Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“Call me?” Amanda says.
“Sure.” I hang up and push my way into the café, heading for the fridges. I reach past Lo and snag a tuna baguette, making her jump.
“Oh.” Her hand meets her chest as she turns towards me, and the sadness I saw vanishes. She smiles. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I dip and kiss her cheek before grabbing a bottle of water. “Usual?” I ask, heading for the counter.
“I’ll grab a table.” She makes off toward the window and I order our coffees, quickly paying and joining her.
“Nice blouse,” I tell her, taking in the black thing with birds scattered all over it. Their wings are spread, as if every one of them are flying free. I wonder if there’s a sense of irony in her choice of clothing. I’ve thought from the moment I met Lo that she has a certain edginess to her dress. And a need to be free.
Lo looks down, patting at the birds. “Thanks. It’s old. Like 1975 or something.” She looks up and smiles, pulling her plaited hair over her shoulder. “How are you?”
I open the baguette and break it in half, removing the cucumber from Lo’s half before passing it to her. “Busy,” I reply. “New buildings flying up all over London, and they all need security.” I sink my teeth into my lunch. “You?”
She nods, though it’s a little non-committal. “So who’s flavor of this week?” she asks, tucking into her own lunch on a concealed smile. This is pretty much the kick-start of all our lunches. My sex life. For some reason, Lo finds my dating shenanigans amusing.
“Amanda, and I just turned her down to keep our date,” I inform her, rather smug. I’m certain she thinks I’m a serial dater. To be fair, she isn’t wrong, but as if her conclusions on me need any support, the turnover of women seems to be more frequent these past four weeks. Women are getting crazier, I swear. And more boring. One date and they assume you’re in a full-blown relationship. Maybe there’s something in Lo’s claim. Maybe I need to explore the older woman. Come to think of it . . . “Amanda’s a little older, so maybe she won’t be as needy or shallow.”
“How much older?” she asks.
“Twenty-five.”
Her mouth, which is currently wrapped around the end of her baguette, widens more. “Wow,” she mumbles. “Then I’m ancient.” Dropping her lunch, she gives me tired eyes. “You’re forty-two, Luke.”
“Don’t remind me.” I reach over and brush away a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth.
“Thanks.” She claims her coffee and takes a sip. “I think thirty should be your bottom line.” Nodding to herself, I conclude she thinks her suggestion is a good idea.
“Thirty is a bad age,” I tell her. “It’s the prime age for a woman to want all the things, and I’m not sure I’m ready for marriage and kids.”
“Forty, then. It’s still younger than you.”
I shake my head, keeping my horror from my face. “Divorced. Children. Baggage. No, thanks.”
She snorts, falling back in her chair. “You’re priceless, Luke. So, basically, all the things you are.”
I hold up my finger in protest, munching my way through my mouthful and swallowing. “I’m not divorced.”
Her shoulders drop. “You may as well be.”
“But I’m not.” I give her a cheesy grin. “Thanks to my grandfather.” Her brow furrows, prompting me to go on. “He was the only one who told me not to marry Tia’s mother when everyone else was trying to wrestle me down the aisle.” No one knows me like Pops. Never have, and never will. “He knew I was making a mistake.”
“So he stopped you?”
“Yes. Told me I didn’t have to be a husband to be a good father. I owe him. He saved me millions in a certain divorce.”
She laughs, shaking her head in dismay. “You’re terrible.”
“Maybe, but I’m terrible and still wealthy.” I finish my lunch and screw up my rubbish. “Though maybe not for long if my girl keeps rinsing me of cash.”
“How’s she getting on?” Lo asks, resting her elbows on the table. I’ve told Lo all about Tia’s adventures around the world. I’ve never seen someone so keen to listen. So I feed her interest weekly with the latest update, which usually involves me transferring money to Tia’s account at some point for some reason or another.
“Great. I’m missing her madly, but sometimes you just have to let go.”
“Do you get on with her mother?”
“I tolerate her.” I motion at her barely touched lunch. “Eat.”
Looking down, she blinks a few times before doing as she’s told. I don’t know how I finish eating my lunch first every time when it’s me doing most of the talking. I think I must have given Lo my whole life story over the past month. Told her things I’ve never thought to tell anyone. About my revolving-door dates, my cheeky-arse daughter. I never talk about Tia with the women I fuck. When I said my grandfather knows me better than anyone, I think I may have been mistaken. Lo must surely be catching up. And yet there is so much I still don’t really know about her. I know she’s quite quirky. I know she adores her dog. I know she works to live, rather than lives to work. Although, and I would never tell her, she hardly lives. I know she loves all things old and vintage. And I know that she isn’t happy at home.