Chapter 28
Tonight feels so different to last night. Last night I was nervous – tonight I’m petrified.
I guess it’s because last night I didn’t know what was happening, whether I was doing it for business or pleasure, but tonight it’s clear.
It’s a date – a date where we are going to kiss.
I just wonder how long it will take for one of us to cave, or if we’ll both wait for whatever perfect moment Jordan will have no doubt carved out for us.
Standing in front of my hotel room mirror, I double check my eye makeup, smooth down my dress, and spritz on more perfume, because I’m convinced it’s worn off since I applied it fifteen minutes ago.
Then I stare at myself, giving myself a long, hard look, and I don’t want to be all soppy and daft but, honestly, I would probably cry if I didn’t think it might ruin my makeup, because the reflection smiling back at me isn’t the usual one; it’s a girl with hope and optimism, not the sad sack who honestly feared every man would hurt her, or disappoint her, or ultimately cheat on her.
I really do feel good about this one and it’s been so, so long since I felt that way. It’s kind of nice.
I’m scared, but in a good way. I’m not worried I’m going to mess it up, or that he’s going to be nipping to the lav to AirDrop snaps of his dick to everyone in the hotel.
It’s that nervous excitement as you start to fantasise about what the rest of your life might look like with someone, usually when you first get together, and the butterflies in your stomach can’t stay still.
I grab my bag and head down to the hotel bar.
I love that we haven’t just been getting on in person, but that we had that first digital spark too – not that it was flirty, but it’s like we were drawn to each other.
Plus, we got stuck in a lift together, and whenever that happens to a couple in the movies that shit is as good as locked in for life.
Nothing says happy ever after like a meet-cute in a broken-down lift.
The bar is dimly lit, as always, which really does reassure me that Jordan didn’t see me that night, when I was lovingly observing (that sounds so much nicer than stalking) him and Alison.
I do a casual scan of the room, looking to see if I’m the first one here – I am ten minutes early – but there’s no sign of him.
‘Liberty.’ A voice snaps me from my thoughts.
‘Pete,’ I reply. ‘Hello – did you get the app sorted?’
I’m surprised to see him but it makes sense that we would all be staying in the same hotel.
‘Just about,’ he replies. ‘Honestly, I leave London for a couple of days and it’s chaos. At least it’s a working trip, so we could use Matcher US HQ to sort it.’
‘That’s good,’ I reply. ‘Jordan will be pleased then?’
‘Yeah, he’s got a real spring in his step today for some reason,’ Pete says with a shrug.
I think I know why…
‘That’s great,’ I say.
‘So, what can I get you to drink?’ he asks me.
‘Erm…’
‘And do you want me to call you Liberty or NewGirl?’ he adds.
Wait – what? Surely not… This is just me, trying to find something to worry about, looking for problems where there aren’t any because I’m too scared to move on – as bloody always.
‘Oh, haha, yeah – Liberty is fine,’ I tell him.
That’s what it is. Just me, panicking, imagining the worst-case scenario.
‘Good, because it might be weird, if you called me MrLoveByte all night,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘One of the lads in the office chose the name for me – cringe, I know.’
Fuuuuuuck.
‘You look beautiful, by the way,’ he tells me.
‘I… er… thanks.’
I don’t know what else to say. I mean, clearly, I’m a shit private investigator and whatever I do for work moving forwards it should absolutely not be that.
Why oh why did I think it was Jordan? Of course it’s not going to be Jordan, the boss, pissing around on an app meant for the workforce.
I leapt to a genuine cliff of a conclusion, just because he called me new girl which – news flash – is what I am, and now I’m slowly falling back to earth as reality sets in.
I have a horrible feeling the impact is going to be catastrophic.
‘Sit down,’ he says, nodding towards the bar stool. Then he turns to the barman. ‘What do you recommend?’
‘I make a mean Manhattan,’ he replies.
‘Two of those then, please,’ Pete says.
‘Erm, hi,’ Jordan says as he appears between the two of us, and all at once the air changes.
‘Actually, make it three,’ Pete tells he barman. ‘I definitely owe this man a drink, after the bonus he gave me today.’
Jordan glances between us.
‘Oh, thanks,’ he says to Pete as he takes a seat next to me, leaving me sandwiched between the two of them. ‘So, you’re celebrating, eh? What are you getting up to tonight?’
‘Well, I’m taking this one for a night out,’ Pete tells him, nodding towards me.
I notice Jordan’s eyes widen for a split second.
And this is it. The impact. And boy does it hurt.
‘You two?’ Jordan replies.
‘Yeah, I know Paige doesn’t like us getting close, but you know it won’t affect my work,’ Pete reasons.
‘I didn’t think you two knew each other,’ Jordan says.
‘Turns out we’ve been chatting on WorkM8,’ Pete says. ‘Funny, isn’t it?’
Jordan doesn’t laugh.
‘I should, uh, leave you to it then,’ Jordan says.
Shit, shit, shit – what do I do?
‘Have your drink first,’ Pete tells him. ‘We don’t mind, do we, Liberty?’
I open my mouth to speak but I can’t get any words out.
‘Three Manhattans,’ the barman announces.
Pete hands them out.
‘To a great day and hopefully an even better night,’ Pete announces, raising his glass.
Oh, this can’t be happening. What have I ever done that was so bad that karma thought she could do me so dirty?
‘So, what are you two up to tonight then?’ Jordan asks, knocking back at least half of his drink in one gulp.
He makes it sound like an innocent question but I know it isn’t.
‘I’m open to ideas,’ Pete says. ‘I want to show Liberty the sights so, you were the local, if you’ve got any recommendations, I’m all ears.’
Jordan rests an elbow on the bar.
‘Well, if it were me…’ he starts. ‘Maybe something fun, like a Sex and the City walking tour. For dinner maybe somewhere small and full of heart, not somewhere touristy – there’s a place called Giorgio’s that does great meatballs.
Then, I don’t know, maybe a trip to Rockefeller Center, for ice skating. ’
I glance at him but he’s not even looking at me.
Pete lets out a scoff.
‘That sounds… I mean, no offence, but a bit naff, doesn’t it?’ Pete replies. ‘I’ll let you off, because you were married, but Sex and the City ? Meatballs? Ice skating? That’s not how you treat a girl like Liberty. She wants something classy, don’t you?’
‘I—’
‘She doesn’t want to go to some family restaurant, not in New York,’ Pete continues.
‘Fair enough,’ Jordan replies. He knocks back the last of his drink. ‘Well, I’ll leave you kids to it.’
‘Have a good one,’ Pete calls after him. He waits until Jordan is gone before he says anything else. ‘He’s lucky the ladies love him for his looks and his money because that sounds like a crap date.’
‘I don’t know, he seems to do okay,’ I point out in his defence.
‘Yeah, lots of women want him but, between us, he’s lost his bottle, since his divorce,’ Pete tells me. ‘But Paige is a bit of a mad woman – I don’t know if you’ve noticed. She’d put me off women for life too.’
I know that this isn’t a date – not on purpose, anyway – but my ick alarm is sounding, proving that it still works, and the only person who doesn’t trigger it is Jordan. Oh, and he thinks I’ve ditched him for Pete, which is just wonderful, isn’t it?
So Jordan isn’t the playboy Paige made him out to be, Pete was right about that, but he was wrong about him being a crap date because, honestly, hands down the best date of my life – I mean, bloody hell, the number two spot probably goes to the con man formerly known as Henri, so clearly the competition isn’t even close.
Jordan is the one for me, my dream date, as cringe as it sounds. I have to find him.
‘I think I might have to go,’ I say, grabbing my bag like it’s a parachute and I’m about to launch myself out of a crashing plane.
‘What? Why?’ Pete replies.
‘I feel sick,’ I tell him. ‘Really sick.’
‘Can I get you some water?’ he suggests. ‘It might pass.’
‘I don’t think it will,’ I reply. What is it going to take to put him off? ‘I’m having a monster period right now. Just… the worst of all of it. I really do think I’m going to throw up.’
You can tell a lot about a man based on how he reacts when you drop the P word. I swear Pete actually leans back in his chair, like I have some kind of contagious disease.
‘Right, well, that can’t be helped,’ he says, sounding like he sort of thinks I could help it, if I tried really hard.
It’s an old excuse but a good one. The kind where you don’t want to be put off by something so simple, but you’re relieved you can say it at any point and hopefully get out of whatever situation you’re in.
With his blessing, I leave, hurrying out of the bar and into the lift as fast as my legs will take me.
God, I hope Jordan went straight to his room, because I need to talk to him right away.
I just need to explain and then I can put everything right.
This doesn’t need to be a misunderstanding, this is just one of those things where I tell him what happened, and we have a laugh about it, right? Right?
I knock on Jordan’s door. He doesn’t answer – I don’t give him enough time to, to be honest – so I knock again. Screw it, this is an emergency, so I keep knocking until he opens it.
‘Erm, hello,’ he says, surprised it’s me – or maybe surprised I was smacking the crap out of his door until he opened it.
‘Can I come in?’ I ask. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Yeah, okay,’ he says, heading back in. I follow him, letting the door close behind me.