evil little giggle. “He did.”

I shot her a wry look before returning my attention to Andy. “Is that a no?”

“Nope! It’s my gran’s birthday lunch today—my mum’ll string me up if I’m late. I’d love a lift. Thanks, Mr Darcy.”

“Just ‘Darcy’ is fine.” I turned to Elizabeth, raising a taunting eyebrow as I asked, “And you? Will your morals allow you to accept a lift?”

She grinned. “It’s lift sharing, so it would be morally justified. But my flat is in Battersea, so I won’t put you out.”

I didn’t intend to argue, but then Andy announced that he also lived south of the river, farther away even than the power station, making it difficult for Elizabeth to decline without looking absurd. I refused to dwell on why this turn of events pleased me so much—and my pleasure didn’t last long anyway.

To be precise, it lasted right up until we reached the car and Trent got out to open the back door. Elizabeth looked between us with pure glee, and I suddenly felt like a complete wanker for not only coming the few short miles from my house to Hyde Park in a car, but for being chauffeured there. I had a feeling I was never going to hear the end of this.

I crossed my arms. “Go on, say it. If you’re going to take the piss out of me for having a driver, let’s get it over with.”

Elizabeth smiled mischievously. “Why would I take the piss? If I’d known you were already lift sharing, I would never have teased you in the first place.”

It was unexpectedly funny, but I didn’t react, too distracted by the extremely inauspicious swooping sensation tumbling through me as I watched her eyes dance with laughter. I was almost relieved when her friend Billy interrupted us to call goodbye. Almost, but not quite, because when I saw that he had his arm around another woman—a woman he kissed as they walked away—my already turbulent mind went into overdrive.

Billy had a girlfriend; Elizabeth wasn’t being unfaithful—not with him, anyway, and likely not with anyone, if I was being honest. How long was I going to keep expecting her to behave like the cold, uncaring woman I’d first thought her to be? Because I knew better now. She was warm and funny and kind—and clearly I was the arsehole in this scenario, because it was me being disloyal to Bingley, every time I found another reason to admire his girlfriend.

I gritted my teeth and climbed into the car, resolved to spend the journey talking him up. I’d do it as much to make it up to him for being a terrible friend as to remind myself why these errant feelings of mine had to stop.

16

ELIZABETH