Page 7 of Asking For a Friend

With another smile, he walks away, weaving easily through the tables and other customers.

As soon as Hesketh leaves the coffee shop, Simon rushes over under the pretence of clearing away the packaging and empty cups. Any chance of working has disappeared. He plonks his bum down and, with his elbows on the table, rests his chin on his folded hands. “He’s so dreamy. He has dimples to die for. When are you seeing him again? Please don’t be stubborn about him. You need to get back on the horse. Or bicycle.” He flaps one hand around. “You know what I mean. Ride the cowboy or whatever it is. Your hole must have closed over by now.”

I stare at him for a full minute, dumbfounded. “Do you hear yourself? What on earth made you say that?”

“Because, my grumpy friend, if you don’t do something with that walking wet dream, then I will beat you with your laptop.”

“If you really must know, we’re seeing each other again on Saturday. But, Simon, sweetheart, it doesn’t mean anything, not yet. I’m not going to fall for a pretty face, even if it does have the sexiest dimples ever. Now leave me alone to work. You can go and tell the others.”

Simon makes a weird face and squeals so high that every dog in a five-mile radius has probably started to bark. “You’ll make beautiful babies together.” He frowns. “Not that you can make babies, but if you could, they’d be the best babies ever. Well, as long as they look like him.”

He clears the table and wanders off again. If only I could scrub my brains clean as easily.

I get back into the story and knock out a couple more chapters. My phone vibrating on the table pulls me out of my concentration. It’s always face down so I don’t get distracted by notifications. As I turn it over, a message from Hesketh lights up the screen.

Thanks for a great lunch. See you tomorrow.

A smile sneaks across my lips. He’s beginning to be too good to be real. My smile fades. Isn’t that how they all started? Showering me with attention and praise, all of it to get me into bed. A niggle in my gut tells me Hesketh isn’t like that. He hasn’t pestered me once. The gifts were cute, but it’s not like he hand-delivered them to me, or stalked me when I left, or found out where I live. In fact, I went after him on Saturday night. No harm in replying, is there?

I should be thanking you. You bought it. My treat next time.

It's a good time to quit. I’ve done enough, plus it will be nice to get home at a decent time. It takes me another ten minutes to tidy up my notes and mess and throw my rubbish away. I give the late staff a wave and head out into the cold late autumn evening.

And so what if I can’t stop smiling on my way home? No one sees it, and no one can force me to admit Hesketh made my day better.

Damn those dimples.

As I leave the office at twelve thirty for the third time this week, Ellis gives me another questioning look. I’m surprised he hasn’t given me the Spanish Inquisition yet after all the times I haven’t explained where I’m going. The same can’t be said for his friends at the coffee shop. They have no shame in asking the most inappropriate questions or watching every minute I’m chatting with their friend. Maybe they’re being protective of him. For all of Lando’s joking around, he doesn’t seem to notice he often speaks his thoughts out loud. He’s cautious, hesitant to relax with me.

Hopefully, he’ll be more at ease this time. We’re going to the park for lunch. My phone buzzes as I exit the office. We were lucky to have found a converted three-storey Victorian house rather than a cold, concrete office building. I smile when a photo of Lando’s closed laptop and ‘a where are you?’ tag pops up.

I’m on my way.

I pick up my pace. He’s already outside, standing in front of the coffee shop, looking up the road. The moment he sees me, his face lights up, and I match his grin.

“Hi.” I want to kiss him, but I’m sure we’re not there yet. But when he lifts his face, I can’t help myself and drop a dry peck on his cheek. He flushes a pretty pink.

“Hi.” He holds up a bag. “I got lunch, just sandwiches and a salad to share. Unless you’re really hungry. I can go back and get extra.” He gestures over his shoulder and nearly knocks himself out with the bag.

I grab his arm to steady him and pluck the bag out of his hand at the same time. “That’s good for me. Shall we go before you do yourself any more harm?”

“Good idea, and whatever you do, don’t look into the coffee shop. I can feel all their eyes on us. They’re ridiculous.” Lando shakes his head and flutters his fingers towards me. My breath hitches. Is he…? But he stops himself before he touches my hand.

I could make the first move and take his hand, but not yet. Maybe on the way back when he’s relaxed with me. I know he’s got some kind of trust issues, but then again, so have I. No one can say they don’t have any baggage when it comes to their exes because they wouldn’t be exes if the relationship had been perfect. I’ve been used too many times by men who thought I was a walking cash machine.

Lando is quiet on the walk to the park. He seems more at ease with me, just not talking much. It doesn’t bother me. After the few times we’ve had lunch together, I know he runs an inner monologue. Talking himself in and out of conversations.

“Where do you want to sit? Over there is a table in the shade. Is that a good place?” I point out the spot.

He smiles. “Yeah, looks good. I burn to a crisp thanks to my ginger hair and pale skin. I blame my father. He has the same colouring. But then again, I can blame him for plenty of other more significant things.”

I don’t ask anything. If we get onto the topic of his family, he always gets uncomfortable.

“How’s your morning been?” Lando asks as he unpacks the bag I placed on the table. He takes out three subs and a bowl of Greek salad. He really does eat a lot of that.

I sigh. The idea of organising events had seemed such a good idea ten years ago. We’ve made a massive success of our business and are in demand all year round, but it’s losing its shine. Spring and summer are full of weddings, and even though autumn is relatively less busy, we have to start the Christmas parties. We now have a team of planners, leaving us less hands-on than we used to be. “Busy. We’re at the height of wedding season. If I ever get married, I’m going to keep it simple. I don’t need a wedding that costs one hundred grand before the guests have even arrived.”

“A hundred thousand? Jeez, how can that even be possible? That’s crazy. What are they doing? Hiring Windsor Castle?” Lando looks horrified, and I chuckle.

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