Chapter 30
30
GRETA
Waking up in Ewan’s bed the next morning, just as the warm glow of the sun peeks through a tiny gap in the curtains, my mind teems with memories from last night – each one more swoon-worthy than the last.
I have never known sex to be like that, especially the first time with someone.
I sigh quietly, basking in the sensations of my still-thrumming body, which was taken to the brink and back – twice .
‘Good morning,’ Ewan murmurs in my ear. He snuggles closer, big spoon to my little one, and starts kissing my neck. I close my eyes as his lips send shivers down my spine. His hand slides onto my waist, pulling me to him, and I reach for it as my eyes flutter open.
That’s when I realise there’s a dog watching us.
‘Um, Ewan?’
‘Mmm?’ He keeps kissing my neck until I gently nudge him in the stomach. ‘What’s up?’
‘Look.’
He lifts himself up and peers over my head.
‘Remy, out !’ he bellows.
Remy makes a whiny doggy noise that sounds like ‘aww’, which makes me giggle, then trots off, his claws clacking on the wooden floorboards.
‘At least he didn’t see anything,’ I say, sitting up. ‘Unless he was watching us last night.’
Ewan presses his palms into his eyes. ‘Oh god – hopefully not.’ He drops his hands and looks at me. ‘I’m sorry – I should have been paying more attention.’
‘I’d say your attention was exactly in the right place.’
‘Is that so?’ he asks, the left corner of his mouth curling up.
I lean over and press my mouth to his. ‘That is so.’ My eyes flick to his bedside table where his phone shows the time, and I groan.
‘Are you going to love me then leave me?’ he asks, wriggling closer and sliding his hand up my back.
‘I don’t want to,’ I say, relaxing into his embrace.
I’m so tempted to call in sick, but what would I say? ‘Hello, this is Greta Davies. Can you please tell Anjali that I’m having lots of lovely sex and don’t want to get out of bed?’ I’m sure that would go down a treat, especially as we’re still in crisis-management mode – albeit at the tail end, but it’s a terrible time to skive off work.
‘But I have to,’ I say.
‘I could call in on your behalf. Tell a fantastical lie about why you can’t possibly come into work today.’
The word ‘lie’ feels like a pinprick to my heart. After last night – and this morning – I’m 99 per cent certain Ewan and I are embarking on a relationship. I ignore the irritating reminder that I haven’t been truthful with him about my writing assignment – but no need to bring it up now that it’s behind me.
‘What’s going on in that head of yours?’ he asks.
‘Oh, just trying to figure out if I need to shoot home quickly or if I can leave from here.’
Greta! Yet another lie! Though a pertinent one. I glance at the time again and do a quick series of calculations. If I leave directly from here in the next fifteen minutes, I should make it into Nouveau before nine.
‘Last chance – I am fully prepared to call your boss and tell them you’re on doggy daycare duty.’
I chuckle. ‘I already adore Remy, but I wouldn’t want to stay here without you.’
‘Oh, no, in this scenario I’m calling in sick too. I can do that, you know, being the owner.’
‘Tempting…’
He cups my cheek with one hand and leans closer to kiss me. Oh, I could so lie here in this bed all day, just talking and…
‘Nope!’ I say, abruptly sitting upright.
Ewan responds with surprised laughter. ‘Hopefully that wasn’t an indictment of my kissing skills. I’m a little rusty, but…’
‘Definitely not that,’ I say, flinging back the covers and climbing out of bed. ‘But if I stay in this bed a moment longer, I will be late, and the repercussions will be… let’s just say, unpleasant .’ I begin scouting the room for my clutch and my clothes when it suddenly occurs to me that I’m completely naked, something I haven’t been in front of a man for ages.
I glance back to the bed where Ewan has propped his head up on two pillows and is watching me with a lusty expression on his face. I can conclusively say I’ve never had a lover who’s looked at me like that.
I stand still, cocking one hip and placing a hand on the other, meeting his eye with newfound confidence.
‘You are so sexy, you know that?’ he growls, and it takes all my willpower not to launch myself onto the bed and call in with that paltry excuse he fabricated.
‘Why, thank you, Mr Wilder. I could say the same about you.’
We hold each other’s gaze for a while longer and I am serious danger of my nethers erupting into flames.
‘Right!’ I say, snapping out of my sex-themed trance. ‘Shower!’
With Ewan accommodating all my (non-sexual) needs – a shower, a coffee, a cronut for the Tube, a kiss goodbye, and a promise to call later – I arrive at Nouveau twenty minutes before my first meeting. That’s just enough time to steal into The Wardrobe and raid their make-up stash.
I’m applying some cream blush when Mimi comes to stand behind me, meeting my eye in the mirror.
‘Hi, Mimi.’
‘Hello,’ she says with a smirk. ‘I haven’t seen you in here before – like this… to… er…’ She draws a circle around her face with the forefinger.
‘To make myself up because I spent the night somewhere else?’ I proffer.
She’s shocked for a moment, but then she cackles with laughter. ‘Oh, to be that young again,’ she says with a sigh.
She wanders off towards her desk, but her words echo in my ear. For weeks now, I’ve been telling myself that the biological clock is ticking, and that I may have left it too late to fall in love and start a family.
Now I’m seeing Ewan – wonderful, funny, kind, sexy Ewan – and the life I want seems within reach for the first time.
And I am still young – relatively speaking. If I live as long as my Oma, who’s still as bright as a button aged ninety-six, I’m barely a third of the way through my life.
‘So stop being such a drama queen about ageing,’ I tell myself in the mirror.
I select a mini mascara from the vast array and do my lashes, then regard myself. My hair has this sexy, mussed-up vibe and my make-up – hastily applied from samples – will do. Ewan even ironed my clothes while I was in the shower – darling man.
I stand and regard myself in the mirror.
‘Greta Fucking Davies, badass editor and recently shagged woman, at your service.’
Poppy
I arrive home on Wednesday evening to find Evie sitting at the breakfast bar, sobbing. Tristan meets my eye, panicked and telegraphing ‘Help’ with his eyes.
I dump my belongings on the hallstand and cross to her.
‘Evie, what’s wrong?’ I ask, wrapping her up in a hug.
‘I’m sorry to show up unannounced but Liv’s away and I didn’t know what else to do.’
It’s a good thing I speak ‘sobbing woman’ fluently – if I didn’t, that would have been totally unintelligible. I look to Tristan, who shrugs at me.
I hold Evie, letting her have a good cry while rubbing her back. When her sobs start to diminish, I release her. Tristan’s had the forethought to place a box of tissues on the kitchen counter and I snatch up a handful and offer them to Evie.
‘Thank you,’ she says, taking them, but her nose is blocked and it comes out ‘dankoo’.
‘Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea?’ I’ve always found tea to be the perfect panacea when everything feels too much.
She blinks at me, her lashes still wet. ‘Can I have wine?’ she whines.
Tristan quickly goes to the fridge and takes out a bottle of Chardonnay, pours a glass, and slides it across the counter to Evie. She takes it and downs a big glug.
‘And water, I reckon, Tris.’ He nods and comes back with a highball brimming with water. ‘Drink that, Evie,’ I say, pointing to the water, ‘then let’s go sit in the lounge and you can tell me what’s happened.’
She complies, much like a woeful child would. Shortly after, she and I are installed on one of our sofas, each with a glass of wine, Evie facing me, sitting cross-legged. Tristan brings over the tissues, then signals he’s going into the bedroom.
‘Right, so, what’s going on?’
‘It’s Tyler…’ she wails.
I’d figured as much – that little weasel. I thought it might take more than a pep talk and a girls’ night in to exorcise him from Evie’s life. I don’t rush her, though, letting her tell me the latest development in her own time.
She sets down the wine glass and grabs a handful of tissues to blow her nose, then inhales deeply.
‘Okay, so, Liv and I have this group of friends, see? Because we’re only eighteen months apart and we’ve always been close, we know a lot of the same people, and now we’re both living back in London… Well, we’re part of the same friendship group and we see everyone all the time – parties, dinners out, weekends away…’
She’s setting the stage so, again, I don’t rush her.
‘Anyway…’ More tears spring up and she breathes through them, then licks her lips. ‘Our so-called friend, Delia , well, it turns out she’s the one Tyler’s been sleeping with. Besides me, I mean.’
‘Oh, Evie, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.’ Of course, I don’t raise that I know of at least two other women Tyler is sleeping with (the little shit).
Evie sniffs, watching her hands as she fidgets with a wad of soggy tissues.
‘How did you find out?’ I ask.
‘She told me. She did it under the guise of “caring about our friendship” and “being transparent because we’re so close”,’ she says sarcastically. ‘So close, you’re bonking my boyfriend, you utter… utter…’
‘Cow,’ I supply.
She coughs out a laugh and looks up. ‘I was going to say something else but “cow” will do, I suppose.’
‘Well, I can understand why you’re so upset. There’s no excusing that behaviour – from either of them.’ I phrase my next question carefully, as it could trigger another bout of tears. ‘Evie, how have you handled things with Tyler – since he asked to see other people?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Have you broken it off with him entirely or…?’
Her lips disappear between her teeth and she shakes her head. ‘No,’ she replies, her voice small and childlike. ‘I’ve still been seeing him. This is my fault, isn’t it?’
‘ No , not at all. Two people you trusted, cared about, went behind your back. The onus is on them.’
What I don’t tell her is that I have no doubt Tyler considered Evie staying with him as permission to ‘see other people’ – ‘I brought it up, she’s still dating me, she must be okay with it…’ Voilà – arsehole logic.
Evie expels a long, ragged sigh. ‘I’ve been trying to concentrate on my work all afternoon – you know, keep my mind off things, but…’
She shakes her head and reaches for the wine again. She takes a sip, then cradles the glass in her hands.
‘Can I ask, how close are you with the cow?’
This makes her smile. ‘I don’t really know the answer to that. We’ve been friends since school – we came up together. I thought we were close, but now… God, she even spent a summer with us once in Italy – I’d forgotten about that.’
It strikes me sometimes that I’ve married into old money – the kind of people who use ‘summer’ as a verb. Even if Tristan hadn’t inherited his grandfather’s fortune, the Fellows family would be considered wealthy by any standards.
I set the thought aside and focus back on Evie.
‘Would you like to hear what I think?’
She nods vigorously.
‘Do you remember our conversation when you first told me about Tyler’s request?’
‘Yes. And I know what you’re going to say.’
‘What am I going to say?’
‘That he’s not my person.’
‘He is definitely not your person. And I can understand that you hoped to change his mind – even sacrificing what you wanted to suit him – but you deserve so much more. You are kind and generous and loving. You have a beautiful heart and the Tylers of the world don’t deserve someone like you. They only deserve cows.’
She laughs – a lovely sound, especially considering the situation – and runs the back of her hand under her nose.
‘I also promise you this: even though it will hurt for some time, that will fade.’
‘Time heals all wounds,’ she says.
‘It’s a cliché, but a lot of clichés are true. This one is.’
‘I really miss Grandad,’ she says, throwing a non sequitur into the conversation – though, I’m used to those. When I was a psychologist, a lot of my patients would make statements out of the blue. And they were often the truest, most self-aware things my patients would say.
‘I know you do,’ I say, reaching for Evie’s hand, wad of tissues and all. ‘And I know Tristan and Olivia do as well. I wish I got to meet him.’
‘He would have loved you,’ she says, meeting my eye with a smile.
Tears fill my eyes now. I’m so grateful to have Evie and her sister in my life – to be part of the Fellows family, as well as my own. Granted, it includes Helen, my mother-in-law, but in small doses, she’s bearable. Very small doses.
We both wipe away our tears and I sit up straighter, pinning Evie with a look. ‘Right, so what are we going to do about the cow?’
‘Delia?’
‘Mmm-hmm. Is the friendship group aware of what’s going on between her and Tyler?’
‘Umm… I’m not sure.’
‘Well, maybe they need to be,’ I say.
‘How do I do that?’
‘How do we do that?’ I reply, reaching for her hand again and squeezing it. She smiles through her tears. ‘You know, I have certain resources at my disposal…’ I say with a wicked smirk.
‘You sound like that dad in that movie,’ she says with a laugh.
‘ Taken ?’ I ask.
‘That’s the one. He has a set of special skills or something…’
‘Well, I can promise there’ll be no weapons – other than the truth.’
She rolls her eyes.
‘Too cheesy?’
‘A bit.’
‘How about this: who is the biggest gossip in your friendship group?’
‘Bella,’ she replies instantly.
‘Well, then, I suggest you set up a coffee date with Bella – or whatever you young people do these days…’ I tease.
She sniggers. ‘You’re like, what? Ten years older than me?’
‘Thereabouts – closer to thirteen – but I’m an old soul.’ This self-deprecation is for entertainment purposes only – to make Evie laugh, which she does. I don’t actually feel old, especially as I’m only thirty-seven.
‘Anyway,’ I say, getting us back on track, ‘meet up with Bella and tell her your sob story. Lay it on as thick as you can. That will get the word out. And then you will see who your true friends are.’
‘And justice will be served,’ she declares.
‘Says the woman with a degree in social justice,’ I reply, and she grins proudly. ‘And I’d say it’s very likely. So, does that make you feel a bit better about things?’
‘So much better. Thank you, Poppy. You know, Liv and I think of you like a big sister. We just love you.’
‘Oh, I… Thank you for saying that.’ My tears make another appearance right as Tristan does.
‘I thought— Oh no. Now you’re crying, darling,’ he says, looking helpless.
‘My fault,’ says Evie. ‘Just telling Poppy how much Liv and I love her.’
‘Oh, well, of course,’ he says, crossing to the sofa. He leans down and kisses the top of my head. ‘She’s very lovable. You both are.’ He smacks a kiss on Evie’s head then strides off to the kitchen. ‘Right, so am I making us dinner?’
‘Yes, please,’ we chorus from the sofa. Saffron must have heard the word ‘dinner’ because she wanders in from her room and Evie leaps off the sofa to play with her.
As I watch them, sipping my wine, I consider that ‘set of special skills’ I have at my disposal – namely, the agency’s vast resources. I could make Tyler’s life a living misery. He’s just lucky I’m not Liam Neeson.