Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
I’m hopping around on one leg, trying to tug on my black leather Chelsea boot in an effort to look presentable for suit shopping. I’ve put on the smartest jeans I have and a black shirt that I went to the trouble of pressing, ready to run for the train and to meet up with my friends in Brighton.
To be honest, I’m totally freaking out because who can find a suit in two hours? Let’s face it, I’m so screwed—I’ll end up in my bartender’s trousers and uniform shirt at this rate. I should just borrow the apron too.
Right. Straightening, I pat myself down. Keys, phone, wallet.
At least Oxford Street’s around the corner. I should be able to find something, and I’ve got my Oyster card if I need to go further. But if I can’t find it around there, it’s probably not to be found. At half past nine, I’m out the door, as ready as it gets for speed shopping.
Where do I go? A department store? That seems sensible, doesn’t it?
They have lots of selection. The last time I went suit shopping, I went with my mom, who was a bit more useful about these things than my dad, and it wasn’t that long ago.
I’m definitely not qualified to shop alone for suits.
And God help me if I need to call Richard to attend to me in some change room—I’ll probably end up garroted.
I go to one department store, then another, swiftly overwhelmed by choice. At 11:00 a.m., I stand outside to get some air as I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, miserable. I’m going to have to call Richard and explain I’m having a problem.
Except I really, really don’t want to do that.
My phone chimes, and it’s a text from Florian.
Did you find anything yet?
No. Cue despair
Five minutes pass with no response. I shift from foot to foot outside of Paul Smith’s, wondering if buying a suit from another Smith would be a good thing.
Also—way out of my budget of approximately nothing.
What happened to Florian? Was that the extent of his check-in?
Now I’m left to flounder amid tourists and serious shoppers.
But my phone rings, and I pounce immediately. “Hello?”
“Sorry. I had to take a call,” Florian explains smoothly. “And how are you?”
“Terrible,” I wail wholeheartedly. I really have nothing to lose, and why hold back when I’m having a crisis?
After all, I saw Florian through a couple of meltdowns on that Saturday night in the lift—it’s totally my turn.
“I’m meant to be on a train to Brighton in an hour and I can’t find a suit and I’m going to disappoint Paul and Caden and it’s going to be rotten.
I just had to do one thing, you know? Get dressed and show up on time. Why’s it so hard?”
“Matty.” His voice is firm, yet there’s a hint of something warm in there too. It’s not his austere business voice.
Florian gets my attention. I gulp air as I refocus with a shiver. “Yes?”
“The cleaners have found your suit. I can arrange to have it sent to you in Brighton. Text me the address for delivery.”
“Oh, thank you, God, it’s a fucking miracle!”
Florian laughs, a rich laugh that fills something in me that I didn’t know I was missing, and it brings me back to the here and now. Which is Oxford Street and me having some kind of lapse. “You don’t need to refer to me as God, though it is utterly charming.”
“Thought you weren’t into charm.”
“Charm has its purposes. At the right time and place.”
Wait. Is he… flirting with me?
I do a double take, giddy with the newfound suit euphoria. “Well, Florian, you’ve charmed the hell out of me right now. I could kiss you.”
Another laugh that thrills me, rippling through my body all the way to my toes. “I’m afraid that’s not necessary. Also, difficult since I am, in fact, still in New York.”
“Your loss, then. And too bad ’cause I’m an excellent kisser,” I say carelessly. “Rave reviews. Also, I’m down a date and could use a fake boyfriend for the wedding tomorrow. My scheduled date bailed. Well, he got called into work. Same result, really.”
“I see.” Neutral tone, neither harsh nor playful.
That brings me down to earth with a sobering thump. Obviously, Florian’s busy building his empire. “But I’ll deal with it. You’ve found the suit. That’s the important bit.”
“The dry cleaners found the suit,” Florian confirms. “If I were in town, I would consider your fake proposal, but I have other too-real engagements. In New York.”
“Even after I was rotten on our first fake date? Hypothetically speaking, you’d actually consider fake boyfriending again with me?”
“Fake partnering, actually. I’ve already told you about how I feel about the term boyfriend.”
“Semantics, Florian.”
“Do you wish to get started on a discourse regarding semantics?” Florian asks archly. “Because that could take a turn you might not be prepared for.”
“Better not. Better stick to me being rotten. It’s familiar territory anyway. Got that rut worn down into something comfortingly familiar.”
“I don’t think you are rotten. Or in a rut. On the contrary. You are…”
“I am…?” I perk up, keenly interested in his answer. Hold my breath, even.
“Well, as your onetime fake partner, I would say you’re refreshing. And there’s a certain appeal that you have. I don’t think you realize your power.”
“Really? Would you want to try that out at another business event?”
“Perhaps. But I must go now. Give me the name of your hotel, and I’ll arrange for the suit to be delivered later.”
My shoulders drop with great relief, and I give him details. “Okay. Thanks. I’m grateful, really.”
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience to you.”
“Not your fault. You tried.”
“Trying isn’t enough.” Florian’s matter-of-fact. “You must execute a plan to the best of your abilities by action. By doing.”
“Thanks, Yoda.” It’s my turn to laugh, shaking my head, watching the traffic stream down Oxford Street. The pavements fill with the steady movement of pedestrians as the morning approaches lunchtime.
“Thank you, Matty.” With that, Florian hangs up.
Wow.
Was I actually bantering with Florian De Ligt? Flirting, even? My frothy imagination couldn’t conjure this up. But it’s easy enough for him to fake flirt for the sake of our fake standing as onetime fake partners. Especially from another continent. Extra safety insurance at that distance.
But even so, I’m smiling as I hurry to get my bag from home and catch the train to Brighton.