I Owe You One: A Novel(44)

“I mean, you do get my point?” says Ryan kindly. “We’ve only been together for, like, five minutes. It would be ridiculous to move in together.”

“God yes! Ridiculous!” I emit a shrill, fake laugh. “Believe me, moving in together is the last thing I want. The last. Although you did say you wished I’d come back with you to L.A.,” I add, before I can stop myself.

Ryan looks utterly astonished.

“Fixie, L.A. is—” He breaks off as though he can’t even find a word for what L.A. is. “Look, Fixie.” He faces me, straight on. “I want to take us seriously. Seriously.”

“So do I!” I say, feeling totally confused.

“So we take it little by little, yeah?” He squints at his phone. “Hang on. Some texts are coming in now. Are they the ones you sent before?”

No. Nooo. They’re arriving now?

“Don’t read those!” My voice shoots up still higher in panic. “They’re nothing! I was just randomly chatting … It was boring … Actually, why don’t I delete them?”

My heart thumping, I grab Ryan’s phone out of his hand. Ignoring his startled look, I start frantically pressing DELETE. I’m cringing as I read my own words:

Where are you going to live now that you have a job? Because …

Deleted.

Ryan, this is the beginning of something amazing …

Deleted.

A whole new life. You and me.

Deleted.

I’m so happy!!!!

Deleted.

And all the emojis: Deleted. All gone.

As I hand Ryan his phone back, I smile as brightly as I can—but inside I’m kind of crushed. I mean, he’s right. Of course he’s right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Long term, it’s more sensible to take things slowly.

It’s just …

I mean, you can’t help wishing for things, can you?

“So, I’ll see you … sometime!” I force myself to sound light and casual, as if I don’t mind when I see him at all. As if it’s no big deal. As if perhaps we won’t even bother to see each other at all.

“I’ll text you,” says Ryan. “We’ll get together soon. And thanks for today, babe.”

He kisses me lightly, and I hesitate, suddenly desperate to stay. But I’ve already said I’m leaving and it would seem uncool to change my mind. I pick up my flowers, and as I walk out of the bar, I decide I will find five positive things about the situation.

1. He still wants to be with me.

2. He didn’t see my mortifying texts.

3. He bought me flowers.

4.

5.

Well, anyway. Three is plenty. Plenty.





Eleven




Uncle Ned has booked a table at a restaurant for our meeting. It’s a place called Rules, in Covent Garden, all red plush and dark wood and food like oysters and venison. As I read the menu, I can’t help gasping inwardly at the prices.

“Wow,” I say. “This is quite … grand. We normally have meetings at the shop and Mum brings sandwiches.”

“Your mother likes to play things down,” says Uncle Ned kindly. “It’s her little affectation. But what I say is: If you mean business, then mean business.” He lifts his gin and tonic in a toasting gesture.

“Right,” I say, after a pause, because I don’t want to start the evening off by arguing. But I don’t get it at all. Why have we come to some luxury restaurant just to talk about the shop? My motto would be: If you mean business, then spend your money on the business, not on expensive meals.

Jake and Nicole seem happy enough, though, ordering paté and even lobster. When we’ve all ordered, Uncle Ned clears his throat in a grandiose way and says, “Before we begin on this little joint endeavor, please be assured, I am merely here to facilitate. Facilitate, d’you see?” He looks around with slightly bloodshot eyes. “You won’t want to listen to an old buffer like me. That’s understood. I’m simply here to make sure you don’t run the ship aground. Oh, the Chablis, I think,” he adds to the wine waiter, then turns to Jake. “By the way, I take it you have a company credit card on you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Jake at once. “I’ll sort it out. All on the company.”

“Good lad,” says Uncle Ned, taking a gulp of his gin and tonic. “Good lad. Now, as I say, I’m here to help. To listen. To advise.”

To drink gin at our expense, I think, but then immediately feel bad. Mum trusts Uncle Ned, so I should really try to as well. He negotiated the lease, I remind myself. He must have a good business head. Be open-minded.

“Right, well, why don’t I start?” says Jake briskly. “I have a lot of ideas for the shop.”

“I have a lot of ideas too,” chimes in Nicole at once. “Loads.”

“I mean, it can’t stay as it is,” adds Jake.

“Definitely not,” affirms Nicole.

I look at them both, disconcerted. Does the shop need changing that much? It’s a healthy business. Mum left us in charge to run it, not to transform it.

“I don’t have that many ideas,” I say. “I mean, I have a few.”

“Well, let’s listen to your few, Fixie,” says Uncle Ned in generous tones. “Get those out of the way, as it were.”