Page 31 of Love ad Lib
‘Mmm, I love that smell.’
OMG, OMG, OMG!
He disengaged, taking a bag off her shoulder and opening it.
‘You bloody star, Lib-Lob. No better smell than your sourdough.’ He held out his hand. ‘Shall we?’
She took it, swallowing her disappointment. Once again, her cooking seemed to excite him more than she did.
‘Lucas, shouldn’t we get our story straight before we go in?’
‘Do we need to?’ he asked, scrunching his nose.
‘What if he asks us how we got together?’
Lucas laughed. ‘Then we tell him the truth. How we met at that party ages ago and blah, blah, blah. Don’t sweat it, Lib-Lob. He won't give a shit about how we met. He just needs my approval.’
‘But, um, what if we need to, er, look authentic?’
He frowned at her. ‘Authentic?’
‘Maybe we should, er, practice kissing?’
‘Fuck me, we’re not giving him a sex show.’ He snorted. ‘Calm down. I’ve got this.’
He pulled her towards him and kissed her quickly on the lips. Libby was too shocked to register if it had been pleasurable or not.
‘See? Easy peasy. Now, come on. We don’t want to keep Lord Fancy-Pants waiting.’
Coffine House was designedto look like a funeral parlour from the Victorian era and was staffed by men with facial hair to match. Henry was sitting in a booth near the back and stood as they entered, his face strained and serious. Lucas dropped her hand and strode ahead, extending his arm.
‘Lucas Butler,’ he said, shaking Henry’s hand. ‘Good to meet you, buddy.’
‘Henry Foxbrooke. Thank you both for meeting me.’
‘No problem,’ Lucas replied, sliding into the booth.
Libby smiled tentatively at Henry. ‘Um, do you want a coffee or anything?’
‘Let me get it,’ he replied. ‘What would you like?’
‘I’ll have a double espresso,’ Lucas interrupted. ‘I’m a man of simple tastes.’ He beckoned her towards him. ‘Sit down, babe.’
‘Libby?’ Henry asked.
‘Um, just an Americano please,’ she replied, her face flushing with heat.
‘And I’ll take a cronut as well,’ added Lucas.
‘Libby?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing, thank you. I’m fine.’ Sitting next to Lucas, she tried to get her breathing back under control.
He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. ‘See, Lib-Lob, piece of cake.’
Henry returnedand served the two of them. Despite the paralysing panic Libby sometimes felt when about to perform improv, nothing was as nauseatingly uncomfortable as sitting next to one fake boyfriend, with a potential one sitting across from them.
Henry cleared his throat. ‘So—’
