Page 15 of The Facilitator, Part 2

“You’re deep in thought,” Mackenzie said, bringing me back to the present.

“I’m just thinking whether I have the right to warn Jerry about Addison. He’s a grown man.”

“Would he do the same to you? If he saw you making an obvious mistake, would he be that friend who would sit you down and voice his concerns?”

I wasn’t actually sure. Jerry was Jerry, he could be insensitive and selfish; he always sided with me where Scott was concerned. However, he had wanted to date, or just fuck, me himself. I played safe, went for the option I’d hoped for.

“Of course he would. I’ll tell him I support whatever decisions he makes, but he really needs to take care where she is concerned and see how the conversation flows from there.”

“I’m more than happy to tell him what he needs to be concerned about,” Mackenzie said.

“And he won’t believe you. She’s your ex-wife, don’t doubt for one minute the first thing he will do is try to warn me off you,” I said, with a laugh.

Mackenzie shrugged his shoulders in agreement. “I guess so. To be honest, she can’t do us any harm. She’ll try, and my concern is for you over Jerry every day of the week. I don’t want you dragged into something he is too weak to see his way out of.”

We arrived home and the lights alongside the driveway lit the way back to the garages. Even in idle, the rumble of the car’s engine bouncing off the garage walls was impressive. I guessed Mackenzie thought so, too, as he revved the engine for no reason other than to enjoy the sound.

“Boys’ toys,” I said, as I opened the door to climb out.

“You’re the only toy I need,” he replied, ever the charmer. If it were at all possible to roll eyeballs, I would have.

Call it female intuition, or heightened senses, or spatial awareness—if that was even a thing—but something felt off when I walked through the door.

“Has Gabriella been here today?” I asked. I sniffed the air.

“No, she doesn’t come and go when she feels like it. She might be my best friend, but this is my house,” he replied, walking ahead and into the kitchen.

“Does she have a key?”

“Yes, she’s been here when I’ve been away, she’s stayed overnight in the past, why?”

“I can smell perfume.”

“It’s probably your own, or one of those bloody Plug-In things Kerry likes when she does the cleaning.”

I heard the rattle of the cupboard, pots and pans, metal clanking on metal and the swish as the fridge door opened.

“Steak good for you?” he shouted.

“Sure, thank you.” I slipped off my Converse and walked around the hall.

The scent was stronger by the front door.

It was fainter elsewhere. I scanned along the base of the wall looking for plug sockets.

I couldn’t see any Plug-In air fresheners anywhere.

The more I sniffed, the less I could smell it.

I knew it wasn’t my own perfume; I rarely wore any.

Mackenzie didn’t like the ‘taste’ of it, so he’d tell me when he kissed my neck. I shook my head. I was being daft.

I joined him in the kitchen and was allowed to slice some mushrooms. Mackenzie was preparing a steak with a creamy mushroom sauce and chunky chips. My mouth watered at the thought.

“Did you teach yourself to cook?” I asked.

“No, my mom did. I know it sounds strange, but she was a big believer in teaching me independence. I can even make a bed with hospital corners on the bottom sheet if I have to.” The level of pride in his voice made me laugh.

“Can you iron?” I asked, washing the chopping knife in the sink.

“Isn’t preparing you a gourmet meal, knowing the difference between a cheap or decent wine, making beds, enough? Iron! No, who the fuck ever needs to know how to iron?” he said, laughing as he worked.

He took an already opened bottle of red wine from the counter, a bottle we’d sampled the night before, I believed, and poured two glasses.

He slid one over to me as he took a seat at the breakfast bar.

The meat was under the grill and the sauce was simmering on the hob.

There was a dish of vegetables in the steamer, waiting for him to press a button.

“My mom had this thing that I was never to be reliant on anyone for anything. My dad, too, I guess, although he was always too busy with the factory. She came from a poor family.”

I raised my glass. “Then I toast the fact you’re a self-made man, it means so much more than to be handed it all on a plate.”

“It also means I fight harder to keep it, because I know the blood, sweat, and tears it took to get it.” He clinked his glass against mine.

He checked his watch and then the food. He started the steamer, and while he waited, he rested the meat on a wooden board.

A couple of minutes later, we were side by side eating.

Jerry didn’t call the following day; I sat in my office with my mobile by my side, and carried it with me whenever I had to leave.

I sent him a text asking him to let me know what day he’d be free for lunch.

I thought—if he were so in love—I wouldn’t get an evening with him.

As the day wore on, and as the evening came to a close, my frustration level rose.

I didn't hear from Jerry the following day either. In fact, it was midweek before he graced me with his presence.

I was sitting at my desk when the largest bunch of lilies appeared at the door. I didn’t need to look to know they were lilies. I was allergic and the onslaught of sneezing was all I needed to know what was within a few feet of me.

“Oh, babe, I forgot,” I heard. Jerry’s head appeared around them.

I held one hand over my nose and waved him out.

“Get rid of them,” I said, although muffled I was sure he understood.

Already my eyes had started to water and swell. In approximately ten minutes, I’d look like I’d spent hours and hours sobbing.

“Here, for you, from my heart,” he said, handing them to a passing woman. He held his hand over his heart and gave her a wide smile. She flustered, coloured, and then rushed off with them.

“I am so sorry,” he said dramatically, as he took the seat opposite me.

“Don’t apologise for giving me flowers you would have long forgotten I was allergic to, since you’ve never given me flowers anyway. Apologise for standing me up, leaving me in a bar feeling very uncomfortable, and then not answering my calls or text messages. Then promising to ring and not…again.”

“My darling, Lauren. I. Am. So. So. Sorry.” He got down on one knee and held out one arm as if reciting Hamlet .

“Sincerely,” I said.

“Oh, fuck off.” He laughed as he winced when rising and then sitting back in the chair.

I laughed along with him.

“I have so much gossip, except it’s not really gossip. Have you got time for lunch?”

I didn’t but I was sure going to make the time. I shut the lid of my laptop, I’d catch up with work later if I had to, and stood. I grabbed my bag and as we left, I instructed Carolyn she could get me on the mobile if she needed me.

Arm in arm we walked through Canary Wharf to one of the many restaurants slotted among and under the financial sector tower blocks.

“So where have you been?” I asked, as we walked.

“I took Mum down to Cornwall for a couple of weeks. I thought I told you I was doing that. I meant to call in to see your mum but I didn’t get the bloody address,” he said, rambling a little fast.

I could have replied that he had a phone, they worked in Cornwall, he could have called, but I guessed I knew he hadn’t thought, really.

“I bet she loved that,” I said, as we pushed through the restaurant door and waited.

“Oh she did. She mostly wanted to just sit wrapped up by the sea. I don’t know, Lauren, I think she might be on her way out. She’s all…nostalgic would be a good word.”

“Jerry, she’s getting on, they all do that,” I said, waving at a passing waiter who would have carried on past ignoring us. “I’m sorry if you’re busy, but do we wait to be seated?” I asked him. He grunted a reply.

We continued to stand until another came over and showed us to a table.

Jerry told me all about Cornwall, all about a new flat he was looking at, and he had decided he might buy some property instead of topping up his pension.

I told him I thought that wise, especially in the current economic climate.

It was like I was sitting with a distant friend who I only caught up with once or twice a year, and I wondered when he had become that.

He seemed to be avoiding the very thing that had been the excitement of his phone call.

Drink orders were taken and menus were placed in front of us.

I chose a chicken Caesar salad, not really having an appetite, while Jerry chose a burger.

My glass of soda and his glass of lager were placed on the table and for a moment, he stopped the rambling to take a sip.

That gave me a chance to ask the burning question.

“So you’ve rambled on about everything the past twenty minutes. Who are you in love with?” I asked.

He sighed. “I don’t know how well you’re going to take this. But I have to tell you, she isn’t anything like you’d imagine, and I haven’t known her long but…well, you knew you were in love early enough as well.”

On the defence already, he believes I’m not going to be happy, and I wonder why , I thought.

“Who, Jerry?” I kept the smile on my face.

“Addison Miller.”

So she’d kept Mackenzie’s name. The green-eyed devil stirred in my stomach.

“She’s in America, isn’t she?” I didn’t want him to think we cared enough about her to know where she was.

“She’s been over here for a couple of weeks.”

“So you fell in love, when?”

“Oh, she’s been back and forth for a couple of months. I’ve even been out to stay with her. Her dad is lovely, Lauren, he’s really not what you think he’s going to be.”

“Jerry, I don’t know what you mean. I’ve met her once; I don’t have an opinion on what her family would be like. I’m thrilled for you, if you think she is the one, then that’s amazing,” I said.