Page 63 of Commitment Issues
Chapter Twenty-Six
Elliot
“Your meeting with Saltman and Co. has been put back to next Wednesday. I’ve rearranged lunch with Julia Merrow from Indigo for tomorrow, at 1.00pm — I’ve reserved a table at Dante’s — and I’ve booked in Jasper’s Healthy Hound appointment with the vet for Monday. Mr Hendricks?”
“What? Sorry, Perry, what was that?”
I blink at my assistant, his big brown, earnest eyes looking at me from behind his glasses. He’s twenty-five, looks fifteen, and runs my personal office and Jasper’s schedule with ruthless efficiency.
“Your schedule. Or those things you need to be aware of.” He blinks, reminding me of an owl.
“Erm, yes of course.” I tug on my cuffs in an attempt to drag myself back into the here and now. Which is certainly where I haven’t been all morning. I arrived at usual at 6.00am, but I’ve whittled my time away, unable to concentrate on anything much, just as I haven’t been able to since getting back from France a couple of weeks ago.
A few minutes later Perry leaves, closing the door to my office, and I slump back in my seat, rubbing at my sore and tired eyes. I haven’t slept well since I’ve been back. I fall into bed exhausted but as soon as my head hits the pillow, my brain switches on, a neon never-ending loop of Freddie and the time we shared, before it got screwed up and awkward.
And it was me who’d screwed up. What happened was down to me, and it should’ve been down to me to have stopped it. I rub at the space between my brows, the headache that’s been an almost constant since coming home, kicking up a gear. The morning after the night before, everything so stiff and awkward between us, and my words stupid and clumsy and making everything so much worse.
“Oh, Freddie,” I whisper. I miss him, that’s the honest truth. My fingers have itched to pick up the phone, to shoot off a text… a coffee, a drink, meet as friends… but I don’t do it because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the gentle rejection, and I know it would be gentle because he’s a thoughtful and considerate boy.
Boy.
Isn’t that the problem, at the heart of it? He’s not a kid, but he’s a young man, a much younger man. He needs to be forming relationships with those of his own age, not with a man old enough to be his father, probably the same age as his father. It was one thing to play act for the wedding, but we’re back in the real world now.
My stomach turns over, and I scramble for one of the indigestion tablets I seem to have been gorging on in the last few days. Freddie’s gone from my life, and it’s best for us both. I rub my brow harder, the pain a red-hot poker, as I open up my laptop to concentrate on the one thing I know I’m good at and won’t fuck up.
Making money.
* * *
The sudden raucous laughter from the other side of my door spears through my concentration. I glance at the clock in the corner of my screen, my eyes opening wider as I see the time. Despite my roiling stomach and throbbing headache, I’ve been immersed in my work for over three hours solid.
A knock on the door, and Perry appears.
“Mr Hendricks, I’ve got—”
“I know exactly who’s come in to disrupt the working day.”
Perry’s smile is unsure as though he can’t decide if I’m annoyed or not. “It’s fine, honestly,” I say with what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Let him in.”
“Really, Elliot, is that a way to treat your oldest and dearest friend? That really isn’t very nice of him, is it Perry?” James smiles at my assistant, like a fox ready to pounce.
“Well, erm, I…” Perry’s face turns an alarming shade of red, as his head snaps between James and me, and back again.
“Thank you, Perry, that will be all.”
“All? Will it really?” James says, all but throwing himself in the chair opposite my desk. “I was rather hoping for some refreshments.” He pouts, managing to look very put out.
“I can make—”
“Thank you, Perry, but my unscheduled guest won’t be staying long. Will he?” I glare at James, who just throws me a kiss in reply.
Perry does the wise thing, and flees.
“Please don’t hit on my assistant.” I might as well ask for the tide not to ebb and flow.
“He’s so cute, and such fun to fluster. Why haven’t you responded to my calls?” James asks, switching tack suddenly.
“Which calls?” I lean back in my chair, affecting a nonchalance I’m not feeling.
