Page 84 of The Key to My Heart

‘Yo, Foxes,’ he says.

‘Yo. So … French estate agents, eh?’

‘What?’

‘You two discussing – what was it? Deposits and locations in Bordeaux and—’

‘Ohhh. Yeah.’ Tom laughs, brings a bottle to his lips. ‘So, what do you reckon?’

‘On?’

Tom’s eyes widen, as if stumped. ‘Gigi.’

‘Oh, is that her name? Erm – well, what about Miss Two A.M?’

‘Dead in the water,’ he says.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘We haven’t seen each other since Heartt with two Ts.’ Tom grins, downs his drink. ‘But Gigi and me. We’re, uh, what is it you said about Joe at first –vibing.’

‘And look how that turned out,’ I laugh, but Tom just smiles, gives a shrug. So, is that it then? Has he crossed over into Gigi waters? ‘So, what, you … like her? You want to … ask her out or something?’

Tom stares at me.

‘What?’

‘Well … do you think I should?’ And Tom’s eyes, on mine, feel like they are totally locked in place.

‘Do I think you should what?’

‘Shall I ask her out?’ he asks, but his silly grin hasfaded now, and it’s like it’s just me in the room. Is he actually asking me if he should? Or – God. Is he asking me whether I want him to or not?

I open my mouth. And I’m shocked by how much I want to say no. How much I want to say mean things about her, make fun of the things she was saying. I’m thirty-three. That behaviour – I don’t even think I’d have acted so petulantly at twelve.

‘Erm …’

Tom looks at me. His beautiful pink lips, that perfect, sharp jaw, that shadow of stubble … and I think of Don. I think of calling Tom tomorrow, detonating a bomb under his family.

‘I say go for it.’

‘Yeah?’

There’s a long pause between us.

‘Natalie?’

‘I said yes,’ I say. Then I put my hand on his arm and say, ‘You deserve it, Tommy Button.’

Tom gives a tiny, confused smile, although there’s a flicker of his eyebrow, and he leans back in his seat, as if he isn’t quite sure I’m not a bit mad, as Gigi returns and says, ‘I love posh toilets. Do you love posh toilets?’

The hour passes like gravy through a sieve, and after yet another dish, I can hardly wait to leave. The hope that glimmered earlier, has dimmed, like a flickering lightbulb. I feel – confused. A bit sad. And Tom has pushed Gigi’s hair out of her face twice and she has had her hand on his leg for approximately six and a halfminutes. They’re on a date, while everyone else swaps seats to swap stories about total bollocks, like job moves and house moves and divorces andStrictly Come Dancing. And I think it’s time I left.

I squeeze my way to Priya, who sits rubbing her huge baby bump next to Will, her husband, who says hi from behind thick-rimmed black spectacles and a beard he’s just started to grow as if especially for fatherhood. ‘I’m going to go,’ I say.

‘Oh, no, really?’ says Priya. ‘Are you okay, Nat? I’ve hardly seen you. I was about to come over, I’m dying to talk to Tom. I’ll have to introduce myself. Is he okay? And you?’

‘Yes, fine. I’ve just had enough. Tired. Got work first thing, haven’t I, and we can’t all bunk off in the name of growing an actualperson.’

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