Denied (One Night 2)

Both of our heads snap to the side when we hear Nan. ‘What’s going on up there?’

‘Nothing!’ I call, pulling Gregory into my room and slamming the door. ‘You prised me from him and dumped me on the pavement before tackling him to the floor!’ I bend and point at my head. ‘I spent hours in A and E being glued together while you wrestled in the middle of the street!’

‘You just disappeared!’ he shouts, pointing his finger in my face. ‘And you have no f**king phone!’ He throws his hands up in the air in frustration.

I pull up a moment, thinking about something that I really never wanted to think about again. ‘It’s affecting us,’ I say quietly.

His neck retracts on his shoulders. ‘Yes, he is.’

‘I don’t mean Miller.’

‘Then what—’ His mouth snaps shut, his eyes wide. ‘Oh no! Don’t blame this on that little thing we had.’ He waves towards the bed, laughing sarcastically. ‘This shit between us is down to that f**king prick you’ve fallen in love with!’

‘He’s not a prick!’ I shout, searching deep for the strength to calm myself down.

‘I swear to God, Livy, if you see him again, then we’re done!’

‘Don’t talk stupid!’ I’m horrified he would say such a thing. I’ve helped him through endless shitty break-ups, and I’ve never made such a threat.

‘I’m not,’ he says more calmly. ‘I mean it, Olivia. You know as well as me that that cocksucker is trouble. And I know you’re not telling me everything.’

‘I am!’ I defend myself far too hastily.

‘Don’t insult me!’

‘At least he cared enough to search for me!’

Gregory recoils in disgust. ‘He’s ruining you.’ Biting his lip, he watches me closely for a few long seconds. I don’t like the look on his face, and I know I’m not going to like his next words. He’s thinking too hard about them. ‘I can’t see you if he’s in your life.’

I gasp as he turns and leaves, making a point of slamming the door behind him, leaving me struck dumb in the middle of my bedroom. I’m speechless, hurt and mad. He can’t slap conditions on our friendship when it suits him. I never have.

I throw myself into bed on an annoyed curse and hide under the sheets. Once again, my mind is grateful for the let-up in painful thinking, and I’m soon dreaming of hard warmth pushed up against my back and soft humming in my ear. I’m only dreaming, but the sharp edges under the bespoke suit and the familiar feeling of smooth hands stroking my bare tummy are comforting, even if they aren’t real. It’s far more welcome than the usual nightmare.

I don’t welcome Monday with any more enthusiasm than I have every other morning since I fled that hotel. On top of my muddled thoughts about a certain man, I now have Gregory to worry about. The calamity that is my life at the moment is certainly making up for all the boring that’s come before.

Half of me is wondering why I suggested dinner with Miller today when I was desperate to be swallowed up by him yesterday, and half of me is wondering why I suggested any day at all. He hasn’t slept with anyone? I need to make a list of questions. If I’m stupid enough to meet him.

I pull my bedcovers back and immediately frown down at my semi-naked body. I have my knickers on, but everything else is gone. Glancing up, I see all of my clothes folded neatly and placed in a pile on my chair. I’m not totally losing my mind. I fell into bed in my clothes after Gregory stormed out; I know I did. I consider the possibility of Nan stripping me down in my sleep, but that pile of precisely folded and placed clothes tells me otherwise.

Still frowning, I untangle my body from the bedcovers and make my way across the room, opening the door quietly and listening out for Nan. There are the sounds of happy singing and clanking dishes, but no talking. Casting my eyes back to the offending pile of clothes, I think hard, trying to remember if it’s my doing, but I’m blank. Nothing is coming to me. Maybe I’m walking in my sleep, or maybe I’m tidying in my sleep.

A quick look at my clock tells me I haven’t got time to ponder this mystery any more, so I make quick work of showering and dressing for work, throwing on some jeans and my white Converse, like I want my feet to dictate my mood: lifeless . . . blank.

There are cornflakes in my bowl before I even sit at the table, and Nan is looking at me with an edge of delight mixed with curiosity. We’re alone for the first time since yesterday morning, which means she finally has the opportunity to pick at me for answers. Quickly searching my brain for the best words before she hits me with her own, I very quickly come up with . . . something.

‘How was the dance?’ I ask.

‘We rocked it.’ She brushes me off, even though I’m certain she has many tales to tell from her night as Ginger Rogers. ‘And it was two nights ago.’

I wince. ‘Sorry.’

‘No matter,’ she insists, and I know why. ‘Miller looked mighty sad when he left yesterday.’ She potters around with her tea towel while watching for my reaction. ‘And I didn’t like the sound of you and Gregory arguing.’

I sigh, letting my backside fall to the chair, and pour some milk over my cornflakes as Nan loads my tea with too much sugar. ‘It’s complicated, Nan.’

‘Oh . . .’ Her rounded rump hits the chair next to me, her old navy eyes way too curious. ‘I can deal with complicated. In fact, I bet I have the answer.’

I smile fondly and rest my hand over hers. ‘This is for me to fix.’