This Could Change Everything(49)
Essie was working the following evening when Conor arrived, carrying his portfolio case.
‘I know it’s not Monday,’ he told Lucas, ‘but I thought I’d bring over your photo. It’s not as if it’s only going to be on show for a week, is it? Seeing as this is your place, you should keep it on permanent display.’
‘Hmm, not sure about that.’ Lucas sounded doubtful. ‘I’ll decide after I’ve had a look at it.’
Essie said, ‘Come on, let’s see! Does he look really ugly?’
‘Watch it,’ Lucas warned.
She grinned. ‘Are we allowed to laugh? I won’t, I promise. Probably.’
Lucas said, ‘If you laugh, you’re sacked.’
Conor unfastened the portfolio and took out the photo, already framed in its clear Perspex case. ‘Here you go. I’m pleased with it, anyway.’
Everyone else gathered around to look. Essie, hanging back, was glad all the attention was on the portrait, because the effect it was having on her was visceral. A burst of adrenalin had galvanised her heart and set it racing, purely because Lucas’s gaze, as captured by the camera, was so intense.
There he was, in his open-necked white cotton shirt and his narrow black trousers, casually perched on the stool with one elbow resting on the high table next to him. The portrait was in black and white too, carving shadows beneath his eyes and cheekbones as he sat with his head turned slightly to the left but his eyes looking directly into the camera lens. The very faintest of smiles lifted the corners of his mouth, and there was a spark of humour combined with impatience in those dark eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, as if he’d just shaken his head because someone had said something he couldn’t quite believe.
Next to Lucas, Jude said, ‘That’s the exact look you gave me during the Christmas quiz when the other team thought Pride and Prejudice had been written by Jane Eyre.’
‘Well I think it’s fantastic.’ Sharon, one of their unshy regulars, fanned herself and mimed being overcome with lust. ‘You look hot.’
‘I’m pleased with the composition,’ said Conor. ‘It works well.’
Lucas turned his head and Essie accidentally caught his eye. He raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you think? You haven’t said anything yet.’
Essie swallowed, because there was no way she could announce what she was really thinking. Instead, studying the portrait, she said, ‘The eyes follow you around the room. It’ll stop the bar staff trying to slip their friends free drinks.’
Lucas laughed. ‘In that case we’d better make sure we hang it up where everyone can see it from behind the bar.’
It was three o’clock in the morning and Lucas woke with a start, confused for a moment to find himself in a cool darkened room. In his dream he’d been strolling along a white sandy beach in blazing sunshine, watching as flying fish leapt out of the turquoise sea. In his right hand he was carrying a straw hat. His left arm was curled around Essie Phillips’ waist.
Right. Wake up properly now.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. OK, you couldn’t help who you dreamed about, but it was somewhat concerning that for the third time this week his dreams had featured Essie.
Even worse, it had happened while he was lying in bed next to his girlfriend, who, still fast asleep, had no idea he’d been dreaming about walking along a tropical beach with his arm around another girl.
Lucas tilted his head sideways and looked at Giselle for a moment. Then he slid silently out of bed, reached for his white towelling dressing gown and let himself out of the bedroom.
Downstairs, he switched on the lights in the bar, made himself a coffee and added a splash of cognac. From its position on the wall opposite the bar where Jude had earlier decided it should be hung, his portrait regarded him with what was beginning to feel like mocking amusement.
Shit, what was happening to him, and what was he meant to do about it? Life had been so much easier when Essie had still believed him to be the idiot who’d sent the round robin and ruined her life. He almost wished her brother hadn’t felt guilty enough about it to confess all.
Lucas looked away from the portrait. He probably shouldn’t have told Essie about his own family history either. At the time he’d wanted to, had needed to do it, but it had only served to deepen the unspoken connection between them. His attraction towards Essie was growing at a rate of knots, but there was no way he could act upon it. He had Giselle, who was everyone’s idea of a perfect girlfriend, and he couldn’t believe the situation in which he now found himself.
Because Giselle was perfect. She hadn’t an enemy in the world and was adored by everyone who knew her. She was caring, loyal, thoughtful, cheerful and kind. There was absolutely nothing there to dislike. He’d met her, they’d hit it off at once, and the feelings had escalated from there. As their relationship had deepened, he’d assumed they were in love. Because this was how it felt, wasn’t it? So when Giselle had started ending their phone calls with a breezy ‘Love you!’ he had gone along with it because it would be churlish not to. When you looked forward to seeing someone, enjoyed their company in bed and out, and couldn’t imagine not wanting to spend time with them in the future . . . well, that meant you loved them, surely?
Or so he’d thought.
Lucas gave his coffee another stir and felt the knot in his chest stealthily tighten like a drawstring around his heart. He and Giselle had been together for six months; they were a recognised couple. But now this thing with Essie was happening, and the way he was starting to feel about her was knocking him for six. He found himself looking forward to her turning up for her shifts far more than he should. Each time she left, he wished she wasn’t going. Realistically, though, what could he do? What were his options? He couldn’t sack her. He couldn’t ask her to leave her job. Nor could he leave. But continuing to work here alongside her was going to become increasingly—