36. RAFE
RAFE
“She’s doing well. Your bit on the side,” Julian says, flashing his phone at me, where he has Diana’s social media open.
He’s looking altogether too comfortable as he sits in my office on the other side of my desk.
When Henry told him the truth about Diana, his eyes nearly popped out.
He couldn’t believe that she was the woman from the elevator at Delirium.
Best piece of gossip he’s ever heard, apparently.
I wish he’d never told him. Having Henry know was bad enough, but it feels too raw to have Julian talk about Diana as though she didn’t break my heart.
Henry, hands in his pockets, is staring out the office window. He’s been silent for minutes, watching the rain stream down the glass.
Julian shakes his phone to get my attention, and begrudgingly, I give it to him.
A video of Diana sitting around a table with some Hollywood A-listers discussing the newest book to movie adaptation is playing.
He scrolls and flashes up pictures of her in one of the Erica Lefroy dresses I bought her, lilac this time, walking the red carpet for some function or other, waving and smiling like she’s having the time of her life.
If you know where to look, Diana Marchetti is everywhere.
I reach across and snatch his phone, clicking it to turn the screen dark. I haven’t watched a single video of her since she left, but every so often, Lizzie sends me a link accompanied by a message that reads something like, ‘Look at this! Isn’t Diana doing well?’
And she is. She’s doing really well, making a name for herself. I’m so proud, it’s unreal.
She doesn’t need me at all. I’m glad of it because I know she hated being dependent, but sometimes it feels like I need her. The penthouse is empty without her, and that buzz I used to feel opening my front door, knowing I’d find her inside waiting for me, is gone.
“She was never my bit on the side,” I say, straining to keep the bitterness from my voice.
“Who’d have thought it?” Henry says, turning to face us. “Rafe Bastion, rejected by a woman half his age.”
In my mind, I hear Diana’s words from the night at the opera. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to leave you. And yet she did just that.
I rub my fingertips over my forehead. “Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends. And she’s not half my age. That’s an exaggeration.”
Julian’s smirk vanishes, and he leans in, brow furrowed. “We know this is tough.”
I clench my teeth, shooting him a don’t-you-fucking-dare-get-soft-on-me look. His teasing might be irritating, but the last thing I need is sympathy from Julian Maxstead.
“It’s not a good look on you, Rafe.” Henry points to my face. “Pining. You’re wasting away. Are you still swimming?”
I flinch. “No.”
Henry exhales a slow sigh, pity filling his gaze. “You look like you need feeding. Please, eat a decent meal when you get home.”
“I’m fine,” I retort, although I could probably eat more. I’ve replaced at least half my suits because I’ve lost weight.
“Give Melanie another go,” Julian says, his voice softer than usual. “She’s everything you need, I swear. Beautiful, successful, interesting.”
“Not only that,” Henry adds, stepping towards us, hands back in his pant pockets. “Did you know she’s on the board of that luxury goods conglomerate? What’s it called? The one Arthur Knatchbull heads up.”
“Knatchbull Luxury Goods,” I fill in, raising an eyebrow to imply he ought to have remembered.
“Yeah. That one.” Henry snaps his fingers. “Anyway, she could keep up with you in business terms.”
I shoot him a glare. “If you’re so keen on her, why don’t you take her out yourself?”
“Because she likes you.” He pauses, wincing. “And she laughs like a hyena. I can’t hack the noise.”
“You’d be fine,” I hit back. “You’re not remotely funny.”
Julian snorts, and Henry lets out a rollicking laugh, but I’m not paying either of them any attention because it’s raining, and all I can think about is Diana telling me we should have kissed in the rain. That’s the next beat.
How many opportunities did I miss with her? How many times could I have kissed her and held her and made love to her? I let them slip through my fingers because I was so fucking desperate to prove I didn’t want her. Desperate lies I told myself over and over.
I had her. I fucking had her in my house, in my bed, and I let her go.
It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
“So,” Julian says. “You going to tell Lizzie?”
“Tell her what?”
“That you fucked her best friend.”
I drop my head into my hands. “No, of course I’m not going to tell her. I’m going to take it to my grave.”
“No one likes a liar, Rafe,” Henry interrupts. “And these things always come out in the wash.”
“Well, this won’t,” I state. “I need to get my head back in the game, focus on work. The business. Nailing that Castow Management deal.”
“I’m telling you.” Julian taps my desk, an eager expression on his face. “Nail Melanie Castow, and you’ll have the deal signed, sealed, and delivered. Extremely efficient use of your time. I know you appreciate efficiency.”
My phone buzzes, and I hold up a finger to signal that I need to check it. My stomach flips when I see it’s from Diana.
I hope you’re well. I wanted to let you know that my online course launched yesterday, and I made a thousand pounds. I wanted to say thank you. I’ve never made that much money in one day, ever. Thank you so much for helping me. I’ll owe you forever. D x
I stare at the message, reading it over and over, imagining Diana speaking the words and wishing there were more of them. I can almost hear her excitement, and I’m delighted she shared her success with me.
“Yesssss,” I hiss, fisting my hand and pumping the air.
“Good news?” Henry asks, nodding at my phone. “Is it the Castow deal?”
I can’t stop grinning. “Diana made a grand on launch day.”
Henry pulls back, perplexed. “A thousand pounds?”
“Yes,” I say far too loud. “On her online course. Isn’t that brilliant?”
Julian’s eyebrows shift towards his hairline as he and Henry glance warily at one another. “I’ve never seen you so excited about a thousand pounds,” he says. “Normally, it takes fifty mill to see a hint of emotion from you.”
“Absolute fucking disaster,” Henry mutters, just loud enough that I can hear it.
Ignoring both of them, I turn my attention back to my phone, my cheeks aching from smiling as I compose my response.
Henry clamps his hand over mine, yanking my phone out of my grip. “Let me see that.”
“Hey!” I blurt.
He scans the message from Diana. “She’s just letting you know. She doesn’t ask any questions. This isn’t an invitation to reconnect. Tell me what you want to say, and I’ll type.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I tell him.
“Would you rather let Julian do it?” Henry asks.
Julian holds out both hands like he’s begging for my phone.
“No,” I admit. “But I still think you’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m not.” Henry curses as he drags a hand down his face. “But I’m not going to allow you to make a fool of yourself. You’re a middle-aged man, for fuck’s sake. She’s twenty-one.”
“On the plus side,” Julian interjects. “He’s broken the cycle.”
“What cycle?” I ask.
“The one where you only sleep with women who could be potential step-mothers to Lizzie. Diana could never be that.”
I groan, hating that we’re mentioning my daughter now, and hating that my friends seem to know my every feeling, even when I haven’t explicitly told them. “And you’re eager to shove me back into that cycle with Melanie fucking Castow?”
“Maybe it’s a good cycle after all?” Julian offers meekly.
“Maybe if you keep going round enough times”—he swirls his index finger in a circular motion—“you’ll finally find a good woman in it.
Maybe you shouldn’t be allowed out of the cycle after all because when you escape the choices you make are… ill-advised.”
I shoot daggers at him, but Julian merely shrugs. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d have followed Diana into that lift too. I still would.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.” I tilt back in my chair and interlink my hands behind my head, adding with controlled vitriol, “That makes me feel like killing you.”
“Go on,” Henry says to me, gesturing with my phone, which he’s still holding. “Tell me what you want to say.”
“Fuck, I don’t know. Congratulations? That’s great? I’m so proud of you?”
Henry starts typing, then pauses. “Not that last bit. Too personal.” He finishes the message and sends it without showing me.
“There. Detached. Professional, but supportive.” He angles the screen to show Julian, who gives a thumbs up.
“Don’t send her anything else,” Henry finishes, handing me back my phone.
“And meet with Melanie again.” Julian drums his hands on my desk. “Get the deal over the line. She’s much more fun than I thought she was in that first meeting. She’s dynamic, ambitious. She’s everything you are, but in a skirt.”
“Thanks,” I say, voice heavy with sarcasm. “That’s exactly what I want in a partner.”
Henry flashes me a sympathetic smile. “You want the deal, though, right?”
I did. I wanted that deal. That agency. But it doesn’t seem nearly as important as it did before. I can’t bring myself to care. But I know I should want it, and I know Henry expects me to say yes, so I do.
“Then go get it,” Henry says, but I can tell from his lacklustre tone that he knows I’m not nearly as invested as I once was.
He excuses himself, taking Julian with him. I bid them farewell, and when they’re gone, I check my sent messages, opening up the one to Diana.
Me: Well done. You’re exceptional. I am so proud of you.
Rafe.