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‘See, that’s what I want more of. A little spunk!’

‘Fuck off!’ I yell, shocking myself with my vulgar language.

‘Ooh, yes, carry on, you filthy-mouthed bitch!’

I gasp and swing around, finding him grinning from ear to ear. ‘Wanker.’

‘Cow.’

‘Tosser.’

He grins some more. ‘Dog.’

‘Shirt-lifter,’ I retort.

‘Tart.’

I recoil, horrified. ‘I am not a tart!’

He pales instantly, realising his mistake. ‘Shit, Livy, I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t bother!’ I storm off, my blood boiling with rage at his insensitive, careless remark. ‘And don’t follow me, Gregory!’

‘Ahhhh, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.’ He scoops me up, preventing me from running away. ‘A stupid word slipped.’ He walks on with me draped across his arms, and I reach up and pull his hair. ‘Twat.’

Grinning, he leans down and kisses my cheek. ‘I had a date last Sunday.’

‘Another?’ I roll my eyes and firm up my grip of his shoulders. ‘Who’s the lucky guy this time?’

‘Actually, it was our fourth date. His name’s Ben.’ A thoughtful, dreamy look washes over Gregory’s face, making me pay more attention. It’s been a few years since he’s had this look.

‘And . . .’ I push, wondering how he managed to keep four dates with the same man quiet. I can’t challenge him on it, though. Not after my lack of sharing.

‘He’s cute. I might like you to meet him.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. He’s a freelance events planner. I’ve told him all about you, and he’d like to meet you.’

‘Oh?’ I tilt my head, and he gives me a shy smile. ‘Ohhhh . . .’ I breathe.

‘Yes, ohhhhh.’

‘Benjamin?’

‘Nooo.’ He narrows playful eyes, continuing with his even strides down the street with me still bobbing up and down in his arms. ‘Just Ben will do.’

‘Benjamin and Gregory,’ I muse thoughtfully. ‘It has a nice ring to it.’

‘Ben and Greg sounds much better. Why do you insist on calling me Gregory? Even Nan does it. It makes me sound like a poofter,’ he grumbles.

‘You are a poofter!’ I laugh, getting a set of teeth sunk into my neck for my trouble. ‘Stop it!’

‘Come on.’ He sets me on my feet and links arms with me. ‘Let’s get your sweet arse to work.’

‘Aren’t you working today?’

‘Nope. I finished my recent project early, and I have a haircut.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I grin up at him. ‘A whole day off work for a haircut?’

‘Shut up. I told you. I finished my project early.’

I smile, wondering why I’ve alienated myself from my treasured Gregory all week. I feel a million times better already.

Chapter 14

No one at work actually asks me if I’m all right because it’s obvious that I am. Or are they just stunned into silence by my chirpiness? Am I being over the top? I don’t even care. Gregory has lifted my spirits. I should’ve seen him earlier in the week.

‘Service!’ Paul yells, prompting me to skip over with my tray, ready to be loaded up. ‘What are you all smiley about?’ he laughs, sliding a Tuna Crunch onto my tray.

Sylvie dumps a load of empties nearby and joins us by the hotplates. ‘Don’t question it, Paul. Just embrace it.’

‘It’s Friday.’ I shrug, twirling and sashaying out of the kitchen with a smile on my face. As I approach the table, I’m confronted with a huge beam, courtesy of Mr Wide-Eyed Luke. My good mood prevents me from being anything but polite, and I find myself smiling back at him. ‘Tuna Crunch?’

‘That’s me,’ he pipes up as I slide it onto the table. ‘You look especially lovely today.’

I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. ‘Thank you. Can I get you another drink?’

‘No, I’m good.’ He sits back in his chair, his warm brown eyes friendly as they regard me. ‘I’m still after a date.’

‘You are?’ I feel myself blush a little and in an attempt to hide it, I start clearing the next table.

‘Can I take you out?’

I’m wiping the table furiously, my hand rotating just as fast as my mind. ‘Yes.’ The word falls from my mouth without me realising, until I hear it with my own ears.

‘Really?’ He sounds as shocked as I feel.

The table is spotless, but it doesn’t stop me from rubbing the cloth over the wood some more. Did I really just accept a date? ‘Sure,’ I confirm, shocking myself further.

‘Great!’

I try to cool down my burning cheeks before I turn to face my . . . date. He’s really smiling now, and he’s scribbling down his number on a napkin. It draws an unwanted memory, which I quickly toss to the back of my mind. I can go on a date with Luke. Actually, I need to go on a date with Luke. ‘When were you thinking?’

‘Tonight?’ He looks up at me hopefully, handing me the napkin.

I take it, pushing my doubts away. I can’t go on like I have, even more so after my encounters with Miller Hart. I need to start living, forget about him, my mother, and start living . . . sensibly. ‘Tonight,’ I confirm. ‘Time, place?’

‘Eight outside Selfridges? There’s a little bar down the side street. You’ll love it.’

‘Great. I look forward to it.’ I collect my tray and leave Luke smiling around the first bite of his Tuna Crunch.