“Too easy. We’ll get takeaway or we can cook. I make a pretty mean risotto. Hilary’s even complimented me on it.”
The thought of Dan’s mother sent a geyser of stomach acid splashing and burning. “No one can know about this. Especially our mothers!”
This time his look was loaded with gratitude. “Excellent point. If Hilary got wind of this, she’d jump straight to weddings and babies.”
Alice’s thoughts were never far from babies and they immediately drifted there in a delicious daydream. Like the pointed tip of a knife, her mother’s words about miscarriages and the black and white statements of the magazine article jabbed sharply. The dream vanished, leaving her anxious. Alice didn’t have plenty of time. To have any hope of meeting someone who not only shared her interests but her life plan, it was imperative she play a numbers game on the dating apps. She must commit to talking to five men a week and if she sensed a connection with any of them, run their photo through reverse image, do a social media and google check and then insist they meet for coffee. If any of them fobbed her off, they’d be immediately struck off the list. But looking for a life partner was going to take time and, according to the graph she’d looked at earlier, her biological clock was fast ticking down to an inevitable end point. If she wanted a baby, just focusing on meeting someone wasn’t enough—she needed to buy some time. She decided to make an appointment with a doctor and discuss freezing her eggs.
Dan put down the pen. “I think we’ve covered everything.”
Alice considered Dan. If their arrangement survived their first attempt at sex—and they were both clear it would only ever be about sex—and if it continued as a pleasant way to pass the long winter months, there was one more thing that needed to be crystal clear.
“Not quite.” Alice tapped the napkin. “Write this down. The moment we start dating someone, we stop being friends with benefits.”
“The moment?”
“Yes, the moment.” Alice got a sharp pain thinking about Libby. “I refuse to unwittingly cause another woman pain. And if I find out that you’re seeing someone and still sleeping with me, your tackle will be in grave danger from my very blunt palette knife.”
Dan instinctively crossed his legs. “Noted.”
“Good.”
Alice had never been particularly forward when it came to sex, but perhaps Dan had a point—there was nothing at stake here, nothing to complicate things. She picked up the napkin and folded it in half before shoving it into her pocket. Then she pushed the raffle ticket book in front of Dan.
“Buy the meat raffle tickets and we have a deal.”
“Excellent.” Dan took out his wallet. “When do you finish?”
“In five minutes.”
“Any chance you’re free for dinner?”
“You know, I’m not that hungry for food. Are you?”
“I like the way you think, Alice.”
His smile was long and slow—pure seduction— and she gave herself over to its delicious effects. A dart of desire made her press her legs together and she laughed. This idea might just work.
Chapter Twelve
May
Libby saw Florence Jeffers out, but instead of calling in her next patient, she popped back into her office and punched in the now familiar numbers. With each ring, her heart beat faster, pumping adrenaline to all points.
“Hi, you’ve called Nick Pirelli.” The recording of her husband’s deep and friendly voice came down the line. “Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message or call Pirellis’ Boat Hire and Fishing on …”
At breakfast, Nick had told her that apart from lunch with his parents, he’d be in the office all day. It was 10:40—far too early for lunch. She disconnected the call and called the office. “Hi, Missy.”
“Hi, Libby.”
Before the apocalypse, if Libby ever had a reason to the boat office, the backpacker had always said, “How can I help?” Now Libby phones six times a day, Missy just said, “I’ll put you through to Nick.”
The breath Libby had been holding released a little. The phone rang a couple of times, then her husband picked up.
“Hi.” The greeting was imbued with caution—so much of Nick’s conversations were these days.
“Hi. You’re at the office.”
“Yes. I said I’d be here all day except for lunch and the coffee run.”
“You didn’t mention the coffee run.”
His sharp intake of breath whistled down the line. “Surely, I don’t have to tell you that? I’ve been doing the coffee run on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays for years.”
Yes, but that was when I trusted you implicitly—before you did something so hurtful it changed everything. Before you turned me from a stable, functioning woman into the doubting and suspicious one I hardly recognize.
“Where were you two minutes ago?”
“What?”
“You didn’t answer your cell.”
“Jesus, Libby. I was taking a piss after drinking the coffee. Why don’t you just attach a camera to me and be done with it.”
Her anger, constantly simmering just under the surface these days, flared. “Don’t you dare try and pin this on me. You brought it all down on yourself. If you want a hope in hell of me ever trusting you again, then this is part of it.”
For a moment Nick was silent. Then he sighed. “Libby, I haven’t met her. I haven’t spoken to her, texted or emailed her. I’ve had no contact with her since I told you about Leo. You know it’s the truth, because you’ve read her email sprays that include both of us. And none of your spies—”
“I don’t have spies!”
“Yes, you do! I see them in the street, at the school gate, the pub, everywhere. They look at me and scope out who I’m talking to.”
“I have friends who have my back.”
He grunted. “And none of them have reported anything back to you, have they, because there’s nothing to report. But despite all that, you’re still checking up on me half-a-dozen times a day. I hate living like this. It’s
