Chapter 19
19
KATE
I plaster on a smile as I walk from my office to the lobby. Inside, I’m reeling as troubling thoughts ricochet around my mind, making my stomach plummet.
What is Jon doing here? Has he figured out that I’ve been fobbing him off? Is he here to confront me? And how does he know I’m not in Birmingham?
I round the last corner, my forced smile bordering on maniacal, but it’s not Jon who’s waiting for me. It’s Willem.
‘What are you doing here?’ I blurt instinctually. ‘Sorry, that was rude. I mean, hi.’
But what is he doing here?
‘Hi,’ he says hesitantly. ‘Is this a bad time?’
I glance to my left where the receptionists are staring at us – Casey with their mouth hanging open.
‘No,’ I say brightly, ‘not at all. Would you like to come through to my office?’
Without waiting for his reply, I spin and stride down the hallway, my pace decidedly faster than when I thought I’d have to face Jon. The sound of Willem’s muffled footfalls behind me is somehow soothing, and I exhale mindfully. Hopefully, by the time I get to my office, the adrenaline coursing through my body will have started to abate.
I get to my office door and cast a smile over my shoulder. ‘Here we are.’
I skirt around my desk and perch on the edge of my leather chair, indicating for Willem to sit in one of the two club chairs opposite me. His eyes don’t leave mine as he takes a seat and I lean my wrists on the desk, steepling my fingers to keep from fidgeting.
‘So…’ I begin, hoping he’ll leap in to explain why he’s here.
‘Are you okay? You seem… agitated.’
‘I thought you were Jon,’ I reply candidly – no sense in pretending when he’s obviously got a good read on me.
Willem’s eyes widen. ‘Dunn? Why would you think that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. There’s a strange man at reception and he wouldn’t give his name…’
‘I wasn’t trying to be deceitful. I wasn’t asked my name.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry I worried you,’ he says, his concern evident.
I give him a reassuring smile. ‘Not to worry. I’m just on edge when it comes to all things Jon. He wanted to take me to lunch yesterday and I made up a lie about visiting my parents, then working from a satellite office for the week. I thought he’d caught me in the lie, then shown up to confront me.’ I expel another slow breath, my gaze fixed on my desk blotter. ‘Sorry, I’m just a little worked up.’
‘It’s okay.’
I look up. ‘So, why are you here?’ I ask again, though more politely this time.
‘To ask you to lunch.’
Now my eyes widen in surprise.
‘You came all the way to London to ask me to lunch?’
He sniggers and, feeling foolish, I join in.
‘No,’ he says. ‘I’m here for work. I’m meeting a prospective client later this afternoon and I thought you might be free for lunch.’
‘And you know where I work because you have a full dossier on me,’ I say, arching my brows at him.
‘I wouldn’t say dossier .’ He brings his thumb and forefinger together. ‘It’s more of a thin file.’
I lift one corner of my mouth, giving him a tight smile. ‘Nice distinction.’
He tips his head, then smiles. ‘So, can I take you to lunch or are you busy?’
‘I have ninety minutes until my next meeting,’ I say, standing.
‘Good,’ he replies succinctly.
He stands and repositions the chair so that it lines up with the one next to it. I’ve seen him do this before – aligning objects so the edges or angles match up. He catches me watching him and seems embarrassed.
‘But not Italian,’ I say cheerfully to take the focus off him. ‘Verona has ruined me for eating Italian food anywhere outside of Italy.’
He chuckles at that, the tension in his face disappearing. ‘There’s a good sushi place close by – how does that sound?’
‘It sounds great – lead the way.’ I gesture towards the door, but I should know by now that Willem will insist I go first, and he does.
I head out into the hallway, Willem following, and when we emerge into the airy lobby, both receptionists look over, then whisper amongst themselves.
They probably think this is Jon . It’s a jarring thought and I’ll be sure to correct them when I return.
* * *
‘It smells delicious in here,’ I say. ‘Like puffed rice and teriyaki sauce.’
Willem sniffs the air. ‘The puffed rice smell is genmaicha tea. We’ll have to order some.’
We’re in a hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurant in Soho, seated at a tiny table on short wooden stools. While my knees are tucked under the table – barely – Willem’s are practically under his armpits. I press my lips together to suppress a smile. The waiter brings us menus and water, then disappears, and I sneak a furtive glance at Willem as he takes a sip of water, his eyes scanning the menu. Unable to hold it in any longer, I snigger and he looks up, a quizzical expression crossing his face.
‘Sorry, but are you comfortable like that? We can go someplace else.’
‘I’m fine,’ he says with a reassuring wave of his hand. ‘Their sushi is worth it, trust me.’
Two more people enter and now the restaurant is full. I look over my shoulder and people are starting to queue up outside.
The waiter reappears, seemingly impatient to take our order, but we’ve only just got here and I haven’t even looked at the menu yet.
‘You must know what’s good here,’ I say to Willem. ‘Why don’t you order for both of us?’
‘Sure,’ he says with a smile. He quickly rattles off the names of four sushi rolls and adds a pot of genmaicha tea to the order.
‘How is it you’re so familiar with London?’ I ask when the waiter leaves. ‘I would never have found this place on my own.’
‘My business partner is from here.’
‘I didn’t realise you had a business partner.’
‘Probably because I never mentioned it.’
‘Well, obvs,’ I tease. ‘So, who is he? Or she? Or they?’
‘ He is Max. We studied at the University of Twente together, became good friends… And after university, both of us worked in large corporations for a while – him here and me in the Netherlands – and when we both got tired of the limitations, the corporate bullshit , we decided to work together.’
‘How long ago was that?’
‘Hmm,’ he murmurs, his eyes narrowing, ‘seven years ago. Wow.’ He shakes his head as though he can’t quite believe it’s been that long.
‘Well, you’re clearly smashing it,’ I say, instantly regretting my choice of words when he gives me a funny look. From what I’ve seen so far, Willem de Vries is a proper grownup who never uses colloquialisms like ‘smashing it’.
‘What makes you say that?’ he asks, his eyes glinting with amusement.
‘Let’s see…’ I begin, hoping to redeem myself. ‘Your business straddles the Channel, you’ve got clients across Europe… Even Marie Maillot knew who you were and she’s something of a legend in your field.’
Nicely done, Kate – a proper, grownup (i.e. Willem-like) response.
‘Well, if those are your metrics for “smashing it”, I’ll take the compliment.’
Right on cue, the heart flutters arrive, intensifying as we regard each other for a long moment. His gaze drops to my lips for a fraction of a second, then lifts to meet my eyes. Frisson , I think – just like Margot said.
Maybe this isn’t one-sided. Only every time I think that, something happens to make me doubt myself again.
A platter of sushi rolls appears on the table with a thud, breaking the spell. Willem pours soy sauce into a small ramekin, then uses chopsticks to load up his plate with sushi, and I do the same.
‘And is Max still a Londoner or has he moved to the Netherlands?’ I ask.
‘He’s here, but we see a lot of each other. Most clients prefer to meet with both of us, especially in the initial stages.’
‘Mm-hmm,’ I murmur as I chew on a piece of sushi. It’s delicious. I’d bring Margot here if it wouldn’t traumatise her. ‘So, Max lives here…’ I begin. ‘Don’t suppose you have a London-based ex-girlfriend lying about as well?’
What on earth possessed me to say that?! I’d give anything to turn back time, especially as Willem looks as horrified as I am, his sushi-laden chopsticks suspended between his plate and his mouth.
‘Er, no. No ex-girlfriend in London,’ he says, setting the sushi down.
‘I’m so sorry. That was rude of me, which makes twice today.’
He doesn’t respond right away, cryptic thoughts dancing behind his eyes, disquieting me. Should I apologise again?
‘Kate…’ he says eventually, only he trails off, leaving me none the wiser about what he wanted to say. We stare at each other a moment longer, then I look away.
‘So, tell me about this prospective client,’ I say brightly, changing the subject. ‘Unless it’s Victoria Beckham and you’re sworn to secrecy.’
I glance up and his troubled expression dissolves, his mouth quirking. ‘I told you, I’m always sworn to secrecy.’
‘Go on, I promise I won’t tell anyone – not even Margot,’ I retort, playing along – anything to make up for that mortifying faux pas. ‘You can trust me,’ I add.
‘Oh, I know that , Kate,’ he replies pointedly, loading his words with meaning I can’t quite divine.
I look down, moving sushi about my plate. My heart, once prone to fluttering in Willem’s presence, hammers away, making it hard to breathe.
‘Kate…’ When I don’t meet his eyes, he reaches across the small table and lays his hand over mine. I lift my gaze. ‘There’s no current girlfriend either. Not in London, or in Amsterdam… Not even in Verona.’
I’m positive that last bit was to make me smile, and I do, but not because of Willem’s weak joke about Jon. But because Willem just made a big to-do of clarifying that he’s single.
If only I didn’t have Poppy’s voice in my head telling me it’s a bad idea to get involved with Willem this soon after Jon.
He sits back, taking his hand away.
‘So, how long are you in London for?’ I ask, once again changing the subject.
‘Until tomorrow, then back to Amsterdam.’
‘Oh!’ I say, suddenly realising I’ve forgotten to tell him the news. ‘I’m so sorry. This completely slipped my mind. Jon’s flying to Verona this coming Saturday. It looks like he’s planning to propose to Lucia.’
It’s baffling that I forgot about this until now and unsurprisingly, Willem seems to be caught off-guard.
He leans back, fishing his phone out of his pocket. ‘One moment,’ he says, the vertical lines between his brows deepening. ‘I should have heard something from Marie Mai— Oh, she just emailed.’
His eyes scan the screen, then his cheeks puff out and he expels a loud breath before lifting his gaze to meet mine. ‘So, back to Verona then?’
‘Yes. I was going to fly there on Friday afternoon, then try and track down Lucia before Jon arrives.’ I hedge before asking the next question. ‘Did you still want to?—’
‘I’m coming with you, Kate. I told you that before and I meant it.’
‘Oh good,’ I say, relieved to have Willem as backup.
Not only relieved , Kate. You’re excited about spending the weekend with him – especially now he’s made it clear he hasn’t got a girlfriend.
‘And I’ll book us a hotel this time,’ he adds. ‘Two rooms, of course.’
‘Of course,’ I reply, nodding numbly.
But what I really want to say is, ‘Forget the hotel! Let’s book that IKEA-filled flat and this time, you don’t have to sleep on the sofa!’
Thankfully, I’m able to restrain myself and we spend the rest of lunch making small talk while I bat away romantic thoughts of Willem like flies at a picnic on a summer’s day.
* * *
‘ Please tell me you’re going to seduce Thor when you’re in Verona this weekend.’ Margot bustles into my flat, a carry bag slung over each shoulder.
‘Hello, Kate, how are you?’ I say. ‘Fine, Margot, and you?’
Calling out Margot on her lack of manners is simply an evasion tactic. I do not want to discuss Willem with Margot, especially as she’ll harp on about using him for a shag. And he means more to me than that now I’ve got to know him.
Though, of course I do want to shag him eventually. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
‘Yes, yes, yes. Hello and other niceties,’ says Margot, deftly dodging my reprimand. She kisses me on the cheek, then pushes past me and heads into the kitchen. I follow.
‘What did you bring ?’ I ask, rummaging through the carry bags. I start decanting items onto the benchtop, trying to make sense of such an eclectic array of ingredients. What is she planning on cooking? ‘And you know there are only two of us, right?’
‘I couldn’t decide between spag bol or lamb kofta, so I bought ingredients for both. And look!’ She holds up two bottles of wine: a red and a rosé. ‘But the rosé needs to go in the freezer,’ she says, handing it to me.
‘Margot,’ I say, going to the fridge and swinging it open. I wave my free hand in front of the middle shelf with a flourish worthy of a gameshow host. ‘I have three bottles of wine already chilled, including a rosé.’
She stops what she’s doing and faces me. ‘Of course you do – forgot where I was. You’re the only person I know who has a fully stocked pantry and fridge – at all times.’
‘I’ve told you, buy staples in bulk when they’re discounted and always?—’
‘And always add something to the shopping list before it runs out. I know .’
‘Well, then why don’t you do it?’ I take out the cold rosé and replace it with the one Margot brought.
‘Because I enjoy running to Tesco Express for tampons in the middle of the night, Kate – obvs !’
We crack up laughing and while Margot regards the pile of ingredients on the benchtop, I pour two generous glasses of wine. ‘Here,’ I say, handing her a glass.
She raises hers high above her head. ‘To Kate, who is finally going to sleep with the Norse god.’
I should have known she wouldn’t let this go. And it will take more energy to keep steering the conversation away from Willem than to admit my true feelings.
I take a deep breath. ‘All right, I want him, Margot. And not just because he’s… well…’
‘The word you’re looking for is “fit”, Kate. The man is straight-up fit – on any scale, by any measure. He is one hundred per cent, empirically hot.’
‘All right , yes, okay. He’s hot. But he’s far more than that. Willem’s principled and kind and thoughtful. And we’ve had these conversations… He’s a nice man, Margs – decent .’
‘My darling cousin,’ she says, placing a hand on my arm, ‘you don’t need nice or decent right now. You’re on the rebound from Arseface. You need a man who will lift you up, pin you against the wall, and screw you so royally, you see stars.’
I gawp at her.
‘Oh, don’t look at me like that. You need sex – great sex – and you need it ASAP. Trust me, it’s the best method for exorcising the demons of a bad relationship. I could write a book about it.’
I don’t doubt that and, uncannily, she’s described my latest fantasy about Willem almost to the letter. But I’m not comfortable reducing his value to what he can do with his penis. He is a decent man, and I’ve now admitted to myself – and Margot – that what I feel for him is more than just lust.
‘ Kate .’
I snap out of my stupor to discover Margot peering at me, an odd expression on her face.
‘Does that conclude your lecture on using sex to get over a shitty ex?’ I ask.
Her eyes narrow. ‘Almost – one last point and then I’ll be quiet.’
‘Ladies and gentlemen, behold, an actual miracle!’ I call out to an imaginary audience.
She smiles tersely. ‘I’m being serious.’
My smile falls away. ‘Okay, what is it?’
‘Maybe now isn’t the time to be falling in love.’
‘What?’ I say with a scoffing laugh. ‘I never said anything about falling in love with Willem.’
‘Only that he’s decent and kind and a good bloke – all the things that Jon isn’t. He’s also acting as your champion…’
‘But you just said, not two minutes ago, that I should shag him.’
‘Shag, not fall for. Just be careful with your heart, okay?’
Margot’s words echo in my ears, underscored by what Poppy said earlier.
‘I will,’ I say quietly.
Even though it may be too late for that.