Page 5 of Try Hard
“Right. The point is my deeply underwhelming date experience.”
I grinned, watching as her face flashed in and out of frame again, her expression disappointed. “Row, do you ever think that maybe you just don’t like her, so all of these little things that annoy you are only doing so because you’re not actually feeling the relationship?”
She leaned on the counter, staring through the phone at me. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed into a sharp line. “For someone so famously nice, you aren’t half cutting sometimes.”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
“Telling me none of this is my fault and that it’s absolutely ridiculous for a date to serve bangers and mash—”
“Don’t forget the beans.”
“Screw the beans.”
I laughed again. “I think if you enjoyed the screwing more, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Explain.” She stayed in sight as she downed a ginseng shot.
“Well, imagine this was someone you had a soul-deep connection with and the ground moved every time you had sex. Would you care that they gave you bangers and mash?”
“Huh.” She disappeared from view again. “I guess not.”
It was impressive she’d gotten there so easily. Rohanna was stubborn. A lot of the time, it was amazing, but, sometimes, she refused to give up on her beliefs no matter how much proof you supplied of the alternatives.
She reappeared. “Okay. Fine. Point made. It’s not happening with Victoria. I’ll break up with her.”
I winced. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s totally fine. Better to do it now before anyone gets more hurt.”
And that was Rohanna too—endlessly pragmatic. It worked well for our business, but, in life, it was the reason she calledme in these situations. She needed someone… softer around the edges but still willing to call her out on her shit when necessary.
I watched her as she looked over the top of the phone and into a portable mirror to apply her lipstick—a deep, rich red. We had very different days planned.
She grinned at me once she was done. “Maybe I’ll meet someone new today.”
“Wow. Moving on fast.”
“Victoria has been five dates. It isn’t exactly a grand love story that we need to heal from.”
“I know. I’m just teasing.” And I was. Just as we both knew she wasn’t actually going to find someone new today.
“Indeed. We both know I’m about to spend the next three hours fending off questions about whetheryou’resingle and interested.”
“I’m not.”
“Honey, please. We all know you’re not.Theyknow you’re not, but we also know what journalists are like.”
I hummed. “Especially the ones who meet with you on a Saturday morning.”
“Hey, I have to eat, so if they want to buy my breakfast, that’s perfectly fine with me. Even if the downside will be them sending one more journalist than necessary, just because theyvolunteered, and me having to fend off their disappointment that you aren’t attending.”
“Ah, sorry. Can’t help being ridiculously popular.”
She laughed. “You don’t need to. Whatever gets us in the door.”
I didn’t think she’d have a problem without me, but I appreciated her humour over the situation. Long before I’d retired from rugby and gotten into the interior design sector, Rohanna had been a big name in her own right. Not quite doing the same thing she did now, but she’d been a buyer from somevery influential people. She had enough of her own influence to get the interviews without me.
However, she was right that people tended to ask about me and my life when she met with them, especially when it was lifestyle or tabloids. I didn’t think they asked if I would date them as much as she made out—they were working, after all—but still.
