Chapter Fourteen
River eyes me curiously as I sob and apologise for the awkwardness of the sobbing.
‘You uh, need a Kleenex?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve not got any. Toilet roll will do.’
River disappears into the bathroom, reappearing with a wad of loo roll big enough to mop up a litre of water. I thank him, tearing a few sheets off and blowing my nose. When I plop down onto the edge of my bed, River takes a seat in the armchair opposite. ‘So you’ve got it real bad for old Henry.’
I give him a ‘duh’ look. ‘We were in a relationship for four years. That’s proper. A person can’t just get over that.’
‘Four years?’ River looks confused. ‘But you two were so polite to each other. Like you’d just met.’
‘What do you mean?’
River sticks his nose in the air, adopting a terribly plummy British accent. ‘Are you well? I am well. All is well with I. Is all well with you? Quite well, yes!’
I tut at his dumb and inaccurate impression. ‘It’s not like we could be our true selves with you standing there, gawking at us the whole time. You could have given us a little privacy.’
‘And go where?’ River asks, indicating himself in nothing but a towel, and my tiny single-room apartment.
‘Even if I’d hidden out in your bathroom, I’d have heard everything.
’ He folds his arms, bulging biceps making him look like a hot Popeye.
‘Anyway, it was good I was there. Old Henry was seething with jealousy.’
‘He was?’ I perk up for a brief moment.
‘Of course he was. He clearly didn’t expect to see another man around here. He did not like it.’
I tut. ‘But that’s a bad thing. I don’t want Henry to think I’m involved with someone else.’ I grab my phone from the table. ‘I should text him now. Just to clarify. To definitely definitely let him know that you are just—’
‘Wait a second …’ River cuts in then, voice almost a whisper. ‘What if that’s it?’ His eyes meet mine. ‘That’s gotta be it.’
‘What?’ I ask, using another piece of toilet paper to wipe beneath my eyes.
‘Gertie, you said last night that at the first manifestation ceremony you asked for Henry to want you back—’
‘I mean, I mainly asked for help with my book. But yeah, I did sort of tag a Henry-related request on to the end.’
‘So what if that’s why I’m here?’ River jumps up from the chair and starts to pace around the flat, clearly warming up to his theory. ‘Specifically me? To help you get what you asked for? To help get your fella back?’
I screw up my face. ‘No, I … I don’t think that’s it. No offence, but if any of my Bedlam Creek characters were to literally jump off the page to help mend my broken heart it would hardly be you.’
‘Not a character, Gertie.’
‘But—’
‘I seriously reckon this is worth considering,’ River urges, pacing a whole lap of the flat in about four strides.
‘I wouldn’t know a damn thing about helping you overcome your writer’s block because I ain’t a writer and frankly I do not believe in writer’s block.
You think ranchers get rancher’s block? You reckon there’s such a thing as surgeon’s block?
Or train driver’s block? Please. It’s just a job.
And while I may not know a whole bunch about writing, I do know a hell of a lot about seduction … ’
‘Oh jeez.’
He toys with the edge of his Stetson. ‘Look, I have never ever been turned down by a woman. Not once in my life. And working on a ranch full of men, I know a whole lot about how the male mind works, what guys like and don’t like.
Plus I’m a man who gets things done. I’m a man who is perfectly equipped to help you with this problem.
Specifically, this problem. And anyhow, didn’t you say yesterday that you had trouble writing soon after Henry dumped you? ’
‘Pretty much within the hour. But FYI –’ I hold a finger in the air – ‘he did not dump me. We’re on a break.’
River waves my point away airily. ‘Potatoes, potahtoes. What I’m saying is that technically getting Henry back could resolve the writing problem too. Right?’
I snort and stand up from the bed, crossing my arms over my chest. ‘I can’t just “get him back”. He asked for time to consider the relationship, whether it’s what he truly wants.’
River rolls his eyes. ‘So you make him see it’s what he wants. If there’s one thing I know it’s that almost anyone can be persuaded, once you’ve got the measure of them. Trust me on that. You just have to show him what he’s losing without you. Make him feel it in his bones.’
I glance at the photo of Henry that’s sitting on the mantlepiece.
I know I should have put it away in a cupboard the moment he told me he was no longer sure about me, but I simply can’t bring myself to do it.
I couldn’t go cold turkey when I quit full-fat coke in 2023, I couldn’t go cold turkey when I decided to stop watching Grey’s Anatomy after Cristina Yang left, and I cannot go cold turkey now.
River follows my gaze to the photograph of Henry and picks it up and then scratches his head. ‘Is he wearing a monocle?’
‘It was a joke. It was fancy dress for a costume party. He doesn’t actually wear a monocle.’ Although he did once consider it.
River’s lip curls with distaste. ‘I know plenty of fellas like that, fellas who would break an arm just to pat themselves on the back. Windbags.’ He squints at the picture. ‘What’s he do for a living? I’m guessing navel-gazing short stories for some obscure literary zine?’
I take umbrage. ‘Henry is a serious, brilliant writer. We were in true love.’
‘True love.’ River scoffs. ‘Well, if old Henry was in “true love” with you four weeks ago, maybe we just have to remind him of those feelings. Stage a little seduction. Ignite a little jealousy.’ He puts the picture back on the mantlepiece face down and looks at me, his expression imploring.
‘I really think this could be why I’m here, Gertie.
What other reason could it be? I can teach you my ways.
We can make Mr Serious Writer see what he’s missing.
Make him so jealous, so desperate to be with you, so full of regret for ever thinking he could survive without you, that he loses his damn mind. ’
I get a vision of Henry banging at the front door, begging me to forgive him for not believing in our future, promising to do whatever it takes to make it up to me, screaming that he can’t exist for even another second without me, asking me to make him the happiest man on earth and marry him without delay.
‘That would be nice,’ I murmur wistfully.
‘In the movies, when these weird magical fuck-ups happen it’s always always something to do with … you know …’ River’s face tightens.
‘Love?’
‘Yeah. Love. So maybe that’s why I’m here. To help you get him back. I can help you, Gertie.’
Hmmm. I have to admit, his confidence is intriguing.
I allow myself to fantasise about Henry moving back in and everything going back to the way it was.
The house filled once more with the low soothing burr of his voice, the scratch of his fountain pen against high-quality writing paper, the feel of his arm flung comfortingly across my body while I try to get to sleep.
Being with Henry again would be like climbing under a metaphorical weighted blanket.
Safe. Secure. Certain. Tucked in. No more Boyz II Men.
No more bath wailing. No more feeling this lonely. This useless.
‘Do you … do you think that’s even possible?’ I ask. ‘Making Henry desperate to be with me?’
River hooks his thumbs into his belt. ‘With my expert help? Anything’s possible. Wait … Wasn’t that party invitation …’ He wanders over to the fridge and plucks the thick cream card invitation from beneath its magnet. He clears his throat.
‘Henry Irving and Gertie Bickerstaff are invited to the idyllic Buckinghamshire village of Little Crumpet in honour of Jim Kellerman’s 40th Birthday Shenanigans. Birthday Shenanigans? My God. This is the party Henry was talking about? This weekend?’
‘Yes?’
‘Then that gives us only a day to prepare.’
‘Prepare? For what?’
River slaps the invitation haphazardly beneath a different magnet and meets my eyes. ‘Prepare to show Henry what he’s missing.’
‘But how?’ I ask, taking the invitation back off the fridge and putting it back neatly under the correct magnet.
‘We let him see you full pelt with another man. Make him so jealous he won’t rest until you’re back in his arms.’
I nod slowly. ‘So fake dating?’
River rolls his eyes. ‘Fake dating? Nah, Gertie. Fake fucking.’
I swallow hard, my eyes widening, my cheeks feeling a little hot. I may write about these things. And I certainly read about these things. I do not live them. People like me do not live these things.
‘I’m not sure,’ I start. ‘I’m not exactly—’
River jumps in. ‘You get Henry back, solve your “writer’s block”, and fingers fucking crossed, I’ll magic back home before the land auction and save Bedlam Creek from ruin.’
‘That simple?’
‘Well, clearly no. Whatever is going on here is about as far from simple as it’s possible to get. I have no clue what’s happening, just like you.’ He huffs. ‘But this is my best guess.’
I fold my arms. ‘I can’t just turn up in Little Crumpet.
Jim is Henry’s friend more than mine. I was only invited to the party as Henry’s plus one.
I’ll probably start crying again as soon as I see him.
And as you’ve just witnessed, I am not one of those pretty, one-glistening-tear-trailing-a-poreless-cheek criers.
I don’t want to ruin the party. Jim’s been excited for this weekend since he started planning it a year ago.
There has to be another way for us to fix this situation …
I don’t know what that might be, but maybe we just need to sit down and do some brain storming?
Or we could go to the library? Or to a doctor so that we can definitely definitely make sure I’m not losing my mind? ’
River steps decidedly over to me, so close the rim of his Stetson casts a shadow over my eyes.
My heart beasts faster, which once again surprises me because, while this man is undeniably hot, the burly, surly alpha thing has never been my type.
What I find much sexier is wit, compassion, dreamy blue eyes the colour of deep sea. Henry.
I feel the soft warmth of River’s breath on my face. It smells like whisky and … my toothpaste? Did River brush his teeth when he was in the bathroom? Did he use my toothbrush?
‘What other ideas do you have to get us out of this, Gertie?’ he asks, eyes flashing with frustration. ‘I’m all ears.’
I drag my eyes away from his, bury my head in my hands and sigh.
I have zero ideas. The ceremony last night was a literal wash-out.
Could it actually be possible that River Oakley is here to help me with Henry?
To help heal my broken heart? In my novels, what makes River Oakley so dangerous is his ability to charm almost anyone into falling for him.
I could definitely use a bit of that power.
But the thought of him getting all up in my relationship?
The thought of having to pretend to be into River in front of Henry? That makes me very very nervous indeed.
‘I have things to tend to, Gertie,’ River says seriously. He crouches down so that his eyes are level with mine. ‘Important things. I have to get home. I have obligations.’ His shoulders slump. ‘Endless obligations and promises to keep.’
‘But what if—’
River growls in frustration before I can even finish the sentence.
‘Gertie, this is the only idea we have right now. In the absence of any better solutions we are doing this. Come hell or high water, I’m going to show you how to get Henry back.
Okay? If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but until we get a better idea, this is what we’re doing. It’s decided.’
I hold my hands up. ‘Okay! Fine.’
River nods. ‘Good. Now did you keep any videos of this guy? I’m gonna need a lot more information to work with if we have any hope of pulling this off.’