Page 49 of The Fallback

‘No,’ said Mitch emphatically.

Rosie exhaled. ‘OK, help me out here, howamI going to find a boyfriend when none of them seem to live up toyourexacting standards? I thoughtIwas the picky one!'

‘I’m just looking out for you,’ Mitch replied. ‘We don’t want another Graham, do we?’ he said sternly.

Rosie rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. ‘Anyway, you haven’t explained why you’re not at work,’ she said, running her fingers through her hair and immediately regretting it when she found an obstinate tangle.

‘Here,’ Mitch said, turning her round slightly and teasing the tangle out himself. Rosie couldn’t decide if this was more or less intimate than hand holding. Definitely more like monkey grooming. She smiled despite the awkwardness.

‘There,’ he said, turning her back to face the table. ‘Funny thing about social media.’

Rosie frowned at him making him laugh out loud. ‘Oh, Rosie, you posted a photo. I knew you were here. Thought I’d come say hi.’

Rosie’s face brightened, remembering the picture she had snapped of the British Museum with the sunlight catching its roof, which she’d then posted to Instagram.

‘I wanted to check you really were OK after the whole Graham thing?’ Mitch looked at her with a concerned expression on his face.

Rosie shrugged. ‘Just kind of cross with myself for giving him the time of day. Hey!’ she exclaimed. ‘Look at me, I’m getting so much better at handling rejection, aren’t I!’ She grinned at Mitch but this didn’t stop him looking at her worriedly.

‘You shouldn’t have to deal with rejection Rosie,’ he said softly, breaking his gaze and looking off towards Russell Square.

‘Hmm, well I’m glad you came to check on me,’ she said, reaching out and patting his arm. ‘Even if all you’ve done is pour big buckets of scorn all over any potential dates.’

‘You can do better than any of them,’ Mitch said firmly.

‘Really?’ Rosie asked. ‘Because I don’t feel like I’m doing so well at this dating thing, Mitch.’ She sighed.

He paused and looked down at his hands, fiddling with them in his lap. ‘You’ll meet the right person,’ he said after a while.

‘Ugh, I wish I had your confidence. I’m not sure I’d know Mr Right if he came up to me at this very moment and bought me coffee.’

Mitch’s face twisted strangely at her words, his gaze fixed on his hands. Fearing she’d said something wrong, she continued quickly, ‘I mean, it’s hard to know exactly what I’m looking for, you know? It’s OK for you.’

‘What do you mean?’ Mitch asked sharply, looking up from his hands into her eyes.

‘Well you know exactly the type of girl you’re looking for. Isn’t that how you found Jenny?’ Rosie flashed what she hoped came across as an I’m-super-comfortable-to-be-discussing-your-new-girlfriend smile at him. ‘Didn’t you just type in, cute, petite, blonde and the hits kept coming?’

Mitch didn’t laugh. ‘Something like that,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I should get back to work. Just glad you’re doing OK.’ He stood up quickly.

‘Oh, OK,’ Rosie replied, confused by his imminent abrupt departure. ‘Well thanks for coming.’ She stood too and they awkwardly hugged goodbye.

Rosie watched as Mitch walked off. She really wished he wasn’t wearing those trousers today, her favourite ones, the ones that showed off his…

Oh, damn you, Mitch, she thought to herself. She was supposed to have been here angrily swiping left and right. Not getting all messed up in her head by Mitch’s opinions on who was right for her and who was wrong. Fine for him to have such high standards for her, when he was already miles ahead in their plan. At this rate he’d be happily married to Jenny while she sat at home Miss Haversham-style, lacking even the being-jilted excuse to cry over.

ChapterFifteen

The Duke of Cambridge wasn’t your typical London pub. It didn’t look like much from the outside: a brick building on a nondescript side street conveniently close to Mitch’s flat. But the reason that Mitch managed to persuade people to travel across town to it was hidden behind the ordinary facade. Through the back door was hidden a huge (by London standards) beer garden, with tables nestled in wooden sections, cushions scattered across benches and fairy lights and bunting hung artfully between the trees. It was this that brought people to the pub, even in the depths of winter, when firepits were lit to provide warmth to the devoted drinkers.

Although it was edging deeper into autumn, the weather had been warm and the crowds in the garden provided enough heat that Rosie felt cosy in her jacket. She had put a scarf in her bag this morning when she left for work, but so far, she hadn’t needed it.

Mitch had messaged her during the day, checking again that she really was OK about Graham and hadn’t fallen into a pit of despair. But Rosie could read between the lines, he was really checking that she was still planning to come tonight because he was obviously excited to introduce her to Jenny.

Rosie had half thought about cancelling, just to put a dent in his enthusiasm but she had to admit she was intrigued to meet this woman who had seemingly captured Mitch’s heart when so many, herself included, had failed before.

Rosie had a plan; she would be friendly and polite but keep her distance. And she wouldn’t stay long. If she knew Mitch’s colleagues, none of them would be planning on consuming anything but alcohol and that could be disastrous for her, given the mood she was in. She’d stay for a drink, meet Jenny and then be on her way home to eat dinner by eight. She had a pizza with her name on it and a bottle of Sauvignon in the fridge – nicely chilled to take the edge off after meeting the new girlfriend.

But it was seven-fifteen already and still there was no sign of Mitch. Rosie was sat on one of the wooden benches between two of Mitch’s colleagues, both of whom she had known for ages. On any other evening she would have been enjoying their banter but she was on edge, anxious to get this meeting out of the way and get home.

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