I turn to Tristan, smirking. “Although at least it’s not tidy enough for them to spend the night.”
I’ve officially handed responsibility for Mum and Callie over to Tristan. It wasn’t a difficult choice for them, with options being sharing Julie’s sofa or a wing of Tristan’s mansion.
He opens the fridge and takes out a batch of tiny canopies.
“What are these?” I eye the yellow jellylike substance suspiciously.
“Golden beet and elderflower jelly,” he explains as if it should be obvious.
Don’t be fooled; these are no shop-bought canopies. These have been bespoke designed for Tristans’s tastes by an exclusive caterer.
Mum prattles off every detail about our day, explaining things she has learned about Big Ben, Houses of Parliament, and the St James’ Park swans as if these people didn’t live in London.
They politely listen and murmur approval and disapproval at the right times during the storytelling.
Callie and I hang back, relieved she is taking the limelight. My eyes stray to Danny, and as if he can feel it, he moves his focus from Mum to me, his eyebrows raising slightly.
I feel my cheeks heat and avert my gaze.
“You have to try these lobster rolls,” Rebecca gushes, passing the plate to us.
Mum shakes her head at Tristan. “When are you going to find a nice woman to cook for you,
Tristan?”
“I already have two.” He smiles in amusement. “My lovely Mum and my delightful cook,
Natalia.”
“No,” she replies crossly. “Someone you don’t have to pay. A wife. I’m never going to get a day out.”
“You’ve already had a day out, Mum.” He mutters darkly. “It didn’t work out, remember?”
No, it didn’t work out. If God made a new person from a serial killer and the girl from the Exorcist, that would be Tristan’s ex-wife Gemina.
“Isn’t that a bit sexist?” I point out, spearing a piece of lobster and shoving it into my mouth, “What if Tristan’s new mystery wife is a terrible cook?”
“She couldn’t be any worse than you.” She shakes her head at me, and Tristan grabs me around the neck in a hug. “Your cooking drives them all away.”
“That’s true.” Callie pipes up. “If Charlie had a dinner party, everyone would leave in coffins.”
“How rude,” I mutter back, fixing my hair from the bird’s nest Tristan created with his jostling.
Honestly, I’m not five years old; you’d think he’d realise he can’t play the same games with me.
“So when are you finding a wife?” Jack’s eyes twinkle in amusement at Tristan.
“Don’t start this in front of Mum.” Tristan sighs, shooting him a warning look. “I’ll never hear the end of it now.”
“It is hard to believe that London’s most handsome eligible man is still single.” Rebecca smiles. “And you too, Jack.” She prods him in the ribs.
“Make it a hat-trick,” Tristan says. “Walker too.”
My mouth falls open in surprise, and I snap it shut before anyone can notice.
Danny Walker is now single?
The air feels weighted as we all study him with interest.
“No, Danny!” Mum slaps her hands over her mouth like this is the worst news she’s ever heard. “What about beautiful Jen? Surely you didn’t let her go?” Way to go, Mum. Great wing woman.
He clears his throat. “Sorry to disappoint, Mrs. Finnegan.” “When did that happen?” I ask quietly.
“Last Friday night,” he answers me coolly, face on.
The corners of his mouth quirk into a light smile as my mind ticks over and a silent acknowledgement passes between us.
He split up with Jen on the night we made out. I have so many questions.
Did he split up with her over me? Was it before or after we made out? Was I wrong about him? “Oh.” I whisper, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says darkly.
“What are you looking for, Danny?” Rebecca asks curiously. He turns to her. “When I find it, I’ll let you know.” They laugh even though it’s not particularly funny.
I don’t laugh. I knew what he was saying.
It’s not you.
I’m a fumble in the toilet, not a serious proposition. Not a girlfriend. Or a wife.
“You’ve never wanted to get married again, Danny?” Mum asks.
“Careful, Mrs. Finnegan.” Karl chuckles. “He has a soft spot for you.”
“How could I not.” Danny flashes her a grin. “She’s like a second Mum.”
I frown. That makes our fumbles sound a bit incestuous. Not to mention a shrewd tactic of question avoidance.
“I know!” Rebecca pipes up. “This is perfect timing. One of our senior lawyers has been begging me for a date with the Danny Walker. She couldn’t believe her luck when I said I knew you! She’s 6 foot, beautiful, and extremely sharp. Mara. 35, Just the perfect age for you, Danny. Shall I set it up?” She looks at him excitedly.
My breath hitches, and a surge of jealousy soars through me.
No. Don’t do this in front of me.
Tristan sucks in sharply. “I don’t know about this, Becks. She’s one of our best lawyers. I’m always nervous about mixing Danny’s pleasure with my business. I don’t want it to end in tears”
“They are perfect for each other, Tristan.” Rebecca scolds. “Don’t stand in the way.”
“Mara is very hot,” Tristan agrees as he hands Danny a scotch. “You’ll fall for her as soon as you see her. She’s your ideal woman.”
I stare transfixed at my jellied lobster canopy concoction. Humiliating is not a strong enough word for this situation.
He takes the scotch and raises it to his mouth, lingering over it.
“Sure,” he replies.
“Fantastic.” Rebecca squeals, getting out her phone. “I’ll text her now.” Damn you, Rebecca. I put down the lobster tail. My appetite is ruined.