“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” I pushed NOB back into the booth and onto the seat, yanking the curtain closed before sliding in next to him. “That was mortifying.”
“That was pure rom-com.” NOB grinned. The smile fell away when he saw my thunderous expression. “Why is it so hard to believe that I like you?”
“Because you’re Ezra Chester. You date the Monica Reeds of this world, not Evie Summers from Sheffield,” I said. It wasn’t that I thought I was particularly hideous, but this was NOB. He was all about status and appearances. He wouldn’t even let me read his script because I was just an assistant.
And yet he was staring at me like he couldn’t understand what I was saying. “I’m not with Monica. I’m here, with you. Telling you that I like you. Go on a date with me. One date. That’s all I’ll need to convince you.”
He seemed so sincere, and he wasn’t giving up. Exactly how far was he willing to take this? Could I somehow use this to get him to show me the script?
“Just one drink,” I said grudgingly. “And we’ll do it right now.”
“It’s a start.” As NOB flashed that Hollywood, all-is-right-with-the-world smile of his, John stuck his head through the curtain. He didn’t look happy.
“Just in time—we’ll have just one bottle of your merlot,” NOB told him.
“Okay, let’s hear this,” I challenged him when the waiter had retreated.
“You’re adorable. You make me laugh. And you’re just about the only person who doesn’t take my shit,” NOB reeled off, a little more easily than I’d been expecting. “And,” he said, “you like me. Admit it.”
I found him attractive, but I was hardly alone in that. It didn’t mean I liked him.
Even if, I had to concede, there was more to him than I used to believe there was. The roadside rescue. Ziggy. If pressed, I might even admit that his messages weren’t entirely infuriating.
“No,” I said anyway. “I really don’t, Ezra.”
He flinched, and I felt a flash of guilt.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed these last few months. I have. Talking to you has been the one highlight of a crappy start to the year. You like me, Red.”
I wanted to deny it, but the truth was, there was a small part of me that at the very least appreciated him. As maddening as he was, there was something very straightforward about Ezra Chester. What you saw was very much what you got, and it was appealing.
He inched closer to me along the booth, as if sensing weakness, blue eyes eager.
“I think we might have something here, Red. Tell me you don’t feel it too.”
I remembered being in his kitchen the day we’d made our deal, when he’d looked at me as though really seeing me for the first time. It had been like standing in a spotlight. Compared to that, the look he was giving me now was a tractor beam, pulling me in.
Someone made a brisk gap in the curtain. John. He placed a tray with glasses and wine on our table with a flourish and started to uncork the merlot.
“We need a moment here,” NOB said to him.
“Oh, it won’t take long, sir.” John poured a drop of wine into NOB’s glass, clearly in it for the long game, only to find the bottle plucked from his fingers.
“Thank you, John,” I said, as NOB fluttered his fingers to usher him away.
The waiter snatched his corkscrew back and didn’t bother to close the curtain behind him.
“You were saying?” NOB said to me.
I glanced away from him across the restaurant, needing a moment.
A new arrival caught my eye.
“Oh my God,” I said. “Ricky.”
“That’s not my name.”
“No,” I said, lowering myself down in the seat. “Ricky. My ex. He’s here.”
Chapter 29
Dicky
INT: THE DIRECTOR’S BOOTH, THE ASH—SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 8:13 P.M.
NOB lounges against the purple leather of the booth, lit by a miniature spotlight. Beside him, EVIE sinks down so her chin is level with the table as NOB looks at her in amusement.
“There’s a story here. Tell me.” NOB started to rise to his feet. “Or I could just ask your ex.”
I pulled him back down. “Okay, okay.”
Glancing back over to Ricky, I saw who he was with. Jodi.
“Oh, shit.”
If she saw me out with NOB alone, she could have the entire industry believing we actually were dating. Come to think of it, why were she and Ricky here alone . . . ?
“Still waiting.”
“Fine.” I kept it short. “Ricky’s my ex. We were together for two years. He got a job as an assistant at our rival agency and left me. He told me . . .” I stopped.
“What, Red? Here.” He slid my drink toward me and I took it with sweaty palms. I’d managed to avoid Ricky for over twelve months. My job was everything to me, and yet I’d purposely missed events I knew he’d most likely be at. Still, in an industry this small, we were bound to bump into each other sometime or other, and the Ash was the industry’s nexus point. Especially for someone like Ricky, who wanted to be seen. “Breathe,” said NOB. I took his advice and inhaled the wine.
“He told you . . . ?” Did he really care about this?
“He told me that he wanted a bigger life. A more exciting one.” I swallowed more wine, cheeks burning. It’s not like NOB is learning anything he doesn’t already think himself. “And he couldn’t have that with me. I wasn’t enough. So he left me.” It took only seconds to say the words that had haunted me for a year. I just want more, he’d told me, and in that instant the boy I’d loved became just another person telling me I wasn’t good enough.
NOB cocked his head at me.
“Ricky is a dick weasel.”
My laugh was strangled. “My friends call him Dicky.”
“Well, don’t look now, but Dicky’s spotted us. He’s coming over. Up you get.”
I straightened. Oh, no, oh, no. NOB topped up my glass just in time for Ricky and Jodi to appear at the edge of our table.
“Evie! I thought that was you. Ritchie wasn’t sure, but you’re hard to miss, aren’t you?”
I forced a smile at Jodi and made myself look at my old boyfriend. He’d upgraded his round tortoiseshell glasses for designer ones, and he’d changed his hair so that it was parted on one side and curled. Is that a perm? He smiled at me, showing the small, gappy teeth he’d always said he hated but which annoyingly made him look mischievous and fun.