The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [128]
As if she were in some terrible dream, Alice walked away. She closed the door quietly on her way out.
Chapter Twenty-eight
He didn’t call. Not that night, guilt stricken, or the morning after, sober and faintly embarrassed. The week passed without a single word, not even a halfhearted attempt to laugh the whole thing off. Julian simply disappeared, and every day that passed, Alice felt her affection for him fade a little more. Confusion and hurt soon cemented into anger. She couldn’t understand—their friendship might not have mattered enough to stop him reaching for her in one vodka-soaked impulse, but surely he cared enough to try and repair the damage?
Apparently not.
“Oh, I thought you’d be out with Nathan.” Flora appeared in the living room on Friday night, her gray cardigan drooping in soft folds around her body.
Alice looked up from the pile of contracts she was attempting to speed through. “No, he’s off in Switzerland again.”
Flora gave a pale smile. “Chasing rogue investors through the Alps?”
“More like filing paperwork with uncooperative banking officials.” Alice pulled a face. “Not quite so glamorous, granted. But he will bring back those Lindt truffles you like so much.”
“Great.” Flora let out a sigh. “So, do you want to watch a film, or something? I’ve been in my studio so long, I’m sick of the place.”
“Maybe later.” Alice shot her a distracted smile. “I need to get these finished.”
Flora wandered closer. “Anything exciting?”
“Not in the least.” Alice felt a surge of resentment. “Vivienne has decided that our entire boilerplate contract needs reconstructing. By next week.”
Flora’s eyes widened. “Will you manage in time?”
“I’ll have to,” Alice replied shortly. “Otherwise she’ll start talking about how I can’t manage both of my roles.”
Even the memory of Vivienne’s smug look as she deposited her notes—full of red ink and illegible scribbles—made Alice want to growl with frustration. She would have thought that bringing commissions and credibility to the agency would give Vivienne some satisfaction, but it seemed Alice was still overreaching her natural position and needed to be frequently reminded of her true place.
“Well”—Flora drifted back toward the door—“let me know when you’re done.”
“Will do.” Alice returned to the dense page of co-representation clauses, but she couldn’t focus. It felt like wasted time to her, sitting around while there were other, more pressing matters to attend to. Nathan may be gone, but that just meant that she had a convenient opportunity to be out with somebody else. Toying with her mobile, she deliberated the call she was just itching to make: Carl. She had played it cool so far, not wanting to scare him off, but he had yet to ask her on a real date, and those coffee breaks and casual conversations weren’t yielding anything useful about Kate Jackson. Alice even offered up a small tragedy of her own, inventing a dead brother in the hopes of eliciting some confidence, but still, Carl hadn’t mentioned Kate. Clearly, she needed to step up her game.
Dialing, Alice settled into what she thought of as the person Carl knew: shy, sweet, and just as awkward as he was. “Hi…Hello?” she asked hesitantly, when he answered on the second ring. “Carl? It’s Ella. From Starbucks,” she added, as if she weren’t sure he’d remember.
“Ella, ah, hi.” Carl sounded flustered.
“Is it OK I called? Is this a bad time?”
“No! No, it’s fine,” Carl reassured her. “Uh, how are you?”
“I’m good.” Alice left an awkward pause. “And you?”
“I’m fine.”
Another pause.
“I, um, I was wondering if you were free this weekend at all.” Alice spoke quickly, running her words together. “There’s a Lord of the Rings showing at the BFI. If you want,” she added hurriedly. “But…it’s fine, if you have plans, or you just…don’t want to.”
“Oh, that sounds great.” Carl sounded conflicted. “But I’m actually down in Cornwall right now,