Chapter 42 Liam
Liam
“I won’t have room in my flat for that too.” She folded her arms and somehow managed to smile while frowning. I picked up the bunch of pink flowers and passed the stall owner forty quid.
“Yeah, you will. Just put some of the other stuff out of the way. Haven’t you got an airing cupboard you could use for all your old junk?” I raised a brow.
“Liam! I never want to talk about that day again.” She laughed and tried to tap me on the arm like she was cross, but she couldn’t, her arms were so full of flowers.
God, she looked more beautiful than they did, though.
“We’ve already got sunflowers and roses and tulips and”—she turned to the man standing behind the huge display of blooms and pointed at something purple and small—“what are these?”
“Scabiosa.”
“Scabiosa. We really don’t have space at mine.”
God, this woman. Here I was, money no object, and she’d dragged me to a flower market in Bethnal Green.
“You know, we could have grabbed most of this from Florabunda in Mayfair,” I said, knowing full well I’d rather spend the day wandering between stalls selling things that made absolutely no sense to me, but apparently enchanted her.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but Columbia Road is the best flower market in London, we’re here for the atmosphere. Plus, there’s a vagina museum up the road.”
The stall owner looked up.
“A vagina museum?” I asked, under my breath.
“Yes.” She smirked. “I’d have thought you’d be a regular there, what with all your … skills.”
I swallowed. “Are you serious?”
“About your skills?” She leaned in and kissed me on the edge of my jaw. “Please, Liam. Don’t be coy.” She pressed herself against me like she expected a hug.
“About the … museum,” I said quietly, dropping an arm round her.
“Of course,” she said. “It’s only a fifteen-minute walk. I’d suggest we go, but I don’t think you need any tips.”
The stall owner raised his brows and went back to reading his newspaper.
Her phone pinged. “Ooh, one sec. Can you just—”
“No problem.” I held out my arms and stood there while I was piled high with flowers.
She opened the phone and scrolled briefly.
“You okay?” I asked. Her face had changed, or was I imagining that?
“Yes.” She paused. “No.”
“What’s up?”
“Just … the redundancies were confirmed. Who’s going.”
“Yeah, the email went out today,” I said. She was still staring at her phone. “Andrea?”
“On a Sunday?”
“Bonnie’s call.”
She looked away. “It’s okay. I understand why … it just makes it more … real.”
Did she understand? We’d talked about it—how the company wouldn’t make it otherwise—but was there something she wasn’t telling me? Understanding something on paper wasn’t the same as watching people disappear.
“Do you want to get a coffee?” I asked. “We can have a chat about it, if you like.”
She blinked, then smiled quickly and dropped the phone in her bag. “No, it’s … it’s fine. Now’s not the right time.” Her heart looked like it was breaking.
“Andrea, are you sure? We can—”
“No. Thanks. Let’s … go and check out this cactus stall.”
I adjusted the armful of flowers and followed as she moved back into the crowd, keeping close so we didn’t get separated. I put a hand on her back, but she didn’t turn.
Was she really fine? Andrea wasn’t the sort of person to hold back, but this time, I wasn’t sure.