“We can’t do this,” I mutter as his lips brush against my neck. “Henry, I’m not kidding,” I say, but the want in my voice betrays me.
“Are you sure?” Henry asks, letting one of his hands move to my thigh.
“No, please, we.” I sigh, placing my hand on his and stop him. “We can’t keep on doing this.”
“Why not?” he asks, but lets me go, and even though my legs feel like jelly, I stand up.
“Because we can’t,” I mutter, looking at him. “I have to go home.” My hand runs through my hair as he frowns.
“What’s different?” Henry stands up and stares at me in a way that just grabs my heart and yanks it out before trampling all over it.
“Nothing… Nothing’s different.”
Chapter Forty-One
By the time I meet with Tom, I’m both relieved and stressed. The fact that I’m going behind Leticia’s back’s really not my favorite thing, but I keep telling myself that tonight will not be a repeat of the previous time when I saw him. I just want to make sure that he’s fine, that he’s read the scripts that my assistant sent him, or at least, started, and that he’s on the same page as me about the other night.
My resolution goes out the window the moment we meet in St James’ Park. He’s sitting in one of the benches near the lake wearing big squared glasses and is immersed in the book he’s reading.
“Could I have your autograph?” I say in a hushed voice, waiting for him to turn. And the moment he looks up and grins at me, he doesn’t disappoint. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he says, his cheeks flush while he closes the book and then stands up.
I’m reassuring myself that this will be fine, but he pulls me into a hug before kissing my lips softly.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, looking everywhere but at him because I need to get my damn hormones under control.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been here; I thought we could walk around for a bit before stopping somewhere to eat?” he asks and I nod before he takes my bag from my hand. “What do you have in this bag, rocks?” he asks.
“Body parts of the people who piss me off,” I state in the most serious of voices before I watch him laugh.
“You know, someone might believe you,” he warns me, taking my hand and lacing our fingers together. This feels like the most natural thing in the world, which immediately makes me feel guilty. Henry’s out of my mind momentarily, and we walk all the way along the lake toward the exit before going in the direction of the mall.
“I love that view,” I say, pointing at Buckingham Palace. “But it’s so tiny inside.”
“Not so small. I mean, the Queen’s bedroom is supposed to cover one whole floor,” he explains and I look toward the building again. There are some guards standing in front of the small guard houses and several tourists are snapping photos of them.
“Maybe,” I concede when we cross the road. “So, have you read any of the scripts?”
“Yes, and I’m sure that you’ll agree that I should do another play,” he announces, but I hesitate to agree.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t.” I tuck my hair back, thinking of how to word my next sentence. “If you want to do another play, that’ll be great, but you also have a number of film offers. You’re hot property right now and you shouldn’t let those opportunities dry up.”
“It’s a very special play about friendship and love, and it’s by an up and coming playwright. I can’t say no,” he explains, looking ahead and then drapes his arm around my waist.
“Then don’t,” I say, letting him lead me to the small Lebanese café that I know so well. The hostess smiles in a friendly way before leading us to one of the tables in the back.
“I would like you to read the play,” he tells me, pulling out the chair for me.
I thank him before sitting down. “Sure, I’d like that.”
“Excellent, no more shop talk, then.” He reaches out for my hand before rubbing circles with his thumb against my skin. “So… what shall we talk about?”
“Anything you want, as long as it’s not work,” I say because I don’t want to think about how this is going to go down once Leticia finds out.
“Ah.” He chuckles as the waitress brings the menus and then walks back to the front of house. “Your assistant said you liked Lebanese food.”
“Indeed, I do.” I look the menu over. “Actually, I love most Middle Eastern foods and desserts.” I stare at the baklava on the dessert tray and sigh. “This is my favorite thing in the world, served with a sugary mint tea.”
“So, you have a sweet tooth,” he says, looking at the menu. “Were you a difficult child growing up? Going straight for dessert rather than eating food?” he asks with a wink.
“What? It’s right there; I had to look.” I turn the pages of the menu for something to do.
“Right, so what will you eat after you have your dessert?”
“Another baklava?” I tell him as my phone pings. I glance at it before turning it off. The last thing I need is to receive any more messages from Henry.
“Hi!” Diana’s voice makes me jump.
“What-how-what are you doing here?” I ask as Diana’s eyes zoom in on Tom.
“Henry suggested this place,” she says. “He’s just outside, taking a call,” she adds and I immediately wish the earth would open and swallow me whole.
Diana beams at Tom, then looks at me expectantly.
“These are my friends from back home: Diana and Bernie,” I say. Tom stands up so he can shake their hands. The door opens and I see Henry walking in, still on the phone. He freezes a few feet away from us before he slides the phone into his suit’s pocket.
He’s wearing my favorite grey pin-striped suit with the salmon shirt. Discreetly, I tap the floor, wondering why it’s not opening.
“Nice meeting you,” Tom’s voice brings my attention back to him.
“And this is Henry,” I say, uncertain. Henry nods his way.
“We didn’t know you were one of Gracie’s clients,” Bernie gushes, staring at Tom. Henry’s hot stare burns the back of my neck the moment I turn to look at Tom.
“It’s a rather recent event,” he says politely as he helps them gather chairs so they can join us, even one for Henry on my right.
“Well, that’s awesome. We’re huge fans,” Bernie states and I try to kick her under the table, but kick the table’s leg instead. Henry scrapes the floor with the chair before sitting beside me.
“Diana and Bernie were trying to call you,” Henry whispers in my ear, a shiver moving down my spine.
“I didn’t see any calls from them,” I reply, pulling myself slightly away from him before settling my eyes on Tom. “Henry’s an editor,” I explain to Tom, who immediately looks at Henry with renewed interest.
“That’s fascinating. Such a great profession.” He pauses and then adds, “I thought you looked familiar. Are you Charles Huntingdon’s son?” Tom asks animatedly as Henry’s given a menu by the waitress.
“Yes,” he says after a pause, eyes fixed on the menu. Tom nods, undeterred.
“I studied with your sister,” he says with a smile. “How’s Veronica?”
The pause extends between Tom’s question and Henry’s silence. I clear my throat, fixing my eyes on Henry until he shifts in the seat and then glares my way. It takes another five minutes for him to look Tom’s way and reply.
“She lives in Australia with her husband.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Diana and Bernie are giving me extremely not-so-subtle looks. I clear my throat when the waitress comes to take our order. She starts with Diana and Bernie, who both order a dish with hummus and lamb sprinkled with pine nuts, after being reassured that one portion was enough for the both of them. When the waitress turns to us, Tom smiles pleasantly, motioning toward me, but the girl can’t take her eyes off him.
“Well, let’s get a ba—”
“She’ll have the Lahem Meshwi with the spicy
Arabic salad,” Henry says without missing a beat before offering a winning smile to the waitress. “And I’ll have the same,” he says, handing her the menu. “And a bottle of Chateau Kefraya.”
She grins before nodding as she looks at Tom, who is utterly befuddled.
“I’ll have the falafel and the non-spicy salad.” His politeness shines when he speaks to the girl before handing her the menu. The moment she walks away, his blue eyes settle on Henry, then me and back again.
Henry looks at him with an air of triumph. I wish I could kick him right in the shins. “She likes her lamb,” he says after a pause.
“I guess she does,” Tom replies without looking at him.
When will this lunch end?
***
The next night I make a promise to myself that no matter how hot Tom is, and no matter how sweet he is, I’m not going to be a coward. I’m not going to be silenced by his beautiful eyes or his sweet demeanor. This relationship can’t continue. I meet Tom outside his local pub and arm myself with liquid courage, a.k.a. a shot of Patron.
A crowd of giggling girls moves closer to the bar and I lift my eyes up to look at the object of their affection. Tom stands in the middle of a group of people vying for his attention. He’s dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a light pink shirt and no tie, and a light grey scarf hanging loosely around his neck as he signs autographs. I can’t help but think he looks pretty perfect, which is immediately a red flag. Perfection usually means that something terrible will follow. Or I’ll just make an even bigger mess of this than I already have.
He’s just not Henry perfect, I remind myself.
After motioning for him to know that I’m going to fetch a booth, I order two pints and wait for them. Once I pay for them, I move to the back and sit down, waiting for him.
“I should have gotten those,” he says, sitting opposite me.
“Well, you were busy,” I reply, pushing a pint toward him.
“I can’t say no to people who want to talk to me…”
“And you shouldn’t,” I reassure him, then watch him stand up and walk around so he can sit on my side of the booth inches from me.
“So.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Is your head better?” he asks, running his fingers through my hair as I stare at him, wondering why I feel absolutely nothing. It’s not like I don’t feel some sort of connection, lust even, but beyond that… nothing.
“Yes, it is.” I force my eyes on the beer so I can concentrate on something other than Henry, who keeps popping in and out of my thoughts.
“What about your friends? Are they having fun with Henry?” he asks while I have some of the beer, and thank God I don’t choke on it. Something in his tone is off, but I don’t want to dwell on that.
“They’re busy organizing the party.”
Tom’s eyes are guarded for a moment before he sips his drink. “I bet they’re going to spoil you rotten,” he finally says after a pause.
“Maybe, or embarrass me to heaven and hell.” I place the pint down on the table as he lets his hand move down my back, stopping at my waist. He smiles and I fix my eyes on his. “Yes?”
“Will you go to New York with me?” he asks, slightly breathless, s as he watches my reaction. “I have to do a press junket next month. I’ll be gone for up to three months,” he adds, rubbing my back.
“I don’t know if I can take time off,” I begin, because technically, he has representation in the states and they could do this with him. No need for me to open that can of worms now.
“I want you to come with me.” Tom takes my hand in his and then brushes his lips against my knuckles.
“Leticia would so sack me,” I tell him, trying to understand what has changed between the night when I slept with him and today. Was it all just the anger I felt against Henry? Was I that drunk?
“Come on, we can wine and dine together and you can see your family, spend time with your other friends.”
I would be lying to myself if I didn’t think it was a tempting offer. However, I wouldn’t be able to do much; I would be at his beck and call twenty-four/seven. And though I would love to see my parents, being in the same city isn’t a guarantee. My mother and father still volunteer a lot. My mother also organizes a lot of activities for children learning French and my father gives lectures on American and European History a few weeks during the month. “That’s very nice of you to suggest, but I really think Leticia would rather your American agents do that,” I say, about to pull my hand away from his lips when I hear someone clearing their throat behind us.
It doesn’t take long for my brain to connect the sound to a known person and the moment I meet her eyes, my body flushes in embarrassment. Leticia’s eyes are like sharp blades. I stand up, but can’t go too far, as Tom is in the way. Leticia doesn’t even wait; she turns around to walk outside of the pub. Once Tom moves out of the way, I follow like a sheep to the slaughter and he walks behind me.
She walks to the side alleyway, away from most of the people who are smoking outside the pub. After pacing around for a few seconds, she shakes her head, then stops, lifting her hand the moment that I try to talk and stops me dead in my tracks.
“What the hell, Gracie?” she asks, looking from me to Tom. “Do you know how hard I work to make sure that this sort of thing doesn’t happen? Do you know how hard it is for me to—” She places her fingers on the bridge of her nose before taking a deep breath in. “You’re meant to be an agent, not a girlfriend, even if sometimes that seems to be the job description.” She finally looks at me and I see nothing but disappointment.
“I know-I know. This, we’re not in a relationship. It just—”
“It’s my fault,” Tom says, stepping between us, looking at Leticia. “I’m not going to sue you or whatever you’re thinking about, Leticia.” She watches him for a moment before her eyes shift to mine.
“You know, when I advised you to stop sleeping with Henry, I didn’t mean to go and fuck the first client that would have you,” she says in a low growl before shaking her head. “I expect your resignation in the morning. Even, if that means losing you as a client,” Leticia says, looking at Tom before walking away.
I know better than to try and walk after her. I broke the only rule in her handbook that she lives by. My eyes glue onto the cobblestones under my feet as Tom lets out a sigh.
“You told me that he was just your friend.” His voice is nothing but a soft whisper and I can feel the hurt in it before I look at him.
“Tom.” My voice breaks as I try to gather my thoughts while staring at the floor. “It’s a very toxic relationship,” I say, starting to believe what Franky and Leticia said about it.
“Have you slept with him since we met?” Tom asks and I shake my head.
“No, I don’t do that,” I say, trying hard to keep my mind from venturing away from this conversation.
“Not since you and I started this,” he repeats as I nod.
“I’ve not been with Henry.” He nods, but something in his eyes tells me he doesn’t believe me. He moves closer to me, kissing my forehead before he sighs.
“I’ll see you later.” He then walks away and I know when he hails the cab, that this will probably be the last time I see Tom Murphy in the flesh. The thought stirs no emotions in me. I turn to walk back to the Tube.
Chapter Forty-Three
The knock on the door grows louder and louder with each passing second. I pull the duvet over my head and pretend I can’t hear it. Maybe if I ignore it, whoever it is that is out there will give up and go away.
Of course, that only happens in movies. The longer I stay under the duvet, the more the person gets impatient and thus the louder the knock gets. I’m ready to leap out of the bed when I hear the front door opening.
I wonder why I never bolt the damn flat door as I swear under my breath. Henry’s footsteps echo around the living room and I get out of the bed to find clothes and change. The last thing I want is a lecture from him.
; “Darling,” Diana calls. Can’t this day get better? “You didn’t forget we have that pre-birthday dinner with your parents and everyone else, right? Franky and Marc are taking us to pick them up from the airport.”
“Hold on,” Henry says before rushing to the bedroom and opening the door. He closes it as soon as he’s inside, ignoring my friends. “So, were you hiding under the duvet? Have you forgotten the girls booked La Smorfia?”
“Go away. I’m not in bed under the duvet. I’m getting dressed so I can kick you out.”
He doesn’t move, instead he sits on the edge of my bed. I growl.
“How did she find out about you and Tom Murphy?” Henry asks. Rather than replying, I open the wardrobe to get a t-shirt and jeans.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s wearing the tight long-sleeved shirt I bought him for Christmas, it’s red and clings to his muscles. It’s mostly distracting when I want to pretend that I don’t care about him, or what he has to say.
“She saw us at the pub,” I finally say after a pause before taking off my pajama top and pulling the shirt over my head.
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. She probably suspected something.” Henry glances at me before shaking his head. “I can’t believe you got the sack for shagging Tom Murphy.”
“I didn’t get fired for that, you get fired when you break the rules. I broke the rules.” My voice is sour, but I don’t dwell. Instead, my focus goes to putting on the jeans without falling to the ground.
“So, where’s lover boy?” he asks, expecting an answer. I don’t have anything, so I shrug. Henry’s amusement vanishes and instead a frown covers his face.
“I’ve not seen him since I got fired.”
“Well, that’s nice of him.” The sarcasm burns through his words before I hit him with a pillow.
“It’s not like that. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea to see each other.” I grab a sweater and then pull it on. “Plus, he was slightly put off since Leticia mentioned you.”
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