Page 43 of The Monday Night Heartbreak Club
Flynn stood beside the bed for a moment, gorgeously naked and sexy. ‘Work isn’t more important than you,’ he said. ‘I want you to know that.’
‘Because?’ I had to shake my hair out of my eyes now. There had been a degree of heat that had stuck it down.
‘Dad – he’s a bit of a workaholic. I know it made things difficult for Mum, and I don’t want to be like that.’
‘Flynn, your dad is a multimillionaire. You don’t get that without putting the hours in.’
Downstairs, the lorry beeped its horn.
‘I know. I just want you to know that I’m not like that. I work, yes, but other things have to be important too.’
‘Is this because of Eddie?’ I struggled myself up in the bed. The mattress was soft and wanted me to stay.
‘Kind of. I think so.’
The delivery driver leaned on the horn now.
‘Go. Get that sorted. I’ll limp slowly down and help you.’ I pushed him again.
‘I just wanted…’
‘Yes, I know.’
At my obvious insistence, Flynn pulled on his trousers and T-shirt and went off downstairs, leaving me to lie back against the pillows and make a face at myself. Flynn’s consideration made me smile. His obvious prowess in bed wasn’t off-putting, either. He clearly had issues with his father – well, that was to be expected; you couldn’t be the son of someone who seemed to pop up on each continent starting a new business every fortnight without there being repercussions.
Flynn worked hard. I’d seen him behind the bar, and running this place wasn’t a job for the faint-hearted either. But he didn’t want to be his father. Hewasn’this father, about which I, at least, was glad. His father was a craggy-faced bloke with an abrupt air, or at least that was how he came over on TV, and neither of those things appealed. Plus, he didn’t want me to think he was a workaholic. Good.
I lay a while longer, listening to Flynn outside chatting to the delivery driver, and looked around his bedroom. There was artwork on the walls, which made a change from my place, where the only things on the walls were the stains from dinners that Dexter had thrown. When I realised that the artworks were probably originals and that the paint on the walls probably cost more than my monthly rent, I had to get up and go and help with the delivery.
I could take the change in standards. I would just have to take it slowly, that was all.
15
Margot erupted through the wine bar door on Monday, early, out of breath and evidently over-excited.
‘Tell meeverything,’ she said.
‘I have told you everything.’ I wiped down the bar. Our phones had almost blown up with the number of messages that had flown to and fro. Only Annie had been noticeably quiet.
‘Oh.’ Margot calmed down. ‘I rather hoped there would be more.’
Behind her, Wren and Fraser came in. They’d obviously all travelled together again.
‘It’s two people’s lives, Margot,’ Wren said gently. ‘I keep telling you.’
‘Iknow.’ Margot sat down at her usual place. ‘But all those hours of watching Eddie and following him – it doesn’t seemenough, somehow, to find out that he’s simply managing his diabetes.’
‘I think it will be enough for Annie,’ I said. ‘It’s quite a lot to come to terms with. She’s been planning for a wonderful retirement and lots of travelling and all that, and there will becomplications that come from having to watch Eddie’s diet and everything.’
‘But she don’t have to worry no more,’ Fraser put in, hanging hopefully over the bar in case Flynn might have some peanuts. ‘He’s not shagging someone else.’
‘Exactly.’ Wren sat down too now, next to Margot. ‘It was the best possible outcome, really.’
‘I like this club.’ Fraser gave up hope on the peanut front. ‘When I joined, when my friend Scousie told me I ought to join, I thought women were like this weird bunch. Like, all they wanted was to sit at home putting make-up on and watchingLoose Women, waiting for a man to earn some money and come back and shag them.’
We all stared at him. ‘Did you actuallyknowany women at all?’ Wren asked, slightly faintly.
‘Well, yeah. My sister, my mum. Our Chloe, our Leah. Lots of women.’
