Chapter 8 Edith
EDITH
Finn led them to a tucked-away bar in Soho. It didn’t look like much from outside but when they walked through the door, Edith could see why he had chosen it for their evening.
‘This is lovely,’ she said, admiring the exposed brickwork, long gleaming bar, hanging copper lights and greenery. It was like walking into a greenhouse with soft music playing and plenty of alcohol available, which made a relaxing combination. ‘Shall we get a table first or go to the bar?’
Finn gave a small shrug. ‘I’m not sure…’
‘Oh… I thought this was your idea.’ Edith scanned his face.
‘Actually, Wyatt told us to meet him here,’ Titus said. ‘And there he is.’
Edith bit her bottom lip hard as dismay filled her.
So she wasn’t about to have a relaxing time with her friends.
Instead, her ex would be here too, which meant she would be on high alert all evening.
She could, she thought, cry off with a migraine or period pain or any kind of pain just to get away from Wyatt.
Pain in the arse, more like!
But then she caught sight of him at the other end of the bar and her heart skipped a beat.
In a plain white shirt, navy trousers, and shiny shoes, he was gorgeous.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved towards them with a smooth, confident grace.
She’d forgotten about how he moved, like he owned every room he walked into.
It had always reassured her he was the man for her and that she would never tire of being with him.
She’d had boyfriends before him, but none of them had made her think they could be keepers.
Something about them had always seemed lacking, not right, irritating.
But Wyatt, with his deep voice and warm American accent, his easy smile, and sense of humour that could make her laugh until she peed a little bit, had seemed perfect.
With his neat dark haircut and those honey-warm eyes, his kindness and intelligence, and the ease with which he’d reach out to do what he could to help others, Wyatt was the man she’d always wanted.
The way he had always seemed to know exactly what she needed and how to give it to her had made her count her lucky stars.
And all of those things had made losing him even harder and left her unable to trust another man and, even worse, unable to trust herself and her own judgement.
Edith had thought she knew Wyatt and it turned out she hadn’t known him at all.
So when his smile fell upon her now, it didn’t warm her the way it used to. Instead, a shiver ran down her spine. She frowned at him, clenched her fists and averted her gaze.
‘Evening!’ Wyatt said, as if oblivious to her snub. ‘How are we all?’
There were greetings and hugs, and Edith stepped back to avoid getting caught up in one. He must have sensed her reluctance because he gave Thora a quick peck on each cheek and then simply directed a nod in Edith’s direction.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Titus asked.
‘I have something special in store for you,’ Wyatt said, gesturing at a door at the rear of the bar. ‘Follow me and you’ll find out.’
He led the way, and Edith hung back so she was the last member of their party.
When she went through the door, she shivered as a chill passed through her.
Of all the things she’d imagined doing this evening, being around Wyatt was not one of them.
She’d envisioned champagne, tapas, and lots of laughter.
‘OK then.’ Wyatt gestured at the two long tables in front of them. ‘This evening you will make cocktails in a masterclass led by an expert mixologist.’
‘Oh wow!’ Titus laughed. ‘I’ve always fancied trying this.’
‘I know you have, and that’s why I planned it.’ Wyatt clapped Titus on the back.
‘Me too! I mean I’ve made some at the café with Pearl and Ellie on special occasions but never done it in a proper class. I’ll be able to pick up some tips!’ Thora wandered over to one table and picked up a small steel measuring cup. ‘Do we get to drink them?’
‘Of course!’ Wyatt grinned. ‘That’s all part of the fun.’
The mixologist soon joined them. She explained the process and demonstrated how to make a few cocktails with moves that would have made Tom Cruise proud in Cocktail.
The mixologist told them all to take a place at one of the tables, and somehow, Edith ended up next to Wyatt.
She glanced sideways at him, but he was examining the bottles and tools on the table, and seemed oblivious to her discomfort.
She gave herself an inward shake and pushed her shoulders back, took a breath and prepared to focus on the task at hand.
As she listened and copied the expert, Edith relaxed a bit. She measured out the ingredients and added them to the shaker and then screwed on the lid. Then, they were told how to shake the mix to get the right result.
In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought, loosening her hips and shaking the cocktail. Her tension dispersed as she moved. There was no point going for half measures (she chuckled softly at her own pun) when making something like this. Besides, what did she have to lose from relaxing?
When the mixologist told them to stop and then strain out the drink, she picked up the cocktail glass and peered at her creation. With Jamaican rum, lime juice, green Chartreuse and falernum, she had made a Nuclear Daiquiri.
‘Now the fun part,’ the mixologist said. ‘You get to taste it.’
‘Hooray!’ Finn said as he picked up his cocktail. ‘Cheers, my dears.’
Edith raised her glass and took a sip. The sharp citrus of the lime juice and herbal spicy notes of the green Chartreuse and falernum were balanced by the richness of the rum.
‘Mmm …’ The sound emerged from her lips without effort, and she blushed a little as Wyatt looked at her over the rim of his own glass.
His eyes held hers and her stomach flipped over.
His gaze was so intense, the honey of his eyes more maple syrup in the low lighting of the bar, and a tingle started up low in her belly.
It’s the alcohol, she told herself as she tore her gaze away from her ex and took another sip of the drink.
Right now, the alcohol was helping and so she drank her daiquiri, hoping her reaction to Wyatt’s proximity would not be a nuclear one. He had devastated her once and caused a dramatic reaction in her and she could not let him do that again. The fallout had simply been too bad.
‘OK then, our next cocktail is…’
They went through the process again and made another drink, just as delicious as the first one, and the gentle buzz of the alcohol soothed Edith. The clink of ice and the tang of citrus filled the air. Her shoulders lowered, her cheeks flushed and she found herself smiling as she worked.
‘Shake it ‘til you make it!’ Finn said as they set about making the third drink.
‘A cocktail a day keeps the bad vibes away,’ Titus said.
‘Sip happens!’ Wyatt joined in.
Edith froze and glared at him. How could he even joke about something like that after what he’d done?
He seemed to sense her eyes on him, and he looked at her; then the smile dropped off his face. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
She shook her head and measured out a shot of vodka, but he moved closer to her.
‘Edith? What did I say?’
‘How can you be so blasé about things?’ she asked.
‘Blasé?’ His brows met. ‘How am I blasé?’
‘Turning up in the UK after all these years and acting like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth?’ Her words seemed bitter even to her, and she wished she hadn’t reacted at all.
‘I don’t think you’re right about that,’ he replied. ‘I’ve never been blasé, but I did what I did because if I hadn’t… things would have been a lot worse.’
‘Worse!’ she snapped in a whisper. ‘How could it have been worse?’
‘Sip me, baby, one more time!’ Finn chuckled as he drained his glass.
‘It could have been, believe me.’ Wyatt held out his hands as if to prove it. ‘But it’s nice to know you’re still bitter enough to need sugar syrup.’
‘What?’
He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’
‘Bitter? Why the hell do you think I’m bitter?’ she muttered, glancing over at Finn and Titus to check they hadn’t overheard her.
‘I… I just meant that sometimes it was really hard to speak to you about things. You’d get defensive and then I’d get tongue-tied, and it was… I couldn’t find the right words and anyway… Please just believe me. I had my reasons. Can’t you just trust me on that?’
‘When life throws lemons, squeeze them into a cocktail!’ Titus said as he juggled three lemons above his head.
‘Trust you?’ Edith pressed her lips together hard, then wiped her sticky hands on a cloth and removed her apron. ‘How can you even think about suggesting that I trust you? Wyatt… you are… simply unbelievable.’
‘Thanks.’ He fixed her with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. If she hadn’t known him at all, she’d have thought he was being arrogant but knowing him as she had meant she understood that she’d hurt him.
He was feeling vulnerable and trying to protect himself with a physical barrier.
She wavered for a moment as some of the old fondness for him washed over her, but then she dragged her sadness and fury to the front of her mind and erected her own barriers.
‘Anyway… This is not the time nor place,’ she said with a pointed look at Finn, Titus and Thora, who were happily mixing more ingredients and giggling as they created their next cocktail.
Wyatt’s arms dropped to his sides, and he nodded slowly. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’
She sighed. ‘I’m sorry too. It must be the alcohol opening old wounds.’
‘And for those wounds I apologise,’ he said.
She gazed into his eyes, seeing all the things she’d once loved and wishing things were different. But they were the way they were, and there was, she knew, no point longing for a different outcome.
‘I’ve got one!’ she said, pushing her pain away. ‘Where there’s wine, there’s a way!’
‘And remember, it’s not good to keep things bottled up…’ Wyatt offered her a smile and after a few seconds she returned it.
They had a past, there was pain and sadness in that past, but they were here for their friends and so they needed to put their frustrations aside. Anything else was simply not good enough, and Edith never wanted to be that kind of friend.