Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Joshua
It was close to midnight when I found myself pacing at my front door.
I’d spent the afternoon giving feedback to the team on the research for the Merdon pitch, and since then I’d been waiting.
Waiting. And pacing. Waiting. And pacing.
Now that I had a plan, I was impatient. I wanted to put wheels into motion.
Finally, I heard the ping of the lift and I swung open the door.
“Hartford,” I said in a tone that said I meant business. She lifted her head, revealing the dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired. And slightly frazzled. “You okay?” I said, softening. Had something happened?
She nodded. “Long day. That’s all. You okay?” She yawned, covering her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut. I wanted to scoop her up, pour her some wine, and run her a bath.
But I wasn’t going to do all of those things.
Not yet anyway.
“I’m fine. I was just on a call with the US and heard the lift.”
“How was your day?” she asked.
“You don’t want to hear about that. I should let you go to bed and get some sleep.” I’d wait to tell her about her third date and my plan to “help.” Even though it might kill me.
“I won’t be able to sleep for hours yet. Too . . . wired. It’s been a crazy day.”
“I have cake.” I held open the door. I’d picked up her favorite, cookies and cream.
“That sounds perfect.” She collapsed on the sofa, kicking off her shoes.
It made me smile because she seemed so comfortable here, as if she’d moved in.
It struck me, not for the first time, that I liked having Hartford in my space.
From that first week, when she popped her head in to collect me for a grocery run, her presence here had felt natural.
Proof enough, if I needed it, that the boundaries I’d set for other women simply didn’t apply to Hartford.
I set about getting two glasses of water, each with a slice of lemon.
“I’m going flat hunting again at the weekend. There’s a new place come up in Borehamwood, a one-bedroom. I think you’d like it. No chip shop below.” She pulled out her phone and started scrolling. “Here,” she said. “Swap you for a glass of water.”
She took the drink and gave me the phone. I took a cursory look at the flat she was considering.
“I could extend on next door if you want me to,” I said. “It’s not a big deal. You’d have more time to figure out exactly where you wanted to live.” Borehamwood was miles away. I’d never see her if she lived all the way out there.
“You’re sweet. But you can’t get me used to living like I’m a celebrity. I need to get back to reality eventually.”
The thought of her moving out in just a few weeks brought back my sense of urgency. “I had drinks with the boys tonight. I’ve found you a third date. A friend of Dexter’s. He’s a doctor.”
Her eyes brightened. “Where does he work?”
“I have his full name. Shall I look him up?”
I typed out “Brian Sandford doctor” into my phone and up he popped.
Dexter wasn’t exaggerating when he said the guy was good looking.
For a second, I thought about lying and saying that nothing had come up.
But I needed to stick with the plan. And for the plan to work, she needed to be motivated to impress him.
I turned my phone and held it up for her. “What do you think?”
“Handsome. Let me see?”
I handed her the phone and sat next to her as she scrolled through his online profile. “He’s a few years older. But made consultant already. That’s impressive—Oh. He did Medicines Sans Frontiers.” A smile burst onto her face. How was I ever going to compete with that? “When’s the date?”
“Next weekend.” Now was the time when I needed to bring up going out with me. I took in a deep breath and took the plunge. “I thought that after last time, maybe you needed . . . I don’t know, some kind of trial run.”
“What do you mean? Because of David?”
“Just in case your confidence has you off balance. You don’t want to be getting your sea legs with a guy like Brian, right?”
“He looks too good to be true.”
“Right.” I was part horrified that she’d taken such an instant liking to him, and part relieved that his profile was making my argument for me.
It would have been nice if maybe even a tiny part of her had hoped that I might decide casual wasn’t the order of business when it came to her.
But I’d made this bed and now I had to lie in it, which was why I was Googling pictures of Brian.
“So, maybe have a practice run before you go out with him?”
“What do you mean, practice run?”
“I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound as if I was thinking up ideas on the spot. “You and I could go for a drink—have a fake date.”
“You and me?” She scrunched her brow as she handed me back my phone. I bit back a smile at the way her freckles danced across her nose.
“Yeah. Like we could dress up and pretend it’s a date. And because you know me, you won’t feel nervous. You’ll get your confidence back so you’re in strong form for your date with Brian.”
She shifted around the sofa and looked at me. I could almost see a thousand thoughts in her head all competing with each other.
I wanted to hear every single one.
“So, we pretend we’re on a date and if I’m a disaster, you can maybe give me pointers?” She didn’t look horrified by the idea.
“Right. And if I do anything outrageous, perhaps you can point them out and—”
“Sounds good,” she said.
The muscles in my neck all let go at the same time. “You’re up for it?” Had she understood what the idea was?
“Yeah. But if we’re splitting the bill, can we not go to that Heston Blummenthingy restaurant? I just walked by there and the prices are insane.”
“What about if I pay?”
“Is that allowed? I mean, doesn’t that violate our split-the-bill rule?”
“For the sake of the experiment, let dinner at Heston Blummenthingy’s restaurant be on me.”
She held my gaze as if she was considering saying something. She looked away. “Okay then, dinner. You and me. What do I wear?”
I picked up my phone again. I’d seen something the other day that I thought would look gorgeous on Hartford. Now was the perfect excuse to buy it for her. “This,” I said, holding up my phone.
“Pretty. But how much?”
“What size are you?”
“They price it depending on size?”
“No, just tell me your size.”
“Twelve UK. Which is why I’m not eating any of your late-night cake.”
I chuckled. She had nothing to worry about. She was perfect. “And shoe size?” If I was going to dress her, it would be head to toe.
“I have shoes,” she said.
“Shoe size?” I’d seen some beautiful Lanvins that would work perfectly with that dress.
“Six. Although they might have grown to a size twelve today. They feel like they’re busting out of my shoes right now.”
“You want a foot rub?” I asked.
A grin unfurled on her face. “You’re the best. But I like you too much to do that to you.”
I smiled back. “I like you enough to mean it when I offer you one.”
“Do you think the neighbors in Borehamwood are as friendly as you?”
I laughed. I hoped not.