Page 9

Our conversation slows when the waiter brings out steaming dishes of pasta for us all. I’m happy to see both women eating big bowls of food. Pixie’s dizzy spell earlier worried me. I’d been frustrated at myself and Saff for not checking she was adequately prepared for our session. But these things happen, I guess. And she’s digging in now.

I make a start on my linguine dish, breathing in the aroma of basil as I chew the morsels of chicken threaded through it.

“What do you do?” Pixie asks. I lift a brow. I respect her privacy, but it’s interesting that she wants to know more about us. She notices my pause. “Sorry, that was nosy. You don’t have to reply.”

“He works too bloody hard,” Saff interjects with a huff. I cast her a side eye.Not the time, Saff.

“It’s okay. It’s just a complicated answer.” I tell Pixie. “I’m actually between projects at the moment. My last one finished up a while back, and I’m taking a break before I do something else. Might be time for a change of scenery.” I blow out a breath. That wasn’t too hard, was it? I don’t have to go into the details of how life has thrown me plenty of curveballs lately, and I’vebeen feeling like I’ve lost my way. That a failed work project I’d poured my heart and soul into and losing Gran has me questioning everything.

And just like that, the swell of grief rises from my gut, threatening to drown me. It moves swiftly to my chest, clawing at my heart. I take a gulp of the water I’d thankfully stuck with for the meal. Both ladies had chosen non-alcoholic drinks, so I decided to join them. I’ve noticed lately that it’s all too easy to have a couple of drinks to loosen up and forget. And that’s not a path I want to continue down.

Saff reaches across and grips my hand, giving me a sad smile. There’s nothing she can say that will make it any better. But I appreciate the gesture of support and her attempt today to have some fun, something other than me wallowing in a pit of grief and uncertainty.

“This is delicious.” I look across to see Pixie closing her eyes as she savours her ragu, which is smothered with parmesan cheese. She’s exquisite. I hope she’ll agree to another round after dinner so I get to see the pleasure on her face this time and not just taste it on my tongue. Her eyes open, and she looks straight at me with an encouraging smile. Grateful for her change in subject, I try to keep the conversation flowing.

“So you do this kinda thing often?” Perhaps if I keep the questions hook-up related, she’ll open up.

“Fairly often,” she replies after chewing and swallowing her mouthful of pasta. “I consider myself polyamorous. I don’t do the dating or the monogamy thing–I don’t see the point in it, but I enjoy sex. Sometimes I use the hook-up app and do the unicorn thing, other times I go to play parties.” I want to prod at the monogamy statement, but my gut tells me she will clam up. Saff perks up at the mention of play parties.

“There’s some good parties up this way. That’s how Cam and I started playing. I wanted someone to go along with me, and he offered to come.”

“So you guys really aren’t together?” Pixie’s gaze flits between us. “You seem so in sync.”

“Just occasional fuck buddies. We’re friends more than anything else.” Saff flashes a smile at me.

“What are your preferences for play partners? If you don’t mind me asking. I know there were some listed in the app, but I think sometimes people get happy with the options and tick bloody everything.” Pixie’s silver-green eyes are full of curiosity. They’re so expressive, and I want to drown in them.

Saff answers first, “I’m good with he’s, she’s, and they’s. It’s more about the vibes for me than how someone identifies.” Pixie nods her agreement before she turns her attention to me.

I take a sip of my water as I contemplate my answer. “I’m bisexual and have experience with men and women, but I’m open to other possibilities.” Her soft smile is like a reward. I could happily sit here all night and get to know her better. “So, you head back down south tomorrow? What brought you up here?” I ask Pixie.

“I came with a friend. Her brother, he’s my friend too, just moved up here for six months. I’ve always wanted to visit, so I offered to travel up with her.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Tonight’s our third night. I would have loved to have spent longer or gone further up north. I’d love to visit the Highlands and especially Skye.”

“Cam’s from up that way,” Saff interjects. “He could give you a special tour.” She nudges me with her elbow. Always meddling, that one. She’s noticed I’m rather taken with this pixie.

“Bit late now, unfortunately. But if you’re ever going to be up this way again, perhaps you can reach out and we can arrange something?”

“That would be good. I can contact you via Saffy on the app?” she checks.

“I’ll give you my number. No pressure. I don’t need yours back,” I tell her. She glances downwards as she mulls it over.

“All right then, thank you,” she says with a hesitant nod.

A week later, I can’t help my eager anticipation when the vibrating buzz of my phone makes itself known in my pocket.Could this be her?

After our Italian meal, we headed back to my place and had another incredible round of debauchery. Pixie and Saff certainly made it a night to remember.

I’d been frustrated when she’d climbed from the cuddle pile not long after we’d all got our breath back, and started to dress. Saff tried to coax her to stay, but I could tell from the glint in her eye that she’d stubbornly decided that was that, and it was time to go.

I’d recited my number and watched as she typed it into her phone, just before she snuck out the door. My disappointment increased when she refused a lift to her hotel. I’d been so tempted to follow at a safe distance to check she was safe, but it felt like a step too far when she was already so cagey about her real identity.

I’d found myself skimming the local news for the next couple of days, checking for reports of a missing tourist or any attacks. Despite not finding any, unease still floats in my gut each day that I don’t hear from her.

I give myself an extra moment of hope before easing the phone out from the pocket of my jeans. A glance at the screen squashes that dream when it shows the name of my grandmother’s lawyer on the caller ID. I’ve had plenty to keep me busy, trying to sort out the estate. And in doing so, at least I feel helpful, taking some of the workload off my parents.