Page 52 of Forever, Maybe
“You’ve got your keys, right?” Stephanie asked, her words slightly loosened by the vodka tonics. For a moment, she seemed to forget that no one else at White Lightning Communications knew about Nell’s temporary living situation.
Nell nodded quickly, hoping Jamie hadn’t caught on.
She’d been crashing at Stephanie’s for the past nine days, sleeping on a camp bed in the living room.
It wasn’t ideal—far from it—but she felt stuck, unable to decide her next move.
She knew she had to talk to Danny eventually, but the thought made her chest tighten.
Their fight about children, combined with his failure to prioritise her exhibition over his work, still stung too much.
“Enjoy your night,” Nell called after Stephanie as she left. Jamie echoed the sentiment, his tone light.
The pub door slammed shut behind Stephanie, and the moment she was gone, Jamie turned to Nell, grasping her hand.
“Why are you staying with Stephanie?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she scrambled for a lie.
“It’s just for tonight,” she said, too fast, too high-pitched. “Danny’s away and I’m... not great at being on my own.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Haven’t you had plenty of practice? Danny leaves you on your own all the time.”
Damn it. Those car rides. He always asked about Danny—what he was doing, where he was. His hand tightened slightly around hers. He turned it over, deliberately inspecting the eighteen-carat white gold band on her finger.
“He doesn’t,” she protested, weakly.
His gaze met hers, sharp and knowing. “Have you left him?”
Her throat tightened. Tears prickled, threatening to spill. Any second now and she’d unravel—completely, hopelessly—and she’d never live it down. She yanked her hand free. “None of your bee’s wax, matey,” she muttered, voice wobbling.
Jamie leant back, giving her space but not dropping his gaze. His scrutiny didn’t feel intrusive this time—instead softer and almost sympathetic.
He took a long pull from his beer before speaking. “Promise me you’re not about to abandon me here as well, will you, dear Nell?”
The shift in tone was masterful, and her tears retreated instantly, replaced by a reluctant smile. “Fine,” she said, playing along. “I’ll keep you company. Lucky for you, I’m feeling charitable.”
“Excellent,” Jamie replied, still holding her hand, though his grip was looser now, more casual. He cast a theatrical glance around the room, his expression pained. “Because leaving me here alone with these morons would be downright cruel.”
“Behave yourself!” she chided, though her tone held no real reprimand.
Jamie smirked and launched into a series of scurrilous stories about their colleagues, his wit as sharp as ever.
He didn’t hold back, peppering his anecdotes with just enough exaggeration to keep her laughing.
Then came the indiscreet revelations about Marcus—juicy titbits that painted a vivid picture of a man both pompous and insufferable.
It was clear Jamie held no love for their boss.
For all his outward appearances as Marcus’s stooge, he’d been biting his tongue for years.
He revealed he had broken the news of his resignation to Marcus the day before, which, Nell realised, half-accounted for their boss’s thunderous mood in the lead-up to this morning’s pitch.
As the stories unfolded, Nell felt the knot in her chest begin to loosen. Jamie might be infuriating at times, but tonight, he was the perfect distraction.
Her head swam, and Jamie’s face blurred in front of her. She raised a hand to steady herself, her fingers landing on the curve of his cheek.
“Oof, I’ve had way too much to drink. I need to use the ladies.”
The Joker’s toilets were their usual state of disrepair: partitioned off with flimsy whiteboard cubicles and featuring at least one blocked toilet.
Nell leaned over the sink and peered at her reflection in the cloudy mirror.
Her cheeks were flushed, a delicate pink that made her look more alive than usual.
Fishing into her handbag, she retrieved a compact and mascara, dusting her face with powder and adding a touch of definition to her lashes.
Then came the familiar spritz of CK One, her signature androgynous scent since her university days.
She blew a kiss at her reflection, her lips curving into a wry smile.
“Flirting, Nell? You saucy minx,” she muttered, her reflection smirking back.
Back in the pub, the crowd from White Lightning Communications had thinned out.
Marcus’s kitty had run dry, and most of the team had vanished, unwilling to part with their own cash for colleagues.
Jamie remained, now flanked by John and Abigail, two of the company’s other designers.
He was mid-story, gesturing animatedly as he poured more Cava into their glasses.
Nell froze in the doorway, narrowing her eyes. Was he telling tales about her? Jamie’s charm was undeniable but trusting him was another matter entirely.
“Nell, dear lady!” he called out as soon as he spotted her. His voice boomed across the room, and she cringed. “We’ve hit upon a brilliant idea. I propose we depart this charming establishment and make our way, forthwith, to an eatery. What say you?”
His dramatic delivery turned heads, including the landlord’s, who was glaring daggers at Jamie. The Joker sold food, after all.
Oblivious, Jamie stood and grabbed John and Abigail by the hands, pulling them along as he strode toward Nell.
Outside, the fresh air hit like a brick wall, jolting the lot of them into sobriety. John and Abigail exchanged sheepish glances before muttering excuses about early mornings and heading off.
“Good riddance!” Jamie declared as he watched them retreat. “That was the right outcome, was it not, dear lady?”
He turned to Nell with a wolfish grin, his eyes bright and glittering as they locked onto hers.
“Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm with a flourish.
She took it, grateful for the support—her legs felt decidedly unsteady from all the Cava.
Jamie steered them toward the Italian restaurant a few doors down, effortlessly brushing aside Nell’s half-hearted protests.
“I’m not even that hungry,” she began, “and I don’t have enough—”
“On me, sweet Nell!” he interrupted, grinning. “I’m about to be rich.”
There was no arguing with Jamie when he was in this mood, and Nell wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to.
The moment she stepped inside Bella Momma, Nell regretted it.
The restaurant was suffocatingly warm, the air thick with the overpowering smell of Parmesan and garlic.
Small tables were crammed together, barely leaving space to move, and the noise was a cacophony of chatter from couples and family groups, drowning out the tinny Italian muzak playing overhead.
A frazzled waiter bustled over, informing them it would be at least half an hour before a table was available. He pointed toward three battered chairs near the front and offered to bring them drinks while they waited.
Nell shook her head quickly. “I can’t drink anything else.”
“Nonsense,” Jamie interrupted, ordering a bottle of red wine before she could object further.
When the wine arrived, Jamie raised his glass, smiling broadly. “To the loveliest employee at White Lightning Communications. Cheers, dear Nell!”
She wrinkled her nose, took a tentative sip, and set her glass on the nearby window ledge. “Smoothie,” she said.
“Tis true! You are a shining beacon among employees,” Jamie insisted, topping up his glass. “In fact, if a designer vacancy opens up at my new place, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Nell raised an eyebrow. “Don’t they have to follow proper processes for public sector jobs?”
He waved dismissively, flicking his hand upward. “Pah! We’ll see.”
He drained his glass and reached for the bottle. “Another?”
Nell shook her head firmly. “Actually, I’m boiling in here. I don’t want to wait half an hour. Can we go?”
“Of course,” Jamie said easily. He stood, handed the bartender some money, and corked the wine. They stepped outside, and Nell immediately tipped her head back, breathing in the cool night air. She pulled her neckline forward, letting the breeze hit her overheated skin.
Beside her, Jamie held the bottle in one hand and grabbed her hand with the other. His grip was smaller than Danny’s but firm, his hand cool and dry against hers.
“I have keys to the office,” he announced suddenly. His tone shifted, the theatrical bravado slipping away. His expression grew earnest, even anxious, as he studied her face. Gone was the wolfish grin. Now he looked… vulnerable.
Nell’s mind raced. She’d sobered up, but a wild recklessness thrummed through her veins. If she said yes, was it inevitable where this would lead? It didn’t have to be. They could go to the office, sit, and… drink tea.
“Okay,” she said at last, her voice quieter than she expected. “But we mustn’t…” She trailed off, watching him nod earnestly, reassuring her with his sincerity.
“No, nothing like that,” he said quickly. “I’m just not in the mood to go home yet. Let’s finish the wine somewhere more comfortable. Or I can grab you a cold soft drink if you prefer?”
Nell hesitated for a moment longer before giving him a small smile. “Let’s just see where the night takes us,” she said, her voice steadier now.
Jamie smiled, relief softening his features, and together they started walking, the bottle of wine swinging lazily in his hand.
At the main building, he swiped his key fob and held the door open for her. The place wasn’t entirely deserted—it housed a 24-hour call centre—but the corridors were quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy, alive with the faint hum of fluorescent lights.
As they made their way through the building, Jamie paused at several keypads, punching in codes with the ease of someone who’d done it countless times. They wound through a maze of hallways and staircases, finally emerging on the second floor.