Page 38 of One Month's Notice

“Michael, you simply must try the duck. It’s divine.” Clara used her own chopsticks to hold a slice up to his mouth before he could protest. “Here, let me.”

“Thank you.” Michael’s eyes met Nat’s, his expression unreadable. His blindness to Clara’s behaviour, yet again, was exasperating.

“So, Steve.” Nat turned to the older man. “How did you first get into the gambling business? It seems like an interesting career path.”

Steve chuckled, wiping his hands with a napkin. “Well, it certainly keeps me on my toes! I actually started out training to be an accountant, but found it dreadfully dull. My roommate in university had an uncle who ran a small betting shop. He got me a job there while I was studying.”

Nat listened and nodded along politely as Steve shared his life story. It was a relief to have something to distract her from Clara and her relentless attempts to monopolise Michael’s attention.

As the night progressed, the remnants of their dinner were spread out haphazardly on the table, creating a patchwork of half-finished plates and crumpled napkins. Nat toyed with her chopsticks, the lacquered wood cool and smooth between her fingers. The chatter around them had taken on a relaxed quality, punctuated by the clink of glasses and soft laughter.

Michael caught the waiter’s eye and subtly gestured for the bill. As the waiter nodded and retreated, conversation veered toward continuing the night at a nearby club known for its exclusivity. Clara, yet again, was keen to show off her connections across the city.

“I think I’ll call it a night.” Nat stifled a yawn, picking up her phone to summon a cab with a few taps. She couldn’t face spending any more time watching Clara drape herself over Michael and needed a quick escape.

“Already?” Clara’s eyebrows arched in mock surprise, her red lips curving. “The night is young.”

“Early start tomorrow.” Nat took her time sorting the contents of her handbag, avoiding Clara’s gaze. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.”

Moments later, Nat was outside with the chill of the drizzle settling on the back of her neck. The neon sign of the restaurant flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the slick pavement. She wrapped her arms around herself, seeking warmth as she waited.

“Natalie.” Michael’s voice cut through the misty air as he stepped out, leaving Clara and the others behind to gather their coats.

“Hey.” Nat acknowledged his presence without looking at him, her eyes fixed on the distant headlights that crept closer.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” There was a note of something in his voice, perhaps concern, but it was hard to pin down.

“I’m very sure.” She winced at the sharpness of her tone.

He hesitated, then shifted uncomfortably. “Is everything OK?”

Nat turned to him, her eyes reflecting the streetlights. “You might not see it, but Clara… she’s always trying to make me feel small. Trying to undermine me. And you just, well, let her.” Raindrops gathered on her lashes as she blinked away the moisture.

“Clara?” Michael sounded genuinely perplexed. “She’s just being… Clara.”

“Exactly. And you don’t see it. Or you don’t want to.” Nat’s words were cutting, exact.

“Nat, I—”

“Never mind.” She cut him off, a hollow laugh escaping her. “I shouldn’t have expected any different.”

“Expected what? I don’t understand.” His brows knitted together in confusion.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” The headlights she’d been watching pulled up to the curb and the taxi came to a gentle stop.

“Please, tell me.”

Nat’s breath caught in her throat, the words finally spilling out with a mix of hurt and frustration.

“I thought… after the kiss, I believed there could be something between us. But if you can’t even stand up for me, then maybe it was nothing to you. Maybe it was just a mistake.”

Michael’s face fell, the realisation finally dawning on him. The rain grew heavier, each drop splattering on the pavement like tiny echoes of her disappointment.

“I—”

“It’s fine. Really.” She attempted a smile, but it faltered, betrayed by the tear that escaped down her cheek. “I clearly misread the situation.” She stepped forward and pulled the taxi door open.

“Wait…” Michael reached out, his hand hovering in the space between them to stop her.

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