Page 14 of Paper Roses

I take a deep breath as Jed studies me intently—like I’m a stranger who’s suddenly joined him at his table.

Finally, he stirs. “I’m just going out for a cigarette.”

I huff slightly but then nod. I hate him smoking, but it’s not my business and he doesn’t do it very often. It’s something he does when he’s pondering a problem or thinking through a plan. I’d never admit it, but he’s rather sexy when he presses his generous lips around a cigarette, his eyes narrowing as he exhales a stream of smoke.

“I’ll be here,” I tell him. He leaves quickly, digging through his pockets for the pack and his lighter as he goes.

“So, you’re Artie?”

I cast a swift glance over my shoulder and find Moira approaching the table. “Yes, that’s me,” I say, smiling. “Can I help you?”

She hesitates by Jed’s chair, glancing towards where he’s standing outside the café window, smoke weaving around him like a dragon in disguise. “No,” Moira says. “I just wanted to say hello properly. Jed talks about you a lot and…”

I wait a beat. “And?”

“I haven’t seen him laugh like that in ten years,” she says in a rush. She gives me a smile before darting off.

I stare after her, warmth kindling in my stomach. Jed smiles often but doesn’t laugh much. I can’t remember many full-bodied laughs like the one he gave tonight.

The bell on the door tinkles, and I watch him stride towards me with his usual purpose and speed. His jaw is set, his eyes narrowed, and my heart begins a fast thud.

“Are you alright?” I ask, straightening in my chair as he retakes his seat. “Is there an emergency?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine.”

He stares at me, and I shift awkwardly.

“Are you alright?” I ask again. I take a sip of my drink to settle my nerves.

A muscle in his jaw tics, and I watch him warily.

“Will you marry me?” he blurts.

I spit my drink all over him.

three

. . .

artie

After watching Jed’s car disappear down the street, I let myself into my flat and shut the door firmly behind me. I lean against it for a second before slowly sliding to sit on the floor. I stare ahead, looking at the peeling wallpaper. The pattern is made up of cats wearing different hats. The previous occupant was obviously a fan of felines because they’re on the wallpaper in all the rooms.

It’s dark, so Daisy isn’t here, and it’s cold because we’re trying to cut costs. Our last electricity bill gave the impression that we’d been heating the flat for a century rather than just a month. The flat is small and poky, and the smells from the pizza place downstairs can sometimes be rather overpowering, but it’s home.

I pick at the worn carpet and carefully replay Jed’s proposal in my head. After I’d spat my drink over him, he calmly wiped it off and said quietly that I’d obviously need time to think about his suggestion.

Now that I’m away from him, I can analyse his idea. Perhaps understand why it had even occurred to him. And try to tell my foolish, dreaming heart that his motivation had nothing to do with that—my foolish, dreaming heart—and everything to do with Jed’s usual, practical, steady willingness to help one of his mishap-prone employees get out of a jam.

I still remember when Rafferty and Stan got locked out of their flat. Jed had arrived with a ladder and proceeded to break in to get their keys. It was the neatest, most efficient burglary I’d ever seen. Maybe it was a little too good because when the police turned up in response to a neighbour’s alarmed phone call, they’d tried to arrest him. It was only when one of them recognised Jed that they cancelled the plans to take him down to the station. This had caused a great deal of amusement in the office and even Jed had laughed when Raff and Joe had turned up to the staff meeting handcuffed to each other. He'd been even more amused when they lost the key.

My phone rings, and Daisy’s face flashes up on the screen. She’s laughing in the picture, which she does a lot in life.

“Hey,” I say. “Are you having a good night?”

“Oh, the best night, babe.” There’s a lot of noise in the background, so I guess she’s at a club. “I have somethingamazingto tell you.”

“What?” I ask cautiously. Daisy’s ideas can sometimes be rather catastrophic because she doesn’t think things through.

---