I Owe You One: A Novel(43)

And I brought it about. Me, Fixie.

“Yeah, well, they loved me at the interview.…” he’s saying. “And of course I slipped them a tenner.…”

Jake’s friends laugh, and I smile into my drink. I’m about to suggest to Leila that we go up and join the boys, when my phone buzzes. I get it out of my bag, planning to turn it off—but it’s Mum calling. Mum!

“Hey, Mum!” I say into my phone. “Hang on a minute, I can’t talk in here.…” As I rise to my feet, I gesture to Leila that I’m popping outside, and she nods easily.

I haven’t spoken to Mum once since she left. She texted when she arrived, to let us know she was safe, but I haven’t actually heard her voice. And as I hurry through the bar to the lobby, I realize I’m longing to talk to her.

“Mum!” I exclaim, as soon as I can talk. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, Fixie.” Her familiar tones flow into my ear. “It’s lovely! I wish you were here!”

She says it with no irony at all. She’s never done holidays, Mum. She probably doesn’t even know that that’s the clichéd phrase.

“Are you having a good time, then?” I say, smiling, wishing I could see her face.

“It’s so warm!” she exclaims in astonishment, as though she was expecting the south of Spain to be a bit nippy. “We’re right by the beach. I’ve been swimming every day. Good thing I bought that swimsuit. And the food’s lovely—we’re eating lots of seafood, although Karen does always order too much sangria.…”

As she talks on, I lean against a wall, imagining her plunging into the Mediterranean and soaking up the sun and drinking sangria with her sister. I’m thinking, This is what she should have done years ago.

“… and how’s the shop going?”

Mum’s words bring me back to the present with a guilty twinge. I haven’t really been focusing on the shop. I’ve been focusing on Ryan.

“It’s fine!” I say automatically. “All good!”

“Ned sent me an email. He said you’re having your first meeting tomorrow?”

“That’s right.”

“And everything’s going OK with Jake and Nicole?”

It crosses my mind to tell her about Nicole’s yoga plans—but no. It would worry her. I’ll sort it myself.

“Everything’s fine,” I say reassuringly. “Couldn’t be better!”

We talk for a bit longer, then Mum says she’d better go and I head back to the bar, biting my lip. Now that Ryan’s future is sorted, I need to give some attention to the shop.

Ryan’s still holding court at the bar and doesn’t notice me at first. I wait until there’s a lull in the conversation and then tap him on the arm.

“Oh, hi!” he exclaims, turning toward me. “Come and meet these guys.”

“No, actually, if you don’t mind, I’m going to slip away,” I add apologetically. “It’s the first big family meeting about the shop tomorrow. I want to prepare some stuff.”

“Oh, OK,” says Ryan, nodding. “Fair enough.”

“See you later, then.” I squeeze his arm. “Have fun!”

“Later?” He stares at me blankly. “What do you mean, later?”

“Well … I thought you’d be coming back to mine?” I say, equally blankly.

“Fixie.” Ryan exhales with an astonished laugh. “Fixie, Fixie. What are you saying, that we should move in together?”

For a moment I can’t speak. His words won’t compute in my brain. Is he joking? Of course I think we should move in together. We were just talking about moving in together. But now he’s sounding incredulous.

As I stare at him dumbly, wondering if I misheard, Ryan sighs and pulls me aside, away from the group.

“This is great, you and me,” he says gently, pointing from his chest to mine and back again. “It’s lovely. But moving in together would be the worst thing we could do. We need to take things slowly. Step by step.”

Words are scrambling in my brain. Nothing makes sense.

“But your text,” I say stupidly.

“My text?”

“About the future! Just now! I asked you and you said—” I fumble for my phone so I can read out the words exactly. “You said, Totally. Awesome. Let’s make it happen. Soon!”

“Well, yeah.” He laughs. “I do want to be boss soon.”

Boss?

Boss?

Oh my God. I’m frozen in utter dismay as realization hits. He was replying to that text?

“Right, but my other text?” I manage, trying to sound light. “What did you … ? I mean, did you think … ?”

“What other text?” He looks puzzled. “The last text I got from you was about being the boss. Why, what did you say?”

He didn’t get my text? All of my blissful happiness is based on a misunderstanding?

“What did you say?” asks Ryan again, and my stomach lurches in horror. He cannot know what I said.

“Nothing!” My voice finally bursts out in a desperate squeak. “No. I didn’t say anything. Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

My head is boiling. I think I want to die.