white animal print chairs, smooth round yellow tables with glass candle holders, parquet floors with tasteful but modern block multi-coloured blue, gold, red and white rugs laid down on it.
‘Here you are, Madam.’ The waiter gestured to a table, his body blocking Frankie’s view of the guest sat at it. For a moment, before he moved, she had an instant, crazy, confusing hope it might be Zack sat there.
‘Oh. Hi.’ She was disappointed to see Christian’s dark-haired sex godlikeness lounging in the chair, looking as cool and collected as ever. He always looked good, super slick and super cool. Tonight he was wearing a white, open necked shirt under a suit jacket. But slick and cool wasn’t always the preferable option. She was starting to realise she might like warm and quirky and nice instead.
‘Don’t look so pleased to see me.’ Christian stood up and came round the table, kissing her on the cheek.
She edged away slightly as his aftershave hit her, the same one he’d worn when they were together. It brought back memories of frustration and sadness, feeling low and uncontrollably angry. And then, bitterly disappointed. ‘Sorry, I’m just surprised, that’s all. I wasn’t sure it was you.’
He pulled her chair out for her and she sank into it with a murmured thanks. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ he asked, sitting down across from her. ‘And who else would be doing all this for you? Have you got a boyfriend or admirer I should know about?’
Surprise number two, he hadn’t pulled a chair out for her in a long time. It was like he’d started forgetting his manners the last year or so they’d been together. But maybe that was as much her fault as his. She should have called him on it.
The waiter appeared next to them, handing them white and gold embossed cocktail menus. Frankie took hers with a smile, noticing that Christian uncharacteristically did the same. ‘No admirer or boyfriend,’ she smiled coolly, ‘but I was told a young boy delivered the envelope to the dealership, and a woman booked the personal shopper at Harvey Nicks. The sizing of the dress was spot on too.’
‘I called in a few favours,’ he lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug, running a finger down the menu. ‘Let’s get a drink before we talk more.’
She bit her lip in annoyance but another minute of suspense wouldn’t kill her. ‘So,’ she leaned forward once they’d ordered their cocktails, a Red Fruits Manhattan for her and a New York Sour for him, ‘why am I here?’
‘You look stunning,’ he grabbed her hand, stroking her wrist, and she quivered. ‘Absolutely gorgeous.’
‘Thank you, the dress is beautiful, the shoes too.’ She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She extracted her hand subtly.
‘But you’re not wearing the earrings.’ He frowned.
‘I didn’t know what all this was, who they were from. They’re too expensive, I felt uncomfortable. Now stop avoiding the question Christian, why am I here? And why aren’t you in Bali?’
‘I’ve missed you. I didn’t want to go without you.’
‘And you’ve waited an entire year to tell me that? Even though you wouldn’t talk to me when I came to get my stuff? You couldn’t have got in touch before? You had to wait and do all this?’
‘I was hurt and shocked when you ended it. Flabbergasted, actually. But I’m telling you the truth, I have missed you.’ His clear blue eyes shone with sincerity.
‘That would probably be romantic,’ Frankie said drily. ‘If I didn’t think, sorry, know, that you’ve probably had a series of women parade through the apartment since I left. Don’t forget I knew all about your playboy reputation when we got together the first time,’ she reminded him.
He looked at her, opened his mouth then closed it. She stared back steadily ‘Come on, don’t try and pretend you’ve been pining away without me, living a celibate lifestyle.’
He flushed, cheekbones going dark red, ‘So I’ve dated. There have been other women-’
‘A few I’m guessing.’
‘But none like you,’ he insisted.
‘Oh, really?’ She sat back in her chair as the waiter brought green olives, nuts and mini crackers to the table in a silver and white snack holder, swiftly followed by their cocktails. She took a sip of the tangy, crisp Manhattan and set it back down. ‘How’s that then?’ she prompted him.
He put his cocktail down with a slight clink against the table. ‘They were all kind of…plastic. Not real, like you. You’ve got opinions and values and a good sense of humour.’
‘You found my opinions and values annoying when we were together. Sometimes you said I had too many.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. I was wrong,’ he reached for her hand, and she let him hold it while he apologised. ‘They agree with everything I say, everything I want. I thought it would be what I wanted, but it’s boring.’
‘You always picked women who were into vanity and society, until me,’ she pointed out, ‘if you’ve reverted to type, what else do you expect? To be honest I’m not sure I understand how we were together for three years. We’re so different.’ She lowered her voice, aware that a touristy-looking couple at the next table were trying to listen in. ‘It doesn’t make sense, and now that we’ve been apart-’
‘You’re wrong,’ he said anxiously, clasping her hand tighter, ‘And I’ve changed.’
‘Have you? Even so, you weren’t there for me when-’
‘We were good together.’ He whispered, ‘I treated you like a princess. I was there for three years. I messed up once-’
‘You bought me a lot.’ She conceded, seeing real pain reflected in his eyes. ‘You kept me safe and gave me a life of luxury. But I was a princess locked in a tower. I never saw my friends, barely went home to see my parents,’ she closed her eyes briefly, ‘something I’ve regretted ever since. It had all become about you, the dinners and parties. That was okay for a while. At the beginning it was fun, living that kind of life, but ultimately…even without what happened, I was starting to feel trapped. That’s why I went and got the job. You didn’t listen to me, barely engaged in conversation, talked about your day but never asked about mine.’
He lifted his hand from hers, ‘Most men are like that,’ he excused, ‘and maybe that was because all you really did was shop and lunch. How much was there to ask you about?’
‘You wanted it that way!’ she said furiously, forgetting where they were, throwing the rest of her cocktail back and then choking with the sting of alcohol. She cleared her throat. ‘You wanted me to be available and on call all the time, wanted me to look good and dress right. That’s why you didn’t like me getting a job.’ She took a calming breath, ‘Yes, you bought me things but you were never thoughtful,’ her mind settled on Zack driving her across town, and making her fresh coffee every day, and something in her stomach hitched, ‘you never made me a fresh coffee, or cooked for me.’
‘I didn’t need to. I have people to do that.’ He’d had specialist coffee delivered every morning by a high end catering company.
‘Yes, but you could have done it anyway, to show you cared.’
‘I do care,’ he insisted, ‘and I have changed. You can do whatever makes you happy.’
And perhaps he had changed. After all, the old Christian never would have organised a romantic scavenger hunt, never would have made the effort to put something so elaborate together, just for her.
‘Come back,’ he moved his chair closer, rested his arm against hers, stroking her cheekbone. Her pulse quickened. Oh, he was good. Sex had never been an issue, they’d always been compatible, she’d always found him attractive. He was a good looking guy.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, shifting away.
‘Come