And I’m not going to admit to knowing which side he dresses on, even if Charles asks.
‘Some people have all the luck. While you were watching a beautiful man being touched, I ’ad to add ’z final touches to a birthday party for twelve Pekinese.’
‘That sounds like so much fun,’ giggles Fee.
‘Not when I tell you what the cake is made from.’ His nose wrinkles with distaste as he stands to top up our glasses.
‘Nope, you’ve got that wrong. My job is much worse. I have to look daily into the face of the man I have to remind myself I’m no longer allowed to love. The way things are going, Remy will be calling me to his office next just to pick up his dropped pen.’
‘Yes, and you will bend over, and he will make like this!’ From the other side of the coffee table, Charles thrusts his hips lewdly.
And in a nutshell, that is how the rest of the evening goes.
‘Rose, before you go . . .’
Week three post-Remy, I pause at the door following lunch number twelve, meeting number twenty-four, by my count, because there have been no accidental meetings in the hallways and mumbled greetings. No awkwardness, not beyond the tailor’s visit, at least.
I let go of the handle and turn as though I’m about to face a firing squad.
Oh, Lord. I know what’s coming. I bite the insides of my lips as I try not to smile.
‘Yes?’
‘I wanted to ask you about this.’ He pulls on a drawer in his desk, reaching deep inside.
I can explain, maybe I ought to say, but I won’t. Because I wouldn’t know where to start. Plus, I wouldn’t be standing here all calm and shit, instead I’d be garbling and red-cheeked because I’ve been dreading this moment since I woke up and realised what I’d done. But it’s been almost three weeks since I placed the order.
I was hoping it might’ve gotten lost in the mail.
Angry girl music, a bottle of Sauvignon, and a credit card were my naughty companions following a particularly trying day at work where Olga called me into her office to tell me I’d be “taking care” of Remy exclusively while making it sound like I was to be his personal harlot. Then Charles wouldn’t quit badgering me, asking what misdemeanour I’d committed to be summoned to her office. Like I said, a very trying day which ended when I basically went home and . . . got shit-faced. I woke on the couch in the morning, my emergency credit card unearthed from the depths of my purse and an email from an Etsy store congratulating me on my purchase of a twelve-inch chocolate penis, along with my selected upgrade of a dip-dye in edible purple glitter, which I’d presumed I’d chosen for old times’ sake.
It’s basically a go fuck yourself gift that you can eat. Or choke on, I suppose is closer to the sentiment. In fact, that’s what I’d opted for the card to read, for the grand sum of an extra two euros. I even got a free bag of gummy dicks so I can gift someone with the words: choke on a bag of dicks. Go on, literally.
In my drunken state, I’d even managed to input Remy’s work address correct. So, when he subsequently pulls out a plain brown box from the depths of one of his desk drawers, and settles it on the desk between us, I know what’s coming.
Yes, the chocolate penis.
Is coming.
‘This . . .’ Something ripples across his face. I’m going to go with humour. ‘Is from you, I believe.’
I nod, my lip-biting doing nothing to smother my smile. ‘Don’t pull it out on my account.’
His eyebrow quirks at my unintentional innuendo, his gaze lingering almost speculatively. This wasn’t the exchange I had in mind when I ordered the man a purple penis, I’m sure. It isn’t an angry anthem made in the flesh, or rather confectionary, and more like a reminder of how we got together. In the end, he avoids the cheap laughs.
‘It’s quite an art project,’ he says, turning the thing in his hand as he examines it. ‘Is it modelled on anyone anatomically?’
‘Who knows,’ I answer airily.
‘It does have very impressive detailing.’
‘Someone takes their work very seriously.
‘And purple.’ As his eyes rise to meet mine, merriment dances there. ‘Like forget-me-nots. Not that I’m likely to forget.’ Ask he speaks, he grazes a finger across his left brow where a sliver of a reminder