Chapter 42 Cornelia
Cornelia
“Where are we going?” I ask Benedict Glounger.
We’re sitting in the back seat, being chauffeured by my driver.
We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, but we’ve mostly stayed in or gone to low-key places to avoid the press.
We don’t want them spinning stories about us when we don’t even know what this is ourselves.
Unfortunately for me, it isn’t my specialty to dodge paparazzi, so Benedict has been the one deciding where we go.
The only thing I know from what he told me is that it’s casual.
He smiles. “It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises,” I say pointedly. Never have, never will. “Come on, give me a clue—or you could just tell me where we’re going. I’m fine either way.”
“Hold your horses, we’re almost there, and I bet you’re going to like it,” he tells me, tugging at the collar of his white T-shirt like he’s hot. He’s almost always in one and jeans. His style reminds me of Lucian.
I narrow my eyes at him. “That didn’t sound like a clue.”
Benedict chuckles at that.
I lean forward towards the seats in front, deciding to take a different approach to get my answer. “Joe,” I call out to my driver, and he glances at me. “Where are we going?”
Either Benedict got to him first, or he overheard our conversation and sided with him because he shrugs, not answering me.
How unfair is it that Joe knows and I don’t? Well, he ought to know, given he’s the one driving us, but still…
I throw myself back into the seat and pout.
Benedict looks at me and laughs a little. “You weren’t taught patience as a kid, were you?”
I shake my head and smile. “Not really.”
He leans forward and kisses me. I must say, that’s a pretty damn good tactic to make me stop asking questions.
Benedict was right—I do like it. We’re at Gordon’s Wine Bar, seated in the cave-like space inside. It’s cosy, the lights are dim and relaxed, and I’m happy in any place that has a lot of wine.
We ordered multiple types of wine, each paired with a cheese.
“I think… this one is my favourite,” I say, pointing to one of the last wines we’ve tried, as I’ve already forgotten its name. “But I’m not sure if it’s because of the cheese pairing. The first one was also really good, but I didn’t like the cheese as much.”
Benedict is about to say something when he suddenly tenses, his gaze locking onto something behind me. Curious, I turn to see what has caught his attention, and I spot a person walking straight towards us.
I don’t like putting labels on people, but a lot of people's brains do it on autopilot—it helps them make sense of the world more easily. And sadly, my mind falls into that group. Right now, it’s struggling to settle on one.
So… they, which in my mind feels like the rightful pronoun to use for someone whose pronouns I’m unsure of, have very soft facial features that you’d mostly attribute to a woman, but a physical build usually associated with a man.
They have short platinum hair and are wearing a purple coat.
But anyway, who cares? After all, we’re in the 21st century.
“I’m sorry,” Benedict mutters to me before the person reaches our table.
I’m a little confused as to why he’s apologising, but my doubt vanishes when I hear a fake cough behind me—the kind people use to grab attention.
“Maxine,” Benedict calls out as he stands up, his voice neutral.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Maxine says to Benedict, as if they weren’t the one to approach us in the first place.
I’m confused about what kind of game this is, but nonetheless, I stand up to greet them.
“Maxine, this is Cornelia. Cornelia, this is Maxine.” Benedict gestures between us.
I extend my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Maxine takes my hand with a firm grip. “I’m Benedict’s ex-partner.”
Benedict’s gaze drops, looking embarrassed.
“And what are you two?” Maxine asks, looking between Benedict and me with a raised eyebrow.
I look at Benedict, and he looks at me, as if he’s also waiting for an answer.
I think for a second about what to answer. “Friends,” I settle on.
That’s the best definition that comes to mind. Technically, the best definition would be friends who are constantly kissing and hooking up, but I wasn’t about to say that to someone I’d just met, and someone who isn’t being particularly nice.
“Friends, I see,” Maxine says in a way that sounds like an insult. “Well, I better go, but it was nice seeing you, Benedict,” they finish and walk away.
That was interesting.
I sit back in my seat, and Benedict does the same. “So, back to where we were,” I clap my hands. “What’s your least and most favourite wine?”
He looks at me funny.
“What?” I ask.
“Don’t you have any questions?” he replies, looking confused.
“No, should I?” I think I got it all—they’re exes with a weird relationship. I got one of those, too.
“You really are a breath of fresh air,” Benedict Glounger says with a smile, which makes me smile. “So, we’re friends then?”
“Are you fine with that?”
He grins. “I am, as long as there is an opportunity for a promotion.”
I think there might be.
I hope there is.