Never Say Forever

“It must be love. Or at least, amazing sex.”

“I’m sorry?” I feel the smile almost freeze to my face.

“I’ve been back to Ardeo since that night, did you know?”

“How would I know?” I answer carefully. Why is she bringing this up? This is a topic we’ve purposely danced around with since then but never discussed. I thought it was by some kind of silent agreement that, after that night, she’d realised we hadn’t spoken about it, not because of a lack of opportunity but because I wasn’t comfortable discussing it. Because I didn’t want to be reminded that she’s deceived me, because I didn’t want to hear the details of her night, but most of all because I didn’t want to share my own night.

“It wasn’t here in the city. As well as exclusive, the events tend to be a little elusive. Announced last minute and in all kinds of places all over the world.” That isn’t something Carson mentioned to me, but why would he? Neither of us would have drawn any comfort from that discussion.

“I’m pleased you had a good time.” Opening my laptop, I press the power button, hoping to hide behind the pretext of work.

“Well, it was in Aruba last weekend. Who doesn’t like a little getaway?” Beth continues, all chatty Cathy as she hooks her coat over the back of her chair before pulling off her woollen beret. Raspberry-coloured. “I didn’t like the idea of a five-hour flight for just the weekend, but I’m so glad I went.” Her gaze seems to turn inward, her tiny smile almost suggestive as she forgets to put away her hat. “What about you?” she suddenly asks.

“What about me? I’m fine. Well.”

“Did you find somewhere else to live?”

“Ah. No. At least, not yet.” Though I will have to. Or, at least, I suppose I should. You can’t really start a relationship off with this kind of dependence. But I’m not going to think about it right now because then I just start thinking about other stuff, like how Rose will react (Amazingly, according to Carson, complete with congratulations and possible confetti cannons) and what we’ll do when it’s time for me to go back to France, which is something we haven’t discussed. “I’m still looking,” I add when it becomes clear she’s staring at me.

“Listen, Fee.” She slides a glance over her shoulder before moving across the office to carefully lower herself into the seat on the opposite side of my small desk. “I never asked you what happened that night. I just assumed you got tired of the guy who was hitting on you and left.”

“I did get tired of him. Sick and tired. Did you hear his lines? Vomit inducing.” Yes, I’m babbling. I’m also pretty certain she’s as aware of my sidestepping as well as I am.

“It’s just, well, on Friday, you went to the bagel joint down the street for lunch. You didn’t see me, but I was there with my aunt. We were seated at a table in the back,” she adds as though to prevent any offence. I might feel the need to express given she didn’t make her presence known. As if.

“I’ve become a bit obsessed with their lox bagel.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this except that I’d like to direct the conversation somewhere else as my stomach begins to ache forebodingly.

“Sure.” Beth smiles tightly. “My aunt asked about you. She said you seemed familiar.” I return her smile with a blank look. “And then we kind of worked out between us that she’d seen you at Ardeo.”

“Your aunt was there?”

“It’s less weird than it sounds. Tessie is my mother’s younger sister, but she’s more like a contemporary. She’s how I got my membership. You have to be nominated and seconded.”

“Like a country club? No way,” I find myself squeaking.

“Kind of, I suppose.” She barks out a laugh. “I guess I never realised the similarities. Anyway, Tessie said that night, the night you were there, she saw you go off with someone. I thought you left, but she said otherwise.” At this, Beth crosses one knee over the other, straightening her skirt quite primly.

“I did. I’m sorry I didn’t say. Believe it or not, I saw someone I knew, and I . . . I left with him.”

“Yeah, she saw who you left with. I’ve got to hand it to you, Fee. Out of all the women who were there that night, I thought you’d be the last to snag Carson Hayes.”

I physically flinch. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Because I don’t want to. Because it has nothing to do with anyone but him and me. I’m well aware I’m not supermodel material—

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Why not you? I mean, you’re gorgeous. And so is he,” she adds hastily.