TWENTY
Reilly
It’s been two weeks of gifts, flowers, and “thinking of you” texts. Which has been lovely and thoughtful. But the one thing that is missing is Elton. He’s been in London on business, and he took Neive with him, so I haven’t seen her either.
I’ve received a fresh bunch of flowers every three days, and an array of gifts.
I’ve run out of vases and have had to resort to splitting them between jars and cutting the tops off plastic bottles.
Not quite what I imagine these flowers are used to.
I don’t know what to do with all the clothes and jewellery – the boxes are piled up in the bottom of my wardrobe.
I’m too conscious to parade them out in public.
Every time I open a package, the roll of excitement is overshadowed by the foghorn siren screaming, “This isn’t for you! ”
The doorbell goes, and Chip loses his mind. Hopping around in circles, sliding on the wooden floor.
“Ready, darling?” Thea beams as I open the door.
She’s wearing a knee-length summer dress and a white cardigan.
We are only going for a quick coffee, but Thea manages to bring class to the outing.
Which is a nice counterpart to my leggings and oversized hoodie.
I’m dressing my feelings today. We head down the road, Chip happily nipping at our heels.
He loves a little adventure, and it’s a huge bonus that our favourite coffee shop allows dogs.
Opening the door, I take in the smell that soothes me every time without fail. I grab a couple of coffees, and we find a quiet corner to catch up. This coffee shop is a classic hipster paradise: exposed bricks, indie playlist and the perfect flat white.
My phone buzzes across the table. Warmth spreads through me. However, my heart plummets when Twatface Timathy lights up on the screen – Sarah needs to stay off my phone. I flip my phone over on the table to deal with later, or never.
“Is he still trying to get in contact with you?” Thea asks, staring daggers towards my phone as if she can telepathically send them his way. She took an instant dislike to him when they first met. That should have been my first red flag.
“Every now and then.” I shrug. “Texts. The odd phone call. Normally when he’s drunk. He wants to meet and ‘work things through’,” I say with air quotes and an eye roll. I flip the phone back up, swiping away Tim’s notification and relighting the screen in case I’ve missed any other calls.
“Were you expecting someone else?” she asks, hiding her smirk behind her coffee cup.
“Elton.” I smile sheepishly. I’ve told the girls about the gifts but haven’t admitted how uncomfortable I am with it. “It’s actually my reason for asking you for coffee.” Obviously, my first reason being to spend time with my bestie, but my ulterior motive is for good old-fashioned boy advice.
Thea leans in, intrigued, obviously ready for me to spill the tea.
“Elton’s rich,” I start my attempt to explain my painful thought process.
Thea nods, waiting for me to continue. “Really rich. I’m not sure how rich, but his house and cars, they’re outrageous.
He tried to pay me ￡10,000 to teach Neive how to bake.
It’s insane. He has unspeakable wealth.” Thea frowns, confused.
She doesn’t get where I’m going with this.
“I’m not rich.” Again, Thea nods in agreement.
“Really not rich. I’m back living with my mum.
I shop at Lidl. I have a strict monthly budget I cannot exceed. I am borderline poor.”
She is still staring at me, her head tilted to the side as she waits for me to get to the point.
“You’re rich.” I point at Thea. She opens her mouth to respond but then decides against it and just nods, waiting for my next statement.
“It’s all a bit … gah, I don’t know. Is it wrong if I feel weird about it all?
Or would it be wrong if I didn’t feel weird?
” My eyes widen at the realisation that maybe actually having concern over wealth disparities is very common and the healthier outlook on it.
What? Shut up, Reilly.
She puffs a breath out. “Okay. Right. I don’t understand your question.
” Not sure how, it’s a pretty straightforward question.
“But if your concern is Elton is going to lord his wealth over you like Tim did, that’s not something you need to worry about.
” Her voice is soft as she leans across and grabs my hand.
There is pity in her eyes. She can see how much I like Elton and how much something like this would bother me.
“I don’t belong in that world, Thea. It makes me uncomfortable. He keeps buying me things. And oh my god, you should see his house. It’s bloody huge.” My voice is small as I confess my feelings.
“Darling. This is not that deep. Yes, he has money. But I have money. Have we ever had issues?” she asks, leaning back with her hand to her chest. I shake my head at her.
She’s right. I’m making mountains out of molehills.
“Is he throwing his money around like Tim used to?” She throws her hands out to the sides.
Every now and then, Thea radiates “old-money”.
I scoff. “Tim wishes he could throw that sort of money around.” We both laugh at my ex’s pitiful obsession with status and wealth. “No,” I admit. “He’s humble and values his family. I know that. I wish the annoying voice in my head did.”
Every time I start to imagine this relationship developing, my inner demon screams that it won’t last, he will realise I don’t belong with him. My own father didn’t want me. Why would someone else?
“Reilly. Good morning.” The deep, soulful voice of Jeeves comes from behind me.
“Hey, Jeeves. You’re back from London?” I say, looking around to see if he is alone.
“A few things needed to be dealt with here. Elton and Neive will be back in a few days.” He smiles down at Thea. “Hello again, Theadora.” His voice drops a few octaves, becoming sinfully sexy.
“Hey.” A blush creeps up her neck. I study them both for a bit, watching them idle chit-chat as they fall into each other’s eyes. These two would make an interesting couple.
“Hey, Jeeves. Can I ask you something?” I interrupt whatever is happening there.
He leans his hands on the back of the chair next to Thea and turns his attention to me. The edge of complex tattoos peak out from under his shirt sleeves. Jeeves has a complicated story, and I’m not nosey enough to ask about it. Well I am, but it’s never felt right to pry.
“Who sent me all those gifts?” I shift as I ask, knowing it may be coming across as slightly rude. Thea snaps her head towards me, probably wondering where I’m going with this. Ask no questions, get no answers.
“Elton did,” he responds without missing a beat. If he is at all surprised or uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it.
“Yes, but who physically bought them and sent them?” I push further. Thea clears her throat next to me.
“Elton is a busy man, Reilly. He’s running a company, and he’s had Neive with him this week.
So, yes, a staff member physically ordered and sent them.
But it was under his instruction.” There is something stern in the way Jeeves explains this to me.
A protectiveness people often only reserve for family.
I smile in response, knowing I’ve probably pushed his limits if he’s chastising me.
He raises his eyebrows back at me. “See you soon, ladies.” He knocks twice on the table as he leaves with a takeaway coffee. I have a suspicion he was only in here to see me or maybe even Thea.
“See, this is where things could be a problem,” I start, snapping Thea out of her daydream as she watches a very unobtainable man leave the coffee shop.
“I completely understand Elton is busy, and I love that he thought about me enough to send me flowers and stuff.” I brace my elbows on the table and rest my chin on my clasped hands.
“But …?” Thea presses.
“But he had someone else do it. And I can’t expect him to change who he is because of my preferences.” I drop my head onto my now crossed arms. This is a perfect example of me not belonging in Elton’s world.
“You don’t know until you talk to him about this, Reilly. Don’t write him off yet,” Thea says, with a very small eye roll that could be hidden well if she wasn’t one of my best friends.
She’s right.
I glare into my coffee.
It’s not fair to ignore all the chemistry between us because I feel odd about his financial circumstances. Sometimes you have to throw yourself all in.
She’s smiling to herself as she licks the foam off the side of her mug, and I know exactly who has given her the air of romance she’s holding on to and trying to push my way. But that will be a discussion for another day.