I didn’t like to see him upset. And in my heart there was no question – I had to help, as I couldn’t blank the memories of Jazz’s shiny eyes when she first used to mention a great guy she’d met called Dave, a bloke who brought security and confidence to her life.
‘How long have we got?’ I mumbled and scrunched up my forehead. ‘Doesn’t she leave for New York in ten days’ time?’
Dave nodded. ‘The night before she flies out I want to propose again. I don’t want her going with bad feelings between us. That gives me time enough to plan and get the proposal just right.’
‘Yeah, good idea, especially as they are pressing for her to move there permanently.’
‘What?’
My cheeks burned. ‘Oh, um, didn’t Jazz tell you? Apparently Chemi-Vate has set up its largest number of laboratories in any one location. The human resources department is the biggest in the company’s history. With her experience, Jazz is lined up to become the New York HR manager.’
Dave’s head dropped into his hands again. ‘Nothing stopping her now then…’
My chest squeezed and I held out my hand to a passing Kate. Almost free-wheeling straight into the next table, she unsteadily passed me her waitress’ notebook. ‘Never took you for a quitter, Dave.’
He looked up and I took out a pen from my apron.
‘Let’s do it, angel-face,’ I said with an innocent smile.
‘You’ll really help me?’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I thought… I mean – this is a great opportunity for you to get rid of me, once and for all.’
‘And why would I want to do that? Jazz’s happiness is what matters, no?’ I shrugged. ‘Sure. You’ve been a right bozo but – God knows why – Jazz loves you with every soppy cell of her being.’
A quizzical look crossed his face. The lines on his forehead dissipated. My brow relaxed too and my breathing slowed as his mouth almost upturned.
‘Now, take off that damn awful coat, Dave McCrory…’ Pen poised, I straightened up. ‘… and let’s see if we can get you hitched – or at least engaged – in ten days.’
‘Angel-face! Get in here this minute!’
With a sigh I took off the turban of towel around my hair and, cheeks still hot from the shower, padded towards Mikey’s bedroom in my comfiest pyjamas. His private space in the flat was lush, with shiny purple floral wallpaper and a matching velvet bedspread. It provided quite a contrast to the black and white colour theme of the lounge and open-plan kitchen. I yawned. It was only half-past eight but I’d had a challenging Monday at the office, having to sack someone and investigate a claim of sexual harassment. Then last night, my Valentine’s Day date, well… less said about that the better. A lump rose in my throat.
‘Hurry up, slowcoach!’
With a roll of my eyes, I passed through the doorway and… oh, what a welcome sight: Mikey, in his night-time shorts and T-shirt, sitting on the far side of his huge king-sized bed which stood opposite a widescreen telly. Next to him was a bottle of wine, large bowl of popcorn and an array of DVDs. I pursed my lips to trap a sob I could feel rising as he folded down the duvet and patted the mattress. I let my towel fall onto the floor.
‘Hop in, Jazz. We haven’t had a sleepover for a while.’
I bit my lip. Unexpected acts of kindness shot straight into the heart, didn’t they? My chin trembled.
‘Oh, darling.’ Mikey turned to face me and stretched out his arms. I hurtled towards him, squidging across the sheets to fall into the warmth of his embrace. Enveloped in those biceps, my facial muscles relaxed and I leant my head on his chest. We hugged for the longest moment, me squeezing my eyes tight, so as not to cry.
‘You aren’t going to dribble, are you?’ he said, softly.
With a sniff, I slipped my left arm across his abdomen and poked him in the ribs, as he lay down.
‘Oi!’
I lifted my head and we exchanged smiles.
‘So. Are you finally going to tell me what happened last night?’ he said, as I rested my head again. ‘You haven’t said a word all evening.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I mumbled and blinked rapidly.
‘Fair enough.’ He squeezed me tight. ‘But I’m here if you need me. Right, DVD time – you like romance, I’m an action fan, so how about we compromise with a James Bond movie that combines both elements?’
I nodded, sat up, limbs feeling heavy as I crossed my legs. I grabbed the bowl, scooped up a handful of popcorn and offered it to Mikey, who slipped two pieces into his mouth.
‘Mmm. You’ve tossed it in liquid toffee,’ I said and reached for one of the napkins by the bowl.
‘With just a touch of salt added,’ he said and nipped out of bed to pick up my towel and hang it over his radiator. He came back and picked up two glasses from his bedside table. ‘Pour the Pinot.’
‘Bossy boots.’ Although that was the kind of order I would never refuse.
A glugging noise, from the bottle, filled the room as he clambered back into bed. Five minutes later, we sat, both leaning against the headboard, hips rubbing next to each other as we snuggled up, crunching on the scrumptious snack.
‘So, which James Bond?’ I said, in between mouthfuls. Must focus. Dave being a moron wasn’t going to leave me in bits. My throat ached. One thing Mum’s death had taught me was never to let a man dictate how happy I was. ‘Let me guess…’ I cleared my throat. ‘Daniel Craig, seeing as you’re such a fan of six-packs and fake tan.’
‘Huh? Haven’t you ever taken a close look at my boyfriends?’
I thought hard. ‘Hmm. Not many of them have been gym bunnies. In fact, that Steve hadn’t an ounce of muscle.’
‘Believe it or not, sometimes personality counts as well.’
‘Unless you’ve lowered your standards, due to recently letting yourself go. I mean, just how much pie have you been scoffing at the diner lately?’ With a grin I slipped my hand under his T-shirt and my fingers slid over taut, waxed contours.
‘I know. Irresistible aren’t I? As ripped as ever.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ I muttered, hand back in the popcorn bowl. ‘Okay… I reckon you prefer Timothy Dalton – out of all the Bonds, he’s a little rougher around the edges, yet the most sensitive.’
‘Ten out of ten, darling – but tonight’s all about you, so come on, choose the film.’ Mikey cocked his head. ‘I think you’ll either go for Roger Moore who makes you laugh or… well yes, Daniel Craig – the perfect gent.’
Unable to talk for a moment, I nodded – it must have been the time of the month. You see,
