Page 9 of The Fool

“What is it with you two anyway?” Lily asks before slurping on her drink, looking thoroughly perplexed by whatever it is between Nathaniel and me. At first, all I can do is shrug my shoulders, because, in all honesty, I don’t really know what his damn problem is.

“I have no idea, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much. Maybe it’s just a personality clash or something.”

“I can’t understand it because you’re a sweetheart and he’s…well, he’s Nate,” she blurts out. “Nate is well known for loving everybody, especially women.”

She looks at Callie with a knowing expression, to which Callie nods her head slowly and with a smile on her face. This is no surprise, I’ve more than heard about his reputation with women; I’ve even had to send flowers to some of them.

“Well, this is one woman he certainly doesn’t love!” I reply, smiling at the waiter when he begins serving us our food. “Can I have a chicken salad to go when we’re finished, please?”

“Sure thing,” he says, then winks again before walking away. I look at the girls to see if they saw. Apparently, they did.

“Ooh, he likes you,” Callie grins, “you should totally come next Saturday if that’s how waiters respond to you; we might get free drinks!”

“What’s next Saturday?” I ask.

“A little impromptu night out before Lily hands her freedom over to Cam,” Callie explains, “could get very messy.”

“Oh, yeah, please come. It’s only me, Callie, Ellie, Helena, and James going. You have to come!”

They look at me as though I have no choice in the matter, but to be honest, I’m kind of excited. My youth died on that fateful night, so perhaps this is what I need to kick-start myself into living again.

“Ok, sure,” I reply, smiling with growing confidence, “I’d love to.”

Lily and Callie high-five each other before we finally tuck into our much-more-exciting-than-a-green-salad lunch.

Chapter 4

Bea

Ten minutes earlier than agreed, Callie, Lily, and I walk back into my office, complete with his lordship’s chicken mayo salad. Hopefully, this should keep his wrath at bay. That and the fact there are only a few hours left until the weekend. Then I get to have two whole Nathaniel Carter free days.

“I can’t believe that guy wrote his number on your receipt,” Lily laughs as we enter the office, where Nathaniel is already waiting for me with an even bigger scowl than usual.

“You should totally call him,” Callie says, but I simply giggle and shake my head over the idea. An idea that fills me full of gut-wrenching fear more than heart-fluttering excitement. I wonder if I’ll ever feel comfortable enough to date a man again.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Nathaniel says with about as much politeness as he can muster, none of which is for my benefit. “I need to talk to my assistant…alone!”

Oh, shit, what did I do wrong now?

While I internalize my abject fear, Callie gifts him a smile, then kisses me on the cheek to say goodbye. Lily teases him by giving him a mock salute, but he even ignores her playfulness. She blows him a kiss, then whispers behind her hand, “be nice!”

“Right, I’m off to see my hu…honey! I’ll see you next Saturday,” she says before kissing my cheek and walking out the door with Callie. “Good luck in London next week both of you!”

They’re soon walking past the glass windows that close my office in, all the while waving goodbye. I return the farewell even though I’m silently screaming, “Help!”. This ball of anxiety stuck inside of my chest is in no way helped when I see Nathaniel’s fuming face glaring at me.

“Is there a problem, Mr Carter?” I ask timidly, wishing I had a fraction of Callie’s confidence to shut him down.

“Yes, there’s a problem! Why haven’t you bookedSilantro’stonight, like I asked you to last week?”

The volume at which he’s barking at me causes a few heads to pop up and begin staring at us through the office windows, which is now doubling as a wide-screen television to my humiliation. This is classic Nathaniel Carter behavior when it comes to me; the reason why I probably drink too much during the week. He enjoys growling just loud enough so others can hear him destroying me with just his words, making me look like a bigger waste of space than I already do on a daily basis. It’s not only humiliating and degrading, but it also takes me right back to being a frightened schoolgirl. I absolutely hate it.

“You told me to book it for last night,” I try to argue.

I’m gifted with a long sigh and a shake of his head, the type a parent gives their child when they’ve majorly screwed up.

“No, I asked you to book it for Friday; that is today!”

“I don’t wish to argue with you, Mr Carter, but you told me to do it for Thursday because you would be seeing your parents tonight,” I assert, though quietly so. I swear he did but now he’s caused me to doubt myself.

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