Instead, all she could think about was what she’d said to James: that Jasmine and Rahul had been friends for seven years before they’d gotten together.
And look at them. They were so obviously happy, so sickeningly meant for each other. It must have been nerve-wracking, risking a friendship as old and close as theirs. Must have been terrifying, wondering if a person you cared for so deeply on so many levels might not feel exactly the same. But they’d done it anyway. And their bravery had reaped rewards.
Nina’s gaze drifted across the table without permission, landing on James as he sipped a glass of water and twirled pasta onto his fork. She watched his strong hands move, watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Then her questing gaze reached his eyes, so dark and familiar and dear. She loved those eyes. She loved him.
Enough to risk it all.
And that settled things, didn’t it? As soon as this mess was over, as soon as she could breathe absolutely freely again… Nina was going to claim what she wanted.
She was going to claim James.
“Nina?” She saw his mouth moving before she fully processed that he’d spoken. Jolting back down to earth, she realised the whole table was staring at her, their plates empty and their expressions concerned.
Except for Jasmine, who was flashing what appeared to be a knowing smirk. The cow.
“Nina?” James repeated, his voice louder, his brow furrowed.
“I’m fine,” she said brightly. “Sorry. Fine. Just…” she turned to Jasmine. “Shall we talk now?”
“About your situation? Yes. I have some thoughts on the doxing and tips on how we typically handle threats or presumed stalking,” Jas said, rising from her seat. “Plus some ideas on executing the plan you texted me this morning. Shall we head to my office?”
Nina cleared her throat and nodded, bustling after a suddenly business-like Jas. But when she reached the doorway, she turned back to glance at James.
And found him watching her with the kind of intensity he usually saved for their secret moments in the dark.
When she caught him, he faltered for the barest second, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he lifted his chin and held her gaze steadily, almost as if he wanted to see her reaction.
Maybe she wasn’t the only one feeling a little inspired by Jas and Rahul.
James spent the next two days thinking hard about the bright, fragile note in Nina’s voice when she’d said, “Jas and Rahul were friends for seven years.” And the next two nights staring at the living room door, praying she’d come, praying she wouldn’t.
What did it mean that she stayed away?
He was starting to get sick of never-ending questions and assumptions. So sick he might just fucking ask her.
They were adults. Nina was the most sensible woman he knew, heroine complex aside. If he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life blue in the balls, or ashamed of the things he did with her in silence and in darkness, or fucking pining until he wasted away into a mix of air and hope, he should just fucking ask her. Fear be damned. James was in the middle of repeating that mantra to himself when she got the phone call.
He was with Nina when the phone rang; or rather, she was with him, sitting in the old Volvo he was working on, tapping away at her laptop. He was supposed to be concentrating, but he’d spent most of his morning watching her. Thinking about her. Wondering if it was possible to believe so wholly in your own negative assumptions that you could miss something perfect sitting right in front of you.
When the phone’s tinny ringtone sounded, Nina jumped as if she’d just been hit by lightning. He watched her squint at the screen—and then, unexpectedly, her anti-social glare melted into excitement.
Their eyes met through the windscreen, and he arched an eyebrow. Mouthed, “Police?”
She shook her head, set her laptop aside, and took the call. He could hear her half of the conversation loud and clear, but that wasn’t enough to tell him what was going on. “Yes, this is she. That’s correct. Oh, of course. Yes. Thank you.” There was a slight pause, and then she began again. “Hello! Antonina Chapman. Charmed.”
Charmed? Her phone voice was in full effect.
“Thank you so much for picking up my little story. No, absolutely. Oh, well, you’ve got to keep your chin up, haven’t you, in situations like these? Although…” She hesitated, then spoke again, her voice wavering. “Obviously, it’s been difficult at times. I—um—sorry, sorry.” She pressed her lips together and cleared her throat.
James dropped his torque wrench, the vulnerability in her voice calling him like a dog whistle. Nina’s upset. Fix it. But then she looked up, caught his eye, raised a hand palm-first in the universal sign for Stop.
And winked.
He hesitated, baffled.
She kept speaking in that wispy, stuttering voice. “Thank you. Yes, of course. It all started with my analysis of the recent Brexit scandal, when the Leave campaign was proven to have made false claims and promises. I truly believe in disseminating information, making it accessible to all—that’s why I so admire you and what you do. I feel that we have the same aims, sharing genuine facts with normal people. Yes. Yes, exactly. So, I shared the article, but…” She sobbed gently. The sound stabbed at James’s heart, even though he was beginning to suspect that this whole thing was an act. “I suppose it gained the wrong sort of attention. You know what Brexit does to people. And now…”
Nina launched into a stilted explanation of the last few weeks, her words dripping with more emotion than she typically displayed in a month. And she was, apparently, talking to a stranger. Knowing her the way he did, James was certain that she must be painfully uncomfortable. Mortified. Which also meant that whatever she was up to, she had a damned good reason for it.
When she finally put the phone down, after a series of inane and repetitive farewells, he stalked over to her side of the car and opened the door. “What the hell was that?”
“That was Jasmine getting me a slot on Good Morning Ladies with Heidi Carpenter.”
At the name of the famous breakfast chat show host, his jaw dropped. “What?”
“What?”
He scowled at her faux-innocent expression. “Heidi Carpenter? The Heidi Carpenter?”
“Yep.” Nina lifted her hips and slid her phone into her back pocket. For once, even the way her thighs flexed wasn’t enough to distract him. Much.
“You’re going to be a guest on Good Morning Ladies?”
“Yes.” She gave him a winning smile. It was the fakest expression he’d ever seen on her face, but if you didn’t know her, it would look pretty.
Very pretty.
“I’m going to disclose my harrowing ordeal and win middle Britain’s hearts and minds,” she said cheerfully.
After a pause in which he grappled with his pure astonishment, James choked out, “When?”
“Three days.”
“How?”
She smirked as if she’d been waiting for him to ask. “Persuasion. It’s all righteous, faux-woke bullshit, but that’s okay. They exploit me and my story, I get public support and short-term hyper-visibility, AKA relative safety, in return. Who needs police when you’ve got paps?”
“So the… the crying was part of the persuasion?”