Page 58 of Big Nick Energy
His smile broadens into laughter. Our eyes glance to the next table over where a man has ordered champagne in a silver bucket. ‘That’s either an early Christmas gift or…’
‘He’s shagging his secretary and is trying to make it up to the wife.’
The synchronicity in how we finish each other’s sentences is strangely arousing and makes me lean into the table. This is the sort of conversation that might keep me in this. An older couple sit at the bar and toast each other. ‘They go to the ballet every year, a non-negotiable. A little Christmas tradition…’ Nick goes strangely quiet at that point, looking at them dolefully. ‘And their names are…’
‘Tom Collins and a Bramble?’ Not the names I’d have chosen for that couple but the waitress arrived just in time. I was also right about the drinks in this place. Mine is half-crushed ice and a mint plant sprouting out the top. She puts the glasses down and Nick raises his to clink against the side of mine. ‘To us.’
It’s a simple toast but one that makes me smile. Did the older couple at the bar prompt this sentiment? Either way, it feels aptto toast us, a version of us that could exist in the future. ‘What do you think people say about us then?’
‘Obviously, we are stunning and people are hugely jealous of the chemistry,’ he jokes.
‘Obviously. They adore your tailoring.’
‘And I reckon people can see the history, the story. I like that we have a story.’
And I understand what he means completely. He reaches over to hold my hand and rubs a thumb over my knuckles affectionately.
‘Nick?’ I am snapped out of our moment by a blonde lady standing beside us, a glass of red wine in her hand. ‘What are you…’ She swings around to look at me and I see poker-straight blonde hair, blue eyes and a way her lips curl to a disapproving pout. She’s in an olive backless dress which shows me she’s not wearing a bra. I get no warmth from her; it’s a cold front with super-frosty edges. I know her but I can’t think how. Nick’s demeanour changes to see her too and he moves his hand away from mine and sits up straighter in his seat. He’s gone from casual and flirty to rigid, a snarky look to his eyes that I can’t quite read.
‘Oh, hi… yeah, we’re here to watch the ballet.’
‘The ballet? Seriously?’ the lady says, one eyebrow raised.
So she knows him. Ouch. Is this an ex? To find out I’d have to ask or get out my phone to do some side-by-side comparisons with old Facebook photos but that might not go down well.
‘Why not? This is Kay. Kay, this is Neve.’
I know that name, I really do know that name. This is an ex. This is an ex from New York because I’ve seen a photo of them on top of the Empire State Building.You have really good hair.Don’t say that out loud. She looks at me but doesn’t seem to want to engage in pleasantries. I will assume that Nick dumped her on account of her lack of manners then. She’s judging, I canfeel that gaze scanning my face, looking for zits, warts, an extra nostril, anything that can place me beneath her, and for that, I hate her immediately.I hope that wine stains your teeth and you don’t find out all evening so in all your photos, it looks like you’ve been sucking off a Smurf.
‘It’s good to meet you,’ I say, not really sure why I’m lying or feeling so angry. She nods back at me and her lack of etiquette immediately riles Nick. I’m secretly pleased he’s so defensive of me in this moment.
‘Well, enjoy. If I don’t see you before, have a good Christmas,’ Nick replies, not quite smiling. She doesn’t reply. She just gives a slight shake of the head and walks away. I can’t hide the look on my face as she does so. I see Nick turn to watch her go, then he turns back to me. ‘Absolute bitch.’ He takes a long sip of his drink and looks over his shoulder again.
‘Am I allowed to ask?’ I mutter.
‘An ex.’
‘I thought she might be. She’s…’
‘So far up her own sphincter, she can breathe out her own mouth?’ he says.
‘I was going to say a bit Grinchy, but that also works,’ I say, trying to lighten the mood and then I see Nick’s face relax, and he laughs loudly, enough for a few people to look up. Loud enough that someone at the end of the bar might be able to hear. I know his game.Oh my, is she scrunchie lady?Because that computes in a big way. There’s a story there, right? That would have been a long relationship, something that travelled miles and obviously didn’t work out, but this is not the right time to fish for details and kill the mood.
He sits, still slightly pensive. ‘Do you believe in fate, Kay?’ Nick asks me, stroking the side of his glass.
‘I believe the universe has a plan,’ I say. ‘I think it’s funny we met, broke up and reunited at Christmas. The timing is pretty impressive.’
‘I’ve been starting to think that. Perhaps we were reunited for a reason.’ He smiles broadly. ‘Plus, Christmas seems to be the common theme here. That means we’d have to give our kids festive names.’
‘You and the kids, stop it already. I’m not even ovulating,’ I joke.
‘Holly and Ivy.’
‘Mariah and Rudolph.’
Again, he roars with laughter. ‘That would be cruel.’
‘But funny.’
