‘Charlie, this is Ellie. Ellie, Charlie.’
A large damp hand was held out for me to shake, which I did, proud of the way I didn’t grimace or wipe my now decidedly sticky palm on the side of my dress.
‘Charlie and I have worked together on several projects,’ Rhys explained.
Charlie, who was busily scanning the room for new arrivals, had his head turned away from us, and Rhys used the moment to subtly pass me a couple of serviettes from one of the canapé trays to dry my hand. His eyes were dancing with amusement and mine couldn’t help but join in. The look we shared felt so easy, so right, as though out of all the pairs of eyes in the world, his were the only ones I ever wanted to look into, to laugh with. And just like that, we were back in the game of emotional snakes and ladders, and I’d slithered right back down to square one all over again.
Rhys hadn’t been exaggerating about the library, which we adjourned to some forty-five minutes later. It was a booklover’s paradise with spectacular double-height floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining every wall. The room had been lavishly decked outfor tonight’s gala, with round white-clothed tables bearing towering candelabras and exotic floral centrepieces.
One by one we’d been joined by the rest of Rhys’s colleagues, who were his fellow award nominees. I was usually good with names, but the only ones that stuck belonged to the two women, who I recognised from the bar: Nina and Helen. Nina gave me a warm smile, but the one from Helen looked less genuine. It stayed on the lower half of her face and never reached her eyes.
Interestingly, both women appeared surprised and a little intrigued by my presence. I couldn’t work out why, until we wandered over to the seating plan by the doorway. Then it made sense. No one else at our table had brought a partner to the awards. I was the only plus-one. I shot Rhys a sideways glance, but he clearly hadn’t picked up on the anomaly.
Our table was on the far side of the library, and there was a lot of weaving and swerving to avoid other guests still hunting for their seats, as well as avoiding the circulating wait staff, who were busily serving drinks from overloaded trays.
When a waiter suddenly stepped backwards, directly in my path, Rhys’s reactions were as quick as a cat’s. His hand shot out and circled my waist, pulling me to one side and saving me from wearing whatever had been in the glasses on the waiter’s tray. The poor man looked mortified and went the same shade of red as the velvet covering on the chairs as he righted the fallen glasses on his tray, and he wasn’t the only one. The touch of Rhys’s hand on my naked back when he’d pulled me out of the way was something I clearly hadn’t thought through when buying the dress. The sensation of his skin against mine was electrifying – and for two people who’d been through what we had, that wasn’t a term I used lightly. I found myself unconsciously holding my breath for the remainder of the time it took us to cross the room. When we reached our table and his hand fell away, I was practically gasping for air.
We were the last to take our seats. There were only two unoccupied chairs left, on opposite sides of the table from each other. It didn’t occur to me that someone might have deliberately engineered it so that we weren’t sitting together until I noticed a flash of satisfaction in Helen’s eyes. In any other situation I’d probably have responded with an eloquently arched eyebrow, but these weren’t my people, they were Rhys’s, and I wasn’t about to make a scene. I was a grown woman who was perfectly capable of sitting alone for an hour or two. I stepped towards one of the vacant seats, but Rhys stopped me, his eyes going to the second empty chair on the far side of the table.
‘Do you mind if we rearrange the seating?’ He put the question to the whole group, but Helen was the only one who looked irritated enough to allow an audible sigh to escape. Was there some history between them? Something that predated his relationship with Annalise? Because his former work colleague certainly seemed put out by his request.
‘Here, you can have my place,’ volunteered Charlie, jumping out of his chair which was next to one of the vacant seats. He picked up his drink and switched places, and I immediately forgave him for having the sweatiest handshake in the world.
It felt like six pairs of eyes were on us as Rhys pulled out the chair for me before slipping into the one on my right.
His friends were amusing and exuberant and possibly a little tipsy from the overflowing glasses of champagne, which the waiters ensured were never empty. They spoke quickly, out-quipping each other and finishing every anecdote with peals of laughter. Their stories went back over the years, and I quickly realised the Rhys of old was a very different man from the one I knew. The word workaholic was used to describe him more than once. The old him and the old me would have been an excellent match if he’d beenfree back then. But the jury was still out as to whether the newer versions stood a chance.
There wasn’t much opportunity for private conversation, but I was happy to sit back and take it all in. So, when the focus abruptly swivelled our way, I wasn’t ready for it.
‘So, how did the two of you meet?’ asked a man sitting on Charlie’s right-hand side, who may or may not have been called Hugh.
‘We didn’t even know he was seeing anyone,’ Nina said, her eyes going reproachfully to the man beside me.
I was glad the lighting in the library was more atmospheric than illuminating, because I think my cheeks had turned an interesting shade of pink. I shot a quick sideways glance at Rhys, who didn’t seem as thrown by their interest as I was.
‘Ellie and I met in a park, actually,’ he said easily.
Perhaps I wasn’t quick enough to disguise my surprise at the pared-down version of the truth, because I felt Helen’s radar had immediately been activated. She craned forward on her chair, clearly anxious not to miss a single word.
‘Although we’re not—’ I began and then guillotined the rest of that sentence when, beneath the table, Rhys’s hand captured mine and squeezed it tightly. I pasted a big smile on my face and didn’t glance his way at all.
‘We’re not sure what made either of us go to the park that day.’ I turned to face the man beside me, who still had my hand clasped in his own. ‘Just fate, I guess.’ His eyes were molten green, full of silent admiration and gratitude, and something inside me melted. I could lie compulsively for the rest of my days to earn that look over and over again.
The arrival of the first course couldn’t have been better timed. The service was like a well-choreographed ballet, with platesarriving and being whisked away with uncommon speed, leaving little opportunity for anything beyond surface-level conversation.
When a microphone and stand were brought onto the stage, I excused myself for a quick trip to the Ladies’ before the presentation ceremony began. I couldn’t have been more than halfway across the room when I got the feeling that someone was following me.
Helen entered the washroom about fifteen seconds behind me. It could have been a coincidence. But I didn’t think it was. It was clear Rhys didn’t want his colleagues to know how we’d met, or that our relationship was very much in the friend zone. What would have been useful to know in advance was why.
I could certainly have done with a heads up, because when I emerged from the cubicle, Helen was already at the bank of basins. She was washing her hands thoroughly enough to perform surgery or simply stalling and waiting for me to join her. Unfortunately, the only free basin was beside hers.
‘I didn’t realise Rhys was bringing a plus-one tonight.’
I would have loved to ask why that was any of her business, but I was at a disadvantage here. I didn’t know the nature of their relationship. They could be long-term best friends or former lovers for all I knew. Although either, in my opinion, represented extremely poor judgement on Rhys’s part. I felt totally wrong-footed and silently cursed Rhys for not giving me at least a sketchy backstory to work with.
‘It was a last-minute decision to come,’ I said. That, at least, was true.
‘You and he are...?’ Helen left the rest of the question dangling in the air, like a puppeteer’s marionette.