Chapter Eight
Elle
We gathered our purses and went out through the wide-open double doors onto the roof garden.
All the tables were crowded but they were spaced out and surrounded by long, leafy plants and glowing lanterns, creating little pockets of privacy.
The height of the surrounding buildings gave it the feeling of a fishbowl, but in a nice way.
It was good to feel small. It made my problems feel smaller, too.
We linked arms and walked slowly down the central aisle between the square tables next to the building and the sofas with their steamer-trunk coffee tables lining the edge of the roof, checking for a spare seat.
‘He’s over there, I think. In the corner; beige sofa, surrounded by many, many yuppies,’ Keisha murmured to me and we carried on meandering, getting closer so I might be able to make out his features properly.
A tall man with dark hair and a light blue shirt was sitting on an armchair, one ankle resting on his knee, his back to the amazing view behind him, seemingly engaged in conversation with the other people in the group.
As he reached for his drink he looked over.
Straight at us. There was nowhere to take cover unless we dived into the shrubbery – but I wasn’t inclined to do that.
There was also no question now. It was him. Cartwright, Stephen Cartwright. And seeing him face to face was a jolt to my system. He looked even better than I remembered. Maybe it was the beard? It suited him.
‘Is it him?’ Keisha hissed.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘He’s still staring.’
‘Yup.’ A little devil poked at me and I gave him a cheeky wave.
Maybe he’d just think I was being friendly after he stepped in with his obnoxious colleague or maybe he’d remember that we knew each other.
I wanted him to, I realised. I wanted him to figure out it was me and I wanted to see how he’d handle it.
Would he continue ignoring me? Would he be angry and give me a piece of his mind?
‘Let’s stand over here.’ I pulled her over to a little space between the seating where you could admire the view without encroaching on anyone’s privacy.
‘Would you mind getting us another drink?’ I pulled out a couple of bills from my wallet for my round.
‘If he does recognise me, it’ll be the perfect opportunity for him to come over, won’t it? ’
‘Same again?’
I nodded and tipped the last of it back, handing her the empty glass.
When she was gone, I glanced back over at Stephen.
He wasn’t staring anymore; some woman was sitting on the edge of the coffee table practically leaning into his lap and taking up all his attention.
I crunched down on my peppermint candy cane and turned towards the view instead.
The balmy air lifted tendrils of my hair and cooled my face as I leaned on the wall, little lights swimming like luminescent algae along the river of traffic below, as I waited… and waited.
Keisha returned with our drinks. We chatted about the genuine research she was doing for a historical novel she was plotting, while sipping the sweet alcohol.
I looked over and caught Stephen’s eye a couple of times but he stayed right where he was.
I went to fetch the drinks the next time and I thought I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked up toward the bar.
I skirted someone who was pushing their chair out, and the buckle on my sandal slipped, the strap sliding down and catching under my heel, making me stumble. A hand caught my elbow and stopped me from falling for the second time that evening.
Stephen appeared beside me. Mr Tall, Dark-Haired and Handsome. Neatly laundered, with perfect posture and the face of a Calvin Klein model.
‘Why hello, Mr Cartwright.’ I appraised him with barely concealed satisfaction. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist coming over. ‘You finally decided to come say hi properly.’ I righted myself on my stupid sandal and still barely came up to his shoulder.
‘Hello, Ms Kingston.’ A smile touched the edge of his mouth, but his expression didn’t soften. There was a coiled tension in his body as he stood near me, despite the hands he’d slipped into his trouser pockets. So, he was trying to appear relaxed. ‘I didn’t realise it was you earlier.’
‘I didn’t think so. Would you have left me victim to your friend’s attentions if you had?’
‘He’s not a friend.’ He darted a glance over my shoulder towards the group he was with but looked away quickly, furrowing his brow at his shoes. ‘And he was being extremely rude – why would I have subjected you to that?’
‘I dunno. Revenge maybe? For the whole New Year’s Eve thing.’
His brown eyes flicked back up to me. I’d forgotten how rich their colour was: coffee and chocolate, but there was something a little feverish about them too tonight.
Probably alcohol, though he didn’t seem that drunk.
‘You win some, you lose some,’ he replied with an enigmatic shrug of his shoulders and I felt a bite of disappointment.
Indifference – the worst of all forms of regard. I hadn’t mattered enough to hurt his pride. But I summoned a blithe smile. ‘It’s big of you not to mind losing.’
He gave a small laugh and leaned in closer. He smelt like my cocktail tasted and had nearly the same effect on my brain. His voice pitched low as it neared my ear. ‘It’s easier to accept when I know the loss wasn’t entirely mine.’
My senses returned as he stepped back again. ‘Oh wow, you think I missed out?’
‘It was a noble sacrifice for the sake of your friend’s happiness.’
‘Oh my God, your ego,’ I spluttered.
‘Don’t be such a hypocrite.’ He tutted. ‘You thought I would be aggrieved because I didn’t get to spend a night with you, didn’t you? Why is it so hard to imagine I would think the same?’
My mouth flapped open.
‘Goodnight, Noelle, enjoy the rest of your evening.’ He winked at me and walked away.