Page 81 of The Fallback

‘Can I ask who you were interviewing?’

Connor leaned forward and put his hand on her thigh, then he whispered into her ear, ‘You can, but I’d have to test your ability to keep a secret under pressure first.’

Rosie bit her lip and looked up into his face. He was staring down at her mouth, looking at her as ifhewanted to be the one biting her lip.

She cleared her throat, unsure of how to respond. She turned to the bar, picking up her glass of champagne in an attempt to clear her head. Connor took the hint and leaned back but he kept his hand right where it was on her thigh. Dangerously close to being inappropriate for a public place.

‘So,’ Rosie said, wondering how on earth she was supposed to make polite conversation with Connor, who looked like he just wanted to undress her there and then. Actually it was making her feel uncomfortable rather than desired. ‘What brought you back to London, then?’ She played nervously with the stem of her champagne flute.

‘This and that,’ Connor said non-committally, leaning back and finally taking his hand off her thigh. Rosie felt a sigh of relief, she was beginning to think her entire lower body would go numb with the effort of sitting still to prevent his hand from creeping any higher.

‘Actually,’ he said after a pause, ‘there’s been a spate of weddings and you know what it’s like. You start getting all the standard questions about when you might settle down, whether it might be you next. You know, the usual.’ He smiled at her knowingly. ‘But I suppose it started me thinking about what Idowant and whether I did want to be next or not.’

Rosie nodded in agreement. ‘There’s nothing worse than being the only single person at a wedding,’ she laughed. ‘All those well-meaning comments about it being your turn next, that you just haven’t met the right person. I always want to shout something inappropriate like maybe I don’t want to get married, or maybe I have met the right person but…’ She felt herself blush again, knowing she was on the verge of saying too much. ‘But it’s not the right time,’ she said quickly. Connor gave her a curious look.

They both took a drink. ‘So did it feel strange to leave Washington?’ she asked.

Connor looked momentarily confused. ‘Oh, I haven’t been in DC for years.’

‘Really?’ she asked. ‘I imagined you getting into the political scene there and never wanting to leave,’ Rosie laughed.

‘Yeah but the real DC is not likeVeeporThe West Wing, you know. There aren’t loads of incredibly smart, good-looking and essentially well-intentioned people walking the corridors, talking quickly. It’s real life, not TV,’ he said archly.

‘So moreDesignated Survivor?’ quipped Rosie before noticing the look of disdain on Connor’s face. Perhaps she had misremembered and Connor wasn’t much one for the banter? Maybe it was Mitch that’d had the thing about Kiefer Sutherland? ‘I mean, of course not,’ she quickly continued. ‘I just thought, you know, you seemed so keen to go.’

Neither of them said anything for a moment, Rosie was thinking back to the painful conversations that had consumed them when Connor had first been offered that job. How dedicated he had been to the political cause, how driven he had been by his career. And how supportive and undemanding Rosie had been even when she had been desperate for him to show as much dedication and drive towards their relationship instead. Connor meanwhile was studying the whiskey menu.

Rosie felt panicked. Was she really about to lose him over an ill-judged joke about a rubbish Kiefer Sutherland series? ‘So, where else have you been working?’ Rosie picked her champagne up again, put it back down, readjusted the fancy napkin that the barman had placed underneath it. All the while she was hoping she could move their conversation away from American political TV series and back into something less challenging, like how uncomfortable it was to be the only single person at a wedding.

‘Oh,’ he said, looking up from the whiskey menu. ‘I basically get moved each time there’s a new political event to cover. I’ve been all over the world.’ He stretched back on his bar stool, giving Rosie a glimpse of his stomach which was definitely flabbier than she recalled it being. She looked quickly away, keen not to let the spell break entirely.

‘I think the longest I’ve stayed in one place was six months and that was partly because I got sick and spent three months recuperating.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Rosie said with sympathy, ‘that must have been tough to be away and be sick.’

‘It comes with the territory,’ he said, ‘one of the drawbacks of the career I chose.’ He nodded sagely. ‘Or perhaps,’ he continued, starting to laugh at his own joke, ‘the career that chose me. I think I was fated to be a journalist.’

There it was again, Connor’s use of the word fate. Did he really believe in fate? Or was it a useful phrase that he used to convey the magic and mystery of being Connor Ryan. Was it really fate that had led him back to Rosie or something else? She didn’t know what to say. Despite her best endeavours to reignite those feelings she had felt for Connor back in the day, and the excitement she was desperate to feel ever since his dramatic arrival back into her life, it was all starting to feel a little like a damp squib. One more smug comment and all her feels for him might disappear forever.

He was definitely different to the boy she remembered. More self-absorbed and dare she say it, arrogant? But Rosie had spent enough time around high-achieving men to consider putting this down to bravado. Maybe he was nervous about seeing her again? Just as she was nervous about seeing him.

‘So, where’s the best place you’ve been? What’s your favourite location?’ she asked, bending over backwards to lighten the tone and to get him to relax.

‘That,’ he said, reaching over to pick his whiskey tumbler up and roll the remaining liquid over the melting ice cubes, ‘is an easy question to ask.’

‘And to answer?’ Rosie asked bluntly. She was becoming frustrated with doing all the heavy lifting in this conversation.

But he didn’t get the chance to answer, because just at that moment Rosie’s stool was knocked from behind, and her glass flew out of her hand, throwing what was left of her champagne all over Connor’s neatly pressed shirt.

‘What the––!’ he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in anger.

‘I’m so sorry!’ the person behind Rosie said.

Rosie whipped round, stunned to hear that voice. ‘Mitch?’

‘Rosie!’ ‘Are you OK?’ Mitch asked with both surprise and concern. ‘I’m so sorry, the person the other side of me knocked into me. I didn’t know it was you.’ He looked down at her, both of them sensing the awkwardness that was heading their way.

’You two know each other?’ asked Connor.

---