“Fine. It’s done. I’ll take you to see him at the weekend.”
“Really?” I jumped up from the sofa. “You’ll take me to see Justin?”
“Yes. If I have to.”
“I can take the train or a cab. I don’t mind.” I was giddy. A shopping trip was definitely on the cards tomorrow. I wanted to look delicious for him when I saw him.
“No. I’ll drive. I’d like to see what my money is paying for.”
A knot of dread filled my gut.
“You’re coming in too?” That’d go down like a lead balloon with Justin, if I walked in with Jackson in tow.
“Don’t panic, he won’t even know I’m there. I’d just like to see the facilities. Maybe I’ll get some ideas for our little venture.”
I couldn’t deny the relief I felt. The last thing I needed was to watch those two go at it. Justin would walk for sure if he thought Jackson was involved in his recovery in any way. To be honest, it was better for both of us if he stayed for the full three months. He’d get the treatment he needed, and me? I’d get the experience of working with a charity, setting it up if you like, and creating something that was totally worthwhile. Maybe my time here wasn’t going to be as pointless and painful as I initially thought.
I woke up with renewed vitality and bounced out of bed and into my bathroom to freshen up. Ten minutes later, I flounced out of my room with my head full of ideas and inspiration for the day. Maybe I’d catch up with my girls, get them to help me choose a kick ass outfit for my trip to see Justin. I felt guilty that I’d been so engrossed in the whole Justin and Jackson drama, that I hadn’t even messaged them to let them know I was back in the city. I sent out a group text to tell them I was back, and fished for a date that they’d all be free for a catch up.
As I strolled into the lounge area, typing away on my phone, I saw Jackson dressed in his customary suit and just about to take a sip of his coffee. He froze when he saw me, and his cup stayed glued to his lips as he gawped at me like I was some alien-like creature that’d magically appeared in his apartment.
“What?” I lifted my arms up in question.
“You can’t walk around the apartment like that.”
He scanned his eyes down and then back up to mine. What was his problem? I looked down at the chocolate brown baby doll nightie I was wearing. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. It was cute and I felt all girly wearing it. I liked that the cups were lacy like a bra and the skirt all silky and soft. Plus, the colour looked good against my skin and my blonde hair. Did I really look that bad? It came to my knees; it wasn’t like it was skimming my ass.
“I don’t see what the problem is?”
He put his cup down and turned to look at his kitchen door.
“It’s very… revealing, and Sylvie is working today.”
As if on cue, Sylvie pushed her way through from the kitchen and beamed with affection when she saw me.
“Sylvie, does my nightie offend you?” I put my hands on my hips as I questioned her.
Sylvie shook her head in earnest.
“Of course not, love. Why would it? I wish I had one like that, but I’d probably give Len a coronary if I rolled into bed tonight dressed in that. Anyway, I’ve seen what some of the girls wear on a summer’s day. That’s tame, dear.” She wrinkled her nose as she spoke, instantly putting me at ease.
“Thank you.” I reverted my gaze to Jackson now, who was looking somewhat affronted that he wasn’t being backed up in his ridiculous opinion.
“If you don’t like it, don’t look,” I challenged him.
The doorbell sounded and he strode off, cursing me as he went to answer it.
“I think he likes it a little too much if you ask me,” Sylvie whispered and I blushed. Maybe I would go back and put my flannelette pyjamas on instead. As I went to turn back and head to the bedroom, I heard a whistle.
“Nice outfit, blondie.”
Cillian didn’t appear to be of the same opinion as Jackson when it came to my night-time attire.
“Thanks.” I did a cute little curtsey and started to back up out of the room to go and get myself covered up.
“Will you put some bloody clothes on?” Jackson snapped, and so did I. How dare he tell me what to do! I felt like wearing the damn nightie out shopping now just to piss him off more.
“Don’t listen to him, he’s just a prude,” Cillian joked, eyeing Jackson up and down.