Sweatpants at Tiffanie's

by Pernille Hughes

  She snapped back, rather less spellbound. Then she saw his smirk spread wide across his face and she slapped his arm. Her hand bounced off the solid muscle.

  ‘Don’t joke about it.’ Actually, she was glad he was joking; she was anticipating more. Much much more. ‘Why am I the only one who’s nervous?’

  ‘Well,’ he said, trailing the tip of his nose lightly down her side, ‘I have the benefit of knowing I’ve improved over the last decade. I’ve been practising and getting better at it. You, on the other hand are having to take my word for it, so I understand your apprehension. After all, you’ve got all dressed down for this, and the expectation could be quite high.’ His tongue drew a small delicate circle around her belly button, causing new conflict with her brain relaxing as her body tensed. It felt delicious.

  ‘Then surely you should be nervous too,’ she said, releasing herself to it. His calm demeanour, his confidence, reassured her.

  ‘Angel,’ he breathed into her skin, ‘I’ve made a career of hiding my nerves and surprising people. Right now, I’m thinking it was all training for this.’

  Tiff had lost her appetite for surprises long ago, but for the next long while Mike showed her exactly what she’d been missing.

  Was it wrong, wanting to call Shelby to give her a play by play recount? Was it? Not that Tiff’s gelatinous limbs were in any state to shift, and Mike’s arm across her chest held her firmly in place. Finally she knew what all the fuss was about – anything over twice would have been viewed as unnecessarily extravagant in Gavin’s book. And those recent classes she’d taken were useful – some of what they’d done took some flexing.

  Mike breathed steadily in her hair as she bathed in the afterglow, considering how much more she liked this room now. It really was cosier than she’d given it credit for. Not the bed of course. That was still god-awful, but she’d have better memories of it now. She’d made the right decision. Some ghosts had been exorcised that afternoon, some demons extinguished.

  Her mobile started ringing. It was about blooming time Colin got back to her, but honestly, his timing was flipping awful. Reaching across Mike’s utter buffness, she cack-handedly tried to grab the phone just as Mike surprised her with an intimate twiddle. She fumbled it before seeing who it was, simultaneously accepting the call and dropping it between the archive box and the bed.

  ‘Hello?’ It had hit speaker on the way down. It was a male voice and lots of background noise. It sounded like he was driving.

  ‘Tiff? Sweetheart. It’s Gavin.’ Oh crap. Not now. NOT. NOW. She launched herself head down into the gap, scrabbling in the gloom. The fairy lights were not helping now. Mike’s hands steadying her confirmed he was wide awake.

  ‘I’m hearing good things about the gym,’ Gavin went on.

  ‘Hold up a minute, Gav,’ she spluttered, desperate to get her hands on the phone, to get him off speaker and off the line. She didn’t have much dating experience, but even she knew this – the lying on top of one lover talking to an ex – was bad form.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘The gym. Shush a sec, Gav, I can’t reach the phone.’ Finally, she could see it. She had to shimmy up Mike to reach, boobing him in the face. Emergencies often came with collateral damage.

  ‘Look, I’m returning from a viewing. I’m coming by, sweetheart. I’m taking you to dinner.’

  ‘NO!’ she screeched. ‘I’m busy.’ Fucking phone. The tips of her fingers reached the case, and she tried to drag it closer with her nails.

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up. God, it’s a bad signal around here.’ She snagged the phone and tried to lever herself with her abs up to some kind of upright, smacking her head into the archive box with an Argh. ‘Line’s bad, Tiff, but I’ll assume you can hear me. I’ll see you in about twenty, sweetheart.’

  ‘Nooo,’ she wailed into the phone, finally right way up, but the line had cut out. She desperately tried to return the call, but there was no connection.

  And again.

  Nothing.

  Slowly placing the phone back on the box, bloody bloody thing, Tiff took a deep breath and slid her eyes up Mike’s body to meet his. He still had his hands firmly on her hips, but they felt like iron.

  ‘This looks really bad,’ she started.

  ‘Not great,’ he agreed. His light smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I thought the two of you were over.’

  ‘We are! I haven’t heard from him in a month. I’ve no idea why he’s coming.’

  ‘You’re having dinner, sweetheart.’

  She pulled herself off him, shocked. ‘That’s not fair, Mike. You heard me say no. I didn’t get a chance to say I wasn’t available.’

  Mike pulled himself up to sitting, crossing his arms annoyed.

  ‘I didn’t hear you asking Gav what he was doing calling you,’ he said, ‘or is it just me you don’t have a problem shouting at?’ Tiff couldn’t think how to answer that. He was right; while she was stymied when it came to conflict with Gavin, she’d always felt at ease dishing her moods at Mike. She doubted it would sound like a compliment right now though.

  ‘Look, there’s nothing going on with him,’ she tried to placate him, ‘I’ll go down when he gets here and tell him I’m busy and I’ll talk to him another time.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’ Mike asked gruffly.

  ‘What? I can’t just leave him out there knocking.’ Some things were simply a matter of manners.

  ‘No, why do you need to talk to him another time, if it’s over?’

  ‘Mike, I’ve known him for ten years.’

  Mike remained unmoved. ‘So?’

  Tiff pulled the duvet around herself, the chill in the room now giving her goosebumps. She didn’t understand why he was being mardy about this. She’d said there was nothing going on.

  ‘So, we can still talk, if we want to.’

  ‘And do you want to?’ He was being unfair. She was beginning to get annoyed.

  ‘I’ll talk to whoever I like, thank you, Mike.’ He stared at her, then swung his legs out of the bed and started searching for his stuff.

  ‘This is ten years ago all over again,’ he said. That sent her over the top.

  ‘Don’t you dare! There was nothing going on then, as you well know and there is nothing going on now. I’m not like that, I never was. But I am a grown up Mike, and I’ll speak to and see whoever I choose, even if it’s Gavin.’

  ‘What for? He dumped you,’ he yelled, genuinely indignant on her behalf.

  ‘Who said he dumped me?’ She was naked in a storeroom. Why was she suddenly embarrassed about being the dumpee?

  ‘Look around you, Tiff. If it had been mutual d’you think you’d be living in a cupboard?’ Bugger.

  ‘Point taken,’ she conceded, but drew herself up, ‘But he saved me once too, when my life turned to crap. When you’re sitting in the first class lounge Monday night, you Google my dad’s name with the word “embezzlement” and see what pops up. Read about his arrest and the horror Mum and I went through; the shame, the abuse, the dropping out of school, and how my high finance dreams became basic bookkeeping. All of which you missed as Blackie and Nanna shielded you from it, because you were the one they could help.

  ‘He gave me support, he made me feel better, he gave me a new home. He gave me security and an escape. So while he may be considered a prat by many, he was salvation to me. And dumped or not, I will decide whether I talk to him, especially when you aren’t going to be here anyway.’

  Mike stood gaping at her. That was exactly the look she’d expected if he found out what had happened, what he’d missed. So much for not telling him. Tiff knew him well enough to know how upset he’d be. She dropped her shoulders.

  ‘Mikey, please. This,’ she wiggled a finger between them, ‘this has been amazing. Mind-blowing. I’ll dream of this.’ His appalled expression softened a little, but only to concern. He still didn’t know what to say. ‘But you’re leaving, Mike. You’re the one who
’s going. You’re off to an exciting new career, living the high-life with your famous mates. I’m left here, building this life. You can’t say who I can and can’t see. I knew Gavin for a long time. He’s still someone who knows me, who might give me some support if I need it. God knows my parents won’t. So give me a break, okay? There is nothing going on.’

  Mike took a breath, then released it. Whatever he’d planned to say was gone. Hands on hips, he hung his head. Looking at Mike now, she didn’t see an international champion with a battered nose, but a contrite young man with a battered ego.

  ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. You need some stability. You need your mates.’ Mates might have been over-egging it where Gavin was concerned, but she wasn’t splitting hairs right now.

  ‘I’ll be back soon,’ she said, cloaking her dressing gown around herself, and retrieving her dress from the floor. ‘I’m grabbing a shower and I’ll meet him at the door to send him away. After that you can gripe at me and I’ll make it up to you with all sorts of favours, even some kinky ones,’ – she’d hoped for a crack of a smile, but got very little – ‘and then if you’re interested we can go out for dinner and you can stay over. All the nights until Monday, if you like.’ Based on this afternoon, she’d take whatever she could get.

  She waited. But he remained mute. His forehead was creased, his eyes fixed on her. They weren’t angry, just…sad. She moved to place a firm kiss on his lips. He didn’t return it. ‘Let’s make the most of what’s left, Mikey.’

  ‘Ask me to stay, Tiff,’ it gushed out of him. ‘Ask me.’

  It would be so easy; to have him in her life, in her bed, in her heart. The words sat there like a bullet on her tongue, but she couldn’t pull the trigger. She couldn’t spoil his chance. She’d allowed herself a moment of having him, but she couldn’t take his future from him. Above all else, she couldn’t ignore her deep-seated want for Mike to realise his potential and prosper, even if it was at her own expense, just as Blackie and Nanna had done.

  Cupping his cheek, she could only shake her head and whisper ‘I can’t.’

  Not wanting him to see her cry, she raced for the locker room and took the quickest shower ever, all the while trying to stem the tears as she cobbled together a proper speech of why she couldn’t ask him, but also properly defining what he meant to her. She should tell him that at least. He deserved to know how she felt. She wished he hadn’t been in any doubt last time. She’d tell him straight away before dealing with Gavin.

  Only, the words never made it out of her mouth, as she stood in her bedroom doorway, still dripping slightly in her saggy dress, surveying the devastatingly Mike-free space.

  Chapter 30

  ‘You look shot, sweetheart,’ Gavin said bounding in to reception, pausing only to kiss her cheek, which had her momentarily stunned. It was the closest they’d been since that night. Tiff began to cringe at the memory, but then the muscles released. He was here, wasn’t he? He couldn’t think her too much of an idiot. She was no longer going to feel bad about putting things out there in the privacy of her own bedroom. She’d made an effort and that was what counted. It was a much easier, more charitable stance to take after the joys she’d experienced that afternoon, which somewhat blotted out her earlier, lesser experiences.

  ‘Gav, can I take a rain check on the dinner?’ Tiff asked. She didn’t think she could cope with more emotion. Being around Gavin required firing on all cylinders. ‘It’s been a long day. I was at a funeral.’ Besides, what had her properly drained now was the dismay at Mike’s leaving. She didn’t want things left like that. She didn’t want him to go away hating her.

  ‘But you need to eat. The table’s booked. Speaking of, you’ve lost a tonne of weight. Well done.’ He moved further into the building. ‘The grapevine’s buzzing about this place. Do me a quick tour.’ Without waiting for her, he strode up the stairs. ‘Glad I sent you that sofa,’ he called behind him, ‘Looks great there. But then, it was always your favourite piece.’

  Fists clenched, she bleakly followed him through the rooms. All she wanted was to bury herself in her duvet, fall asleep and end the day. Was that too much to ask?

  ‘That part of the roof not stable?’ he asked, nodding at the poles in the fitness studio.

  ‘Pole-fitness, Gavin,’ she said, sighing. Now she found it disappointing when the poles didn’t light up a guy’s eyes. ‘Google it.’

  ‘Decent office,’ he noted on reaching the top floor. It was twice the size of his own and had a view to boot, but she didn’t say so. She knew he knew. ‘I’m impressed.’

  A month ago this was an accolade she was desperate for. She’d thought it would be the ticket back to her old life. And now she had it, Tiff realised she knew it was impressive; she was genuinely proud of it and herself. Having Gavin tell her so wasn’t nearly the validation she’d thought it would be.

  ‘Right,’ said Gavin, clapping his hands together, ‘Food.’ He wasn’t going to budge on this and falling into her old ways, Tiff resigned herself to going. The sooner she went, the sooner she could be home again.

  ‘New dress?’ he asked getting in the car. She looked down at it and wished she wasn’t wearing it. Gavin looked as handsome as he’d always done, though Tiff found herself for the first time looking for some flaws; not to diminish his looks, but to soften them.

  Wittering about his recent sales figures, Tiff sensed Gavin was slightly on edge. Could the ever-confident Gavin be nervous? She was a little tense about the whole thing herself, primarily because she didn’t know what this dinner was about. And there was the Mike thing. She willed herself to sideline thoughts of Mike for now.

  Oh for fuck’s sake. Tiff realised where Gavin was taking her. For some reason, incomprehensible to Tiff and probably the rest of mankind, he found it appropriate to bring her back to Lorenzo’s. In whose mind was it tactful to take someone back to where you dumped them? Oh, yes, that would be Gavin’s.

  He guided her across the cobbles of the old High Street and through the door into the restaurant with a warm hand on the small of her back. It felt strange to be touched by two men in such a short window of time. Not even the wonderful aroma of Italian food could set her on an even keel.

  ‘I got our usual table,’ he murmured in her ear. It was flattering; he wanted other people to see them out together, on display. The first time he’d booked this table it had meant exactly that to her, but this time, knowing Mike had seen them, she couldn’t think of anywhere she’d less like to sit. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to change; she’d have to explain. ‘It’s still the best place in town.’ After Greggs, she thought.

  Lorenzo himself, a charming older man whose rotundity confirmed his testing everything on the menu personally, pulled her usual seat out for her. Gavin was already parked in his.

  ‘Can I have the seat by the radiator tonight?’ She needed to change something up. Gavin frowned.

  ‘Really? You always sit there.’ She didn’t remember it ever being by choice. Rather than backing down, she did the silent waiting thing. She was beginning to get the hang of it now. Gavin looked perturbed, his eyes flitting from the seat to the view of the high-end butchers across the road. ‘You prefer the one with the view.’ Tiff had never considered dead, hooked game birds a fine view.

  ‘Actually, no, I’ve just never had the option.’ He looked at her askance, not quite sure of her.

  ‘Lorenzo? Do you have another table? This one is a bit chilly,’ Gavin said to their host and flashed Tiff an accommodating smile. Well, she could have swung for him then. He’d always taken a chilly table and given her the cooler seat at it even though he knew she got cold. She quietly seethed as Lorenzo led them to a booth-style table with padded banquet seats. She slid in, expecting Gavin to take the opposite side. He slid in next to her. Somewhat confused she covertly edged further around on the shiny maroon leather.

  ‘This is nice,’ Gavin said, perusing the new angle on the restaurant. ‘Cosier, more private. I like
it.’ Tiff busied herself in the menu, not sure what to make of things.

  Lorenzo appeared with two glasses of Prosecco, his notepad and a smile.

  ‘Gamberetti followed by lasagne with a side of zucchini fritti,’ Lorenzo reeled off, like a pleasant joke between them. He was spot on, of course. As Tiff started in on her Prosecco, Gavin gave his staple order and Lorenzo vanished to the kitchen as if transporting the world’s most important missive.

  ‘So tell me about the gym, Tiff.’ It was the first question he’d asked her about herself. So far, he’d steered off so much as a simple How’ve you been? She opened her mouth to tell him, but he didn’t wait. ‘Clearly the change is suiting you – you’ve sorted your hair, you’re looking better. You’d become a bit of a pudding when we took our break, hadn’t you? A bit of a couch potato.’

  It had been a long day. Strike that, it had been a long sad day, (with the exception of the sex bit which had been fan-bloody-tastic, but exhausting nonetheless) and suddenly Tiff felt the full weight of it. Why had she agreed to come out?

  ‘Other than critiquing my figure, was there something you wanted, Gavin?’ She wiggled to sit on her hands. It seemed safest. Thumping people in public ahead of a planned news story was probably not best business practice.

  ‘I’m just getting there, Tiff,’ he said, sipping his drink, oblivious to her simmer, ‘I see a shift in you. When we decided to separate, we were clearly on different paths.’ OMG, not this again. ‘You didn’t appear to share my ambitions. But look what you pulled out of the bag. You were on my path after all.’

  ‘I was?’ What was he saying?

  ‘Maybe you were simply recouping. Stopping at the services, so to speak. A detour perhaps.’ He sat back as if beholding her. She leaned forward, trying to understand. She was getting lost in his conference twaddle. ‘Either way, look at you, sweetheart. You’re back on track. You’re the Tiff who set up the bookkeeping business. You have drive again. In hindsight, taking the break was probably the best thing that could have happened to you. You weren’t going to do all of this, lounging on the sofa in your saggy leggings watching Jeremy Kyle, were you?’