Page 20 of The Invitation

“No sex on a first date.”

“He’s seen me virtually naked, and I haven’t been on a date with him.”

“Outrageous.”

I pout, trying to push back my mortification. But not so much the memory of that body glistening with sweat. Lord have mercy. I slowly sip my wine, falling into a daydream.I’m good with my hands.

“Amelia!”

I jerk, looking at my friend. “What?”

Abbie grins knowingly. “You were thinking about him.”

“I was reliving my embarrassment.”Anyway, enough about me.“How’s life on the dating apps?”

She huffs. “I’ve given up.” Then she falls into her own little daydream, and I know that she’s thinking about Mr. Romeo. That’s not his name; she doesn’t know his name, it’s just what he’s been known as between the three of us since Abbie came back from France two years ago. One night. It was just one night. The best night of her life.

“Abbie,” I snap.

She jumps. Sighs. “I couldn’t work out if Paris was a blessing or a curse.” She takes more wine. “I’m slowly concluding it was a curse. God damn it, he’s a marker for all men, and everyone has fallen short since. I’ve given up.”

“Wish you’d shared your names?”

“Kind of.” Tucking her legs under her butt, she gets comfortable. “Fancy watchingBridget Jones?”

“Christ, Abbie, are wethatbeyond hope?”

“Maybe. I feel like Charley’s taken our quota of luck when it comes to men.” She grabs the remote control and flicks on the TV, starting to scroll the channels. “Oh, wait.” She hops up and disappears, returning a few moments later. “Look what I found at the back of my wardrobe.” She holds up my cream hoodie, and I smile, reaching for it. “You never took it home after I gave it to you for your birthdaythree years ago.”

I open it up and look at the embroidery, smiling.

I Need a Hug That Leads to Sex

Why didn’t I take it home? Home to where I lived with Nick. I don’t want to answer that. I definitely need a hug. But sex?

“Thank you.” I slip it over my dress and get comfortable, Abbie settling beside me. “What time are you leaving in the morning?”

“I have to go to the wholesalers, since your pro saleswoman of a mother sold me out of most blooms. So probably six.”

“I’ll come with you. You can throw me out at the station.”

“No problem. Don’t forget it’s Elijah’s birthday a week next Friday.”

“I won’t.”

We both get cosy and watch Bridget Jones grace us in all her single and huge pants glory. But my uncontrollable wandering mind takes me back to the steam room.

Chapter 6

When Gary walks into my office, I peek over the stack of files on my desk and smile. “Morning.”

He looks across the mess, alarmed, removing his glasses. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing happened,” I say, trying to make the piles neater.

“Amelia.” He wanders over, combing his grey quiff to one side with his fingers, and drops to one of the chairs opposite. Leaning forward, he pushes a pile aside so he can see me. “What’s happened?”

My nose scrunches. I haven’t told Gary about my personal crisis. I don’t want him to think it’s going to affect my job and therefore hamper my chances of making partner. I just have to make sure I convince the senior partners that I’m a better bet than Leighton Steers, the company’s self-professed golden boy who’s also a shameless flirt.

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