Chapter 2
ELLIE
There must be more to life than this I wondered, not for the first time, as I slipped into The White Hart for my third evening shift in a row.
“You’re late, Eleanor.” My manager, Martin, peered down at his watch like the time offended him personally. “Before you tell me you’re not, by the time you put your things away, you’ll be late.”
Wow. His ability to split hairs was second-to-none.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that. My body anticipated it too, with a red-hot rush of adrenaline. Unfortunately, one of my worst traits was my inability to tell someone they were a complete and utter dick.
“Sorry,” I said, instead of the snarky reply Martin deserved—a reply I’d probably come up with hours later. Thanks, brain. “It’s an ice rink out there so the journey took longer than I thought.”
“Not my problem,” he barked. “Manage your time better.”
“Of course. Sorry.” I faked a smile. It wasn’t exactly my fault I turned into a one-woman performance of Bambi on Ice whenever London had an inch of snow.
“I’ll put my stuff away. Sorry. Give me two minutes.”
“Make it one.”
“Why don’t you give her a break?” Bertie, one of our oldest regulars, shouted from his usual booth in the corner.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Martin snapped back.
Bertie flipped him off.
I offered an apologetic shrug and raced into the back room, shoving my belongings away. I scooped my flattened hat-hair into a neat ponytail, then sent my neighbour slash babysitter, Maggie, a text while I chomped on a half-eaten protein bar found at the bottom of my bag.
Ellie
Arrived in one piece. How is he? Any problems?
Maggie
Not at all. He’s all tucked up cosy on the sofa. Won’t be long before he’s asleep. Looks like an angel.
Ellie
Ha! Did he ask for me?
Maggie
Always, but no tears this time.
Ellie
Progress! Thanks Maggie. I couldn’t do this without you. See you later. X
Maggie
It’s my pleasure dear. Stay safe getting home x
After my performance getting here? Debatable.
With that worry settled, I made my way out to the near-empty bar. Sundays weren’t our slowest nights usually, but the ice and forecast for more snow meant most regulars were staying home. Martin easily could’ve cut me some slack.
Asshole.
What I wouldn’t give to tell him that to his face.
Ha! Yeah right. I had trouble saying boo to a goose.
I need to work on that.
Martin had disappeared and no one needed serving, so I drifted around collecting dirty glasses, wiping tables, and trying not to check my watch. Clock-watching on a slow shift was a fool’s game.
“I can’t believe you told that asshole you were sorry three times,” someone said from the end of the bar. “Three whole times.”
I’d know that voice anywhere.
My pulse did too.
Jake Johnson.
I whirled around to face him, annoyed that my tummy flipped.
It was obvious he didn’t think of me like that—I could count on one hand the times he’d flirted with me in the six months he’d been coming here, and Jake flirted with everyone—but with my life?
I couldn’t afford to think of him like that either.
Still, it didn’t hurt to look, right? With his tight black jumper open at the neck and pushed up his forearms, he looked especially handsome, if not more rumpled than usual.
Blondish brown hair the right amount of dishevelled, a dusting of stubble the right side of unkempt.
Jake was lean but solid, defined in a way that wasn’t immediately noticeable—a Kinder Surprise of Men—but I definitely noticed when he whipped off his t-shirt one time.
Broader than I imagined, I’d dreamed about licking his chest twice that week. Maybe a few times since.
Not that I’d ever tell Jake that. We were friends. Acquaintances? The label didn’t matter. I liked him and I was pretty sure he liked me too.
“Jake. Hi.” I fussed with a stack of cork coasters. “I didn’t see you there. Sorry.”
“You wound me. I should be the first person you see when you walk into the room.”
You are… usually.
But I didn’t say that. I would never. Instead, I rolled my eyes at his teasing, even if he was deadly serious.
Sometimes, it was hard to tell.
“Also, you said it again,” he added. “You say sorry way too much.”
I dropped all pretence of cleaning. “What?”
“You apologised for not seeing me which is impossible unless you had eyes in the back of your head. Before that you told your dickhead manager you were sorry three times. He’s a piece of shit. Don’t apologise to pieces of shit, Ellie.”
He scowled at his glass then knocked back the rest of his drink, slamming it down on the bar with a resounding thud and adding it to the line of empties.
Oh dear.
How is he still standing?
“Aren’t we all pieces of shit sometimes?”
Jake tossed me a look like aw, you’re adorable. “Not you. You’re too nice for your own good.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Yes, it is.”
No. There was no such thing as being too nice, and if there was, well. It’s a problem I’m willing to have. Like my mum used to say, ‘rather that than an asshole.’
“I guess I do say sorry a lot, but it’s an affliction of mine, unfortunately.”
“An affliction,” Jake repeated.
“I’m a people pleaser. One time I almost got hit by a car and I apologised after the driver yelled at me even though it was his fault. The green man said go. I swear it.”
“Ellie.”
“Sorry. I mean… Oh my god, stop looking at me like that.”
He laughed.
“Sometimes I don’t realise I’m saying it. It’s a British thing, isn’t it? That, and queueing.”
“That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake watched me with escalating amusement while I clamped my mouth closed. “You’re trying not to say it again, aren’t you?”
“Why did you have to open my eyes to this?” I said, laughing. “Now I’m going to be hyper aware of saying it.”
“Good. Save your sorries for people who deserve it.”
The severity of his tone surprised me, but then his whole demeanour was off today. Jake was all jokes and banter usually, a cheeky twinkle in his blue eyes and a laid-back charm that made people gravitate towards him.
I would know.
The first time I saw him he’d strolled into the bar laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I’d noticed because, well, I cared about a lot of things.
Too much and too many probably. I never understood how anyone floated through life not worrying about every little thing.
That was part of the reason I found Jake so fascinating.
He was my opposite in every way and there was something incredibly attractive about that.
“Can I get another JD and coke?” he asked, gesturing at the empty glasses. “And before you say anything, those weren’t all mine.”
“Hmm. Really.”
“That one with the lipstick smudge was already here. Promise.”
“Here I thought pink was your colour.”
“Every colour is my colour, Ellie. But lipstick? Too messy. Not my style. Besides, my sister put enough of it on my face when we were kids, thank you.”
I melted at that. “You played dress-up together?”
“No. I’m the youngest so I was forced to be her model. Why are you laughing? I was held against my will.”
“It’s the visual image of you scowling while your sister puts make-up on you. What can I say? It tickles me.”
“I would tell you about when she used to plait my hair, but you don’t deserve to know such things.”
“Oh. That’s disappointing.”
“There were pigtails too. But again, not telling you.”
My smile burst wide, electrified by the frisson of energy whenever we bantered like this.
“I bet you looked adorable,” I said.
“Didn’t feel so adorable when my brothers yanked me around the room like a freaking horse.”
“Even so, I’m sure you were an adorable horse.”
“That goes without saying.”
Our gazes held in amusement until Bertie dumped his pint glass on the bar, snapping his fingers between us.
“Alright. How about you stop flirting so the lovely lady can get me a refill. The usual, please.”
“We weren’t flirting,” I rushed out, then busied myself pouring their drinks, hoping they couldn’t see the heat painting my cheeks.
Blushing was a curse in this world and I was lumbered with it.
“If that was your idea of flirting, Albert.” Jake patted him on the back. “You’ve been out of the game too long.”
“What a load of old bollocks. I created the game.”
“I’m sure you did. You’re old enough.”
“Enough from you, boy. I could run rings around you, and I know flirting when I see it. I’ve got glaucoma, but I’m not an idiot.”
Jake chuckled; the idea probably ridiculous to him. It didn’t feel that way to me, but everything I knew about flirting could fit on the back of a postage stamp. On a gradient of one to useless, I wasn’t on the scale.
I need to work on that too.
“You know,” Bertie drawled, “if you’re looking for someone decent to flirt with, Dave is still available.”
I stared at the beer tap pretending not to hear, then changed the subject—my trick for when conversations made me uncomfortable. Rude, but it worked.
Mostly.
“Will you be okay getting home, Bertie?” I set his drink down and scooped up his scattered change. “It’s icy out there. I don’t want you to fall over.”
“Are you worried he’ll fall over? Or is it just me because you think I’m a frail old man?”
“You, frail? Never.”
“Hmm. There’s still life in these bones yet, you know.”
“Not so much if you break them,” Jake added.
“All I’m saying is be careful.” I cast Jake a pointed ‘you’re not helping’ glare, which he found hilarious for some reason. “I’m not supposed to say this but you’re my favourite.”
“I should hope so,” Bertie muttered, meandering back to his booth.
Once he was settled, I looked at Jake again and straightened, surprised to find him watching me. It took everything to fight the compulsion to smooth out my hair or check my teeth.
“What, uh, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Who’s Dave?”
“Oh. Bertie’s grandson. You’ve talked to him a few times.”
“I have? Can’t have been very memorable,” he mumbled against the rim of his glass. “You don’t want to flirt with Dave? You didn’t answer before.”
“Um.” He seemed like a nice guy, but I didn’t dream about licking his chest. “Not particularly.”
“Good. Dave is a dick. You’re too good for him.”
“You said you didn’t remember him.”
“I just know, Ellie. Trust me. His name’s Dave for starters. Why is Bertie trying to set you up anyway? What’s that all about?”
I grabbed a cloth and started wiping the bar. “No reason.”
“Ellie,” he sang. “You’re a terrible liar. Tell me.”
I thought I was a great liar, actually. “If you must know, he caught me looking at some dating apps, and now he won’t stop mentioning his grandson.”
“Interesting. I never pictured you using dating apps. But ’tis the weekend of surprises.”
“I don’t,” I rushed out, although I wasn’t sure why. I was twenty-five and single. Dating apps were the norm these days. “I guess I was curious? I don’t know. It was near Christmas and—”
“You felt lonely.”
I nodded without meaning to, letting my gaze drift. “I don’t… I don’t have many friends. No one tells you how hard it is to meet people as an adult. At least, I find it hard.”
“Everyone does,” Jake said, matching my quiet tone. “It’s a universal thing.”
“No. You’re confident and can talk to anyone. I can’t even tell my boss to treat me with respect. We’re not the same.”
“Sure we are. I’m better at faking it.”
“You do not fake anything.”
“Everyone fakes it sometimes, even me.”
“Why do I find that so hard to believe?”
“Because I’m good at faking it.”
“Enough with you,” I laughed, flapping a bar towel in his direction.
Jake caught the end of it and we shared another smile and a mini tug of war until his phone vibrated against the bar, erasing his grin instantly. A noise of pure frustration rumbled in his throat before he checked the screen, scowled, then slammed it face down hard enough to crack.
The silence grew fierce and biting.
“Is everything okay?”
“Not really.”
The pub chatter hummed around us while I wondered what to say. I’d never seen Jake like this before. He was clearly going through something, and there was nothing worse than doing that alone.
I knew that feeling all too well.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered. “I’m not great at talking, but I’m a good listener. Comes with the job, I think.”
Plus years of not having the guts to speak my mind.
Jake’s mouth lifted, but not enough to qualify as a smile. “I really don’t. If that’s okay.”
“Of course. Subject change then?”
“That would be preferable.”
Right.
I can do that.
“So… nice weather we’re having?”
Jake snort-laughed. “That’s the best you could do?”
“I told you I wasn’t good at this!” I laughed, my cheeks burning while I ran through my mental checklist of things people liked to talk about. Okay, so weather was off the table. Sports? I didn’t know much about them—
“Oh! I know. What about your sister’s wedding?”
A happier topic, even if Jake had spent the last month whining about wearing a suit. I wasn’t sure why. His shoulders were made for them.
“That was yesterday, right?”
“It was,” he said with another weary sigh. “But that would still be talking about it.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
“That bad?”
“No, the wedding went off without a hitch.”
“But then why—”
“I found my brother kissing my friend Avery, who also happens to be my roommate, and now I don’t know what to do, or if I can go home. Or if I want to go home. So… yeah.” He clinked his drink with an imaginary glass mid-air. “Cheers to that!”
I stared as the puzzle pieces of the night slotted together. Now his weird mood made sense, even if it did open a whole umbrella of new questions.
Why is he so upset?
Does he have feelings for her?
Is he jealous?
My heart dropped with each check against my own curiosity.
“I’m sorry,” I managed eventually.
“Am I crazy, Ellie? Tell me. Do I have a right to be angry about this?”
What do I even say to that?
I had no idea. I was an only child and my closest friend was my sixty-eight-year-old neighbour. This kind of scenario would never happen to me.
“I think everyone is entitled to their feelings,” I settled on. “You can’t help how you feel. Did you try talking to them?”
“No, I punched him in the face and got the hell out of there.”
Oh my.
Why is that so hot?
“Well, perhaps some space is best. I find distance from something always gives clarity. You never know, maybe it was a one-off and they got swept up in the romance of the day. Weddings do that.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get that impression.” Seeming troubled by the thought, he let that linger, then drained his drink. “I don’t want to think about this anymore. I wanna drink until I don’t remember any of this bullshit.”
“Aren’t you doing that already?”
“Oh, Ellie.” His wicked grin widened. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”