I reach up and rub at my chest as visions of walking in on him and his personal trainer screwing on my burnt-orange velvet sofa spring to mind. Ugh! Where is the eye bleach or rewind button when you need it? I would give anything just to forget it and go back to normal.
My life has been blown to pieces in the last three months. Everything has changed, and I’m still scrambling to try and make sense of a future without Lucas in it, trying to fill that gaping hole he’s left in my life. Pretending I’m okay. Faking it until I make it.
And Theo is certainly hot enough to make Lucas burn with inadequacy if I were to take him to my dad’s party with me. Lucas is good-looking, but Theo, he’s all kinds of hot.
But … no … my mind is made up. I’m going to cancel. It’s official; I’m a big, fat chicken.
I’ll catch him before he leaves his meeting and let him know I can’t accompany him after all. Or even better, I’ll take the coward’s way out and text him instead, in case he’s annoyed I’m messing him around. Dumping via text will be much easier and less awkward for us both. Besides, he can’t be too upset about it really. I mean, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and it’s not like a hastily scribbled contract and a handshake are legally binding. And to be honest, he’s probably having the exact case of buyer’s remorse I am now and thinking of a polite way to let me down too.
I wheel myself in closer to my desk and reach into my handbag. I haven’t even unpacked yet. When I arrived earlier this morning, I was handed a list of coffees that were required for my boss’s meeting and shooed out of the building to fetch them before I even got a chance to sit down at my desk. Then, Lift-gate happened.
I pull out my Magic 8-Ball and set it on my desk to use as a paperweight. Other than a few pairs of shoes and a couple of handbags, it’s the only thing useful in the three packages Lucas sent over via my parents yesterday. Everything else is pretty much junk that I’ll have to get rid of at some point.
I pull out my phone and am about to compose my letdown text to Theo when a shadow falls over me. I glance up and see David, my boss, looking down at me as he sets his hand on my shoulder, squeezing supportively.
“Lucie! What a disastrous morning you’ve had already, and it’s barely past ten o’clock. How are you?” he asks, worriedly eyeing me.
I force a smile and shrug. “I’m fine. It wasn’t too bad. I’m sorry I missed your meeting.” I was supposed to have taken notes.
He waves a dismissive hand and perches on the edge of my desk, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger. “Oh, don’t worry about that! I’m just glad you’re okay. You were in there quite a while; it must have been awful.”
It wasn’t. Actually, it was quite fun. “It wasn’t ideal, but I survived,” I joke, grinning.
He blows out a big breath and rakes a hand through his hair, messing it up. “Lucky it wasn’t me; I hate enclosed spaces. I think I’ll take the stairs from now on! I might even lose a few pounds because of it. My wife is always telling me I should get in more exercise.” He chuckles, patting his rounded tummy.
My mind flicks to Theo and that cute, panicked expression that crossed his face when he realised we were stuck. It made my heart clench, and I longed to reach out and soothe him and relieve his worry. In a weird way, I kind of liked that he was a little scared of being in there. With him looking the way he does—all tall, imposing, and perfect—his vulnerability made me instantly like him and put me at ease because it showed he wasn’t infallible.
David stands and gives my shoulder another pat. “Good to see you’re okay. Take a few minutes’ breather and compose yourself a bit. When you’re done and ready to start, can you head into the stockroom and have a sort-out? We’ve had a delivery of galley copies for our autumn releases that need to be sent to reviewers. And we have a photographer coming in to take pictures of the new Johansson book this afternoon. Would you mind assisting him to ensure we get everything we need for our socials and promotions we have scheduled?”
I nod. “On it.”
As he walks away, I slip my phone into my pocket before finding all the reviewer paperwork I need to help me sort the galley copies of the books and send them out. Heading into the stockroom (more accurately, the glorified cupboard), I close the door behind me and pull out my phone.
I need to speak to Aubrey; she’s going to lose her mind when I tell her what I’ve got myself into this morning. I shoot off a quick text to her, arranging to meet at our favourite café for a late lunch—seeing as Theo ate my lunch in the lift.
Just as I’m about to lock my screen, a Twitter notification catches my eye. I’ve been tagged in a photo. Flicking my eyes around to make sure I’m still alone and not about to be busted for being on social media when I should be working, I open the notification.
It’s from Theo; it’s the selfie he took of us in the lift.
My eyes rake over him. Jeez, he’s gorgeous.
His smile makes my insides clench, and every female part of me wakes up and pays attention. His hair flops over his forehead and makes me want to run my fingers through it and push it back for him. His grin is contagious, and I feel a smile creep onto my lips too.
Forcing myself to stop looking at his photo, I set to work, opening boxes and piling up books, ticking them off the inventory. It’s tedious, monotonous work, but someone has to do it.
Stepping into the busy café at lunchtime, I head straight to the last empty table. I’m starving. My one-and-a-half doughnuts this morning have nowhere near filled the hole inside me, and my stomach has been grumbling for the last hour.
When the waitress comes over, I order two lattes and two club sandwiches, as I know that’s what Aubrey will want too. They’re the best here.
Five minutes later, just as the waitress is setting our order on the table, Aubrey bustles in, flicking her blonde curls out of her face and pulling off her oversize shades. She beams a smile as she struts over and plops into the chair opposite me, her blue eyes already probing me for answers as she picks up her drink.
“So,” she says over the rim of her coffee cup, “you got stuck in the lift with a cute guy? Spill. I want all the details.”
I grin, rolling my eyes.
When I called her and asked her to inform my office of what was happening, the first thing she had asked me was, “Is he cute?”
Classic Aubrey.
It’s no wonder she works downstairs for Hummingbird Ink, the romance imprint of my publishing house; she’s always looking for the next happily ever after, either in real life or fiction. To be fair though, it’s my ultimate goal to work for Hummingbird Ink too. Romance is my thing as well; you can’t beat a good romance novel that tugs at your heartstrings.
“He was very cute.” I take a sip of my latte. “And you will never guess what I went and agreed to.” I shake my head at myself and chuckle.
She sits up straighter, eyeing me hopefully. “Please tell me it’s a date.”
Aubrey is always nagging me about moving on from Lucas and finding someone new.
“Kind of,” I admit, wincing. “He asked me to go to Scotland with him this weekend.”
“What?!” Her voice is so loud, people around us stop talking and openly stare.
“Shh,” I hiss, laughing as I lean in so we can talk more privately. “He has to go to his brother’s wedding and needs a date, so he asked me to go with him. He sold it as basically a four-day all-you-can-drink mini break.”
Her mouth comically opens and closes like a fish.
I chew on my lip and shrug one shoulder as I continue, “But I’m not going to go. I said yes at the time, but I was under duress. Now that I’m not trapped in a metal box with him, I’ve realised how damn stupid it is. I can’t go away for the weekend with a guy I just met.” I really am certifiable for even agreeing to it in the first place.
“Wait, who is this guy? Does he work for Bluebird imprint, like you?” She leans forward into my space, her eyes wide and excited, food long forgotten.
&
nbsp; I shrug and scrunch my nose. “No, he had a visitor’s badge clipped on his pocket, so he doesn’t work there. I don’t really know who he is. His name is Theo. He’s hilarious, and he’s super hot. That’s all I know.” I pull out my phone and open the Twitter photo, sliding it across the table to her. “This is him.”
Her eyes widen like saucers, and her mouth drops open as she looks at the picture. “Oh my God. The Theo you were stuck in a lift with is Theo Stone?”
I shrug, taking a bite of my sandwich. “I guess. I don’t know. He only told me his first name. You know him?”
She puts her hand on her forehead and does a long, disbelieving blink. “Theo Stone invited you for a weekend of sin with him in Scotland, and you’re considering not going? Are you insane?”
I wince at her scolding tone.
She purses her lips. “Lucie, you’re going. If you don’t go, I’m unfriending you. You have to go, and you have to sleep with him!”
I almost choke on my food. “What? Shut up! No way!”
“Yes way! Have you seen him?”
“Obviously. We were trapped in a lift for almost an hour together,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes and chewing more carefully.
“He’s so damn handsome. Everyone in my office has a thing for him. When we first moved buildings last year, he got lost and wandered onto our floor, trying to find the children’s division. We were all falling over ourselves to show him where it was. Now, we all try to sneak a look when he comes in for a meeting. That face! I’d like to sit on it.”
I snicker behind my hand. “Aubrey!”
She sucks her teeth and plucks a packet of sugar from the bowl on the table, throwing it at me. “You’re going. I need this to happen. One of us needs to screw him. I’d volunteer as tribute, but he didn’t ask me to Scotland, so …” She trails off, waggling her eyebrows.
I can’t contain my groan. “I’m not ready to start dating people. I’m not sleeping with him.” I say it sternly, but my mind is already running rampant with thoughts of the feel of his skin under my fingertips, his mouth on my body. I haven’t had sex for a while, and it’s not like I’m getting a lot of offers for naked time. Plus, he is damn hot.
“Who said anything about dating him? Come on, are you honestly telling me you don’t fancy him? Of course you do!” she states knowingly.
I chew on my lip and scrunch my nose. She’s right; of course I do. He’s melt-your-underwear hot, especially when he smiles.
Aubrey continues, “Look, you’ve been frustrated. This is the twenty-first century, and you’re a modern woman. Go get it, girl. Sex is just sex, if you want it to be. No need to be ashamed for wanting to be satisfied. We all have needs. You can sleep with him with no regrets or strings. I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. All I’m saying is, go with an open mind. Don’t beaver-dam yourself before you even board the plane.”
I chuckle and take a sip of my drink.
“And don’t let memories of that idiot Lucas beaver-dam you either.”
I chew on my lip. I shouldn’t have told her about his offer. I should have just sent my rejection text to Theo and pretended it’d never happened. Now that I’ve told her, she’ll drone on and on about it until I change my mind and agree to go. Especially if she thinks it’ll get me laid. She’s already tried persuading me that to get over Lucas, I need to get under someone else. So far, I’ve resisted her attempts at matchmaking me with random people she knows (including her dentist and the guy who delivers our pizza), but looking at her now, I know she won’t let this one go. She’ll be following me around like my own personal Just Do It Shia LaBeouf GIF cheerleader until I cave.
“Lucie, you have to go! You deserve a free holiday with a hot guy. You’re going!”
I groan in defeat and close my eyes.
“You’re going!” she repeats sternly.
“Yes, Mum,” I joke, sighing in exasperation. But I’m only saying that to shut her up.
I have no intention of changing my mind. It’s too absurd. Yes, the idea of a holiday sounds great, and spending time with a hot, hilarious guy is appealing, but … I’m not brave enough to be that impulsive anymore. Besides, I already have a date lined up this weekend with Netflix and one of my mother’s tiramisus. I’ll simply text Theo a rejection later and then tell Aubrey I couldn’t get time off work at short notice. That’s a perfectly reasonable and believable excuse.
The rest of lunch is her raving on and on about Theo and how jealous she is. She tells me he’s an illustrator. I must admit, I’m more than a little intrigued about him now, and I can’t wait to get back to the office and look him up to see what books he’s worked on and if he’s talented. I tell her about our bargain—that in return for me going to the wedding, he’ll come to my dad’s party and let me pretend we’re a couple to make Lucas jealous. No surprises, Aubrey loves the idea.
I feel bad for lying to her, but it must be done.
By the time lunch is finished and we’re heading back to our building, arm in arm, I feel a little deflated. She’s so upbeat and positive about it, but I’m back to wallowing in self-pity about losing my fiancé to a prettier, fitter, younger version of me. Putting on a brave face is exhausting.
As we flash our badges to get through the barrier at reception, the lady sitting there gives me a wide smile and holds up one finger. “Oh, wait, you’re Lucie, aren’t you? Lucie Gordio?”
“I am.” I nod and stop by her desk, thinking she must have some more galley copies or a delivery or contract for me to sign for.
“Perfect timing. I was about to call upstairs to you!”
“Oh, really?”
She grins and reaches under her desk, pulling out a box of six Krispy Kreme doughnuts, heavy on the biscotti variety. “Someone left these for you.” She makes an excited squealing noise and grins, eyes flitting from me to Aubrey.
I take the box, and my heart leaps into my throat. I don’t even need to read the note that’s written in black Sharpie on the corner of the box to know these are from Theo. It’s too random and too much of a coincidence to be anyone else sending me doughnuts.
“Ooh, yummy! Share!” Aubrey chirps, grinning down at them, not realising the significance of them.
“They’re from Theo.” I take a deep breath and read his message aloud, “Don’t ever let it be said that I didn’t buy you dinner.” It’s so cute that I almost do a little internal swoon as I chew on the inside of my cheek.
Aubrey excitedly claps her hands, and the receptionist gives a dreamy sigh.
And that thoughtful inside joke is all it takes to change my mind again. I open a text, and instead of letting him down … I send him:
Me: Thanks for the calories! They’ll all be eaten within three hours.
And I tack on my date of birth at the end.
Screw it, I have nothing to lose. And I’m now strangely excited about my little impromptu weekend getaway. Aubrey is right; I do deserve it.
I head off upstairs to go book the time off.
Later that night, just as Aubrey and I are sitting in front of the TV, eating my mum’s reheated cannelloni, Theo texts me with our flight times and numbers and the itinerary for the wedding weekend.
I stare down at my phone in confusion for a minute and then text him back.
Me: Is that a joke for Friday night?
Theo: Nope, deadly serious.
“Oh crap, what have I got myself into?” I groan.
six
Theo
London Stansted Airport around lunchtime on Thursday is packed with eager, happy passengers ready to jet off on their holidays. I tug my carry-on suitcase closer to me as a group of young lads come in and almost trip over it, as they’re not paying the slightest bit of attention to their surroundings. They’re about eighteen, and they likely have just been dropped off by their mums for their first ever lads’ shagfest. Probably headed to Ibiza, if the looks of them is anything to go by. They’re jeering and skipping around like excitable puppies with n
o clue as to what they should be doing. I smile to myself and wish I were going with them. A nice, carefree holiday where I wouldn’t have to watch the girl I was semi in love with marry my kin. What I wouldn’t give for that instead of what I’m about to do this weekend.
I chew on my thumbnail again as nerves ball up inside me. I had to switch around my plans for today after Lucie agreed to come with me. I was supposed to be flying up with my parents and sister today but cancelled my flight and rebooked one with Lucie instead from an airport closer to where she lives for convenience—hers, not mine. Now, I’m wondering if I made a mistake. We agreed to meet here five minutes ago, but there’s no sign of her. Usually, I’m the one late, but as my train got me here mid-morning today, I’ve already had a couple of hours to stand around and worry myself sick that she won’t turn up.
We’ve not had much contact, just a quick message or two on the Monday that we met, merely communication about flight times and numbers, and then we had a couple of short check-in messages too—the last of which was yesterday evening when I asked her if she was done packing. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since then.
What if she’s chickened out?
I glance back at the wall of monitors. Our flight check-in is open now. What do I do if she doesn’t show? How long should I even wait here before I have to board without her? I can’t miss the wedding, though the thought is tempting.
I glance down at my watch again, seeing the second hand tick around agonisingly slow. I should have arranged to pick her up at her place, so we could have taxied here together—less chance of her pulling out at the last minute then.
Stand-In Saturday: (A standalone romcom. Book 2 in the Love For Days series) Page 5