Build a Man (21 page)

I don’t know
whether to be insulted or relieved. And I’m not sure I believe her,
either. “So why did you bother heading right to Jeremy’s without
telling me?”

Mia shrugs. “I
wanted a chance to build some rapport with him, in case things ever
go wrong between you two. Honestly, I was glad when you came in.
I’ve never met a more boring bloke. All that business about
building the house from scratch . . . whatever.”

“He’s not
boring,” I say, much louder than intended. “He’s one of the nicest
guys I’ve met here.”

A smirk nudges
up a corner of Mia’s mouth. “Sounds like someone has a little
crush. You’d best watch that, you know. It’s not good for
objectivity.”

“I don’t have a
crush,” I say, silently cursing the colour flooding into my cheeks.
Why on earth am I blushing?

“Reeeeeally.”
Mia raises an over-plucked ginger eyebrow. “Anyway, I’ve got to
go,” she says, dismissing me like I’m a plaything that’s now become
boring. “Oh, hello there, Jeremy. I was just leaving. Have a great
night.”

The door slams
behind her and I turn quickly, my heart in my throat. Jeremy? Just
how long has he been standing there? Please God, may he not have
heard the bit about the crush.

“Um, hi,
Jeremy.” My face must be almost purple now. “So Mia’s gone,” I
ramble foolishly, flinging an arm toward the door. “How about that
drink?” God knows I need it.

Jeremy’s lips
curve into his slow, crinkly smile. “Sure.”

I follow him
over to the kitchen and settle into my usual place at the table,
keeping my head down so my face can return to a state that wouldn’t
rival a radish. Maybe he didn’t hear anything, I tell myself. He
probably didn’t. We weren’t talking
that
loudly, right?

Jeremy hands me
another glass of wine and I take a giant gulp to calm my nerves.
Instead of sitting across the table, he settles onto the wide
wooden bench beside me, and I swivel to face him.

“Any big plans
for the weekend?” he asks.

“The usual.
Nothing.” I force a laugh to make the words seem less pathetic.

“I was
wondering if I could book you for an extra session and take you to
Borough Market with me tomorrow. So you can advise me on diet and
things like that,” he adds quickly.

“Sure, sounds
good. What exactly is Borough Market?”

Jeremy’s
eyebrows lift. “You’ve never heard of Borough Market? It’s
brilliant – I do my weekly shopping there every Saturday. Great for
foodies. You need to do some exploring of London. What else have
you seen? Have you been to Hampstead Heath?”

I shake my
head.

“Primrose
Hill?”

“Wait, I know
that one. That’s where Gwyneth Paltrow lives, right?”

He grins.
“Right. But did you know there’s also a fantastic view over the
city? And have you ever been to Greenwich?”

“No. I have a
lot of London to see, I guess.” His enthusiasm is infectious, and I
can’t wait to get out and discover more. When I first moved here, I
had grand plans to see every part of my new home. But with work and
Peter, somehow those fell by the wayside.

“Tell you what.
Why don’t I pick a London location to introduce you to each
weekend? I love showing off the city.”

“That would be
awesome – er, great!” I say, eager to leave the confines of
Marylebone and experience new bits of London with Jeremy. Peter
usually works on the weekends and he’s always saying he hates
‘tourist stuff’, anyway. And, of course, it’s all in the name of
duty. The more time I spend with Jeremy, the better my column will
be.

“It’s a deal
then. First up tomorrow: the market. They have the best coffee
there – Monmouth, my favourite.”

“What, you’re
not a tea drinker? I thought all Brits loved tea,” I joke.

Jeremy waves a
hand in the air. “Sod tea. If I need caffeine, I’m going for
coffee.”

Silence falls
as our laughter fades away, and the only thing I can concentrate on
is the warmth of his leg pressed against mine. As much as I know I
should, I can’t move away. I can barely breathe, let alone send any
commands to my body, which seems to have gone all gooey and
marshmallow-like. Ever so slowly, Jeremy leans closer and
closer.

So close I can
smell his musky, spicy scent. So close I can feel the bristle on
his skin. So close I–

The ringing of
my phone jerks us apart. I give my head a little shake and spring
to my feet. What the hell was that? It was like I was in a trance,
as if my body wasn’t my own. Well, whatever it was, it was just . .
. one of those things. I glance at Jeremy, who appears just as
confused as I feel.

“Hello?” My
voice is shaky, and I take a deep breath to steady myself.

“It’s me,”
Kirsty says. “You okay?”

“Fine, fine.
One sec.” I put a hand over the phone and turn to Jeremy. “I’ll
just be a minute,” I say, grateful for the chance to scoot into the
hallway and let my heart rate return to normal.

“So how was the
day?” I ask softly, knowing Kirsty would have faced Tim at
work.

“Terrible,” she
says. I can hear her sigh through the phone. “Tim didn’t come in
today or answer his phone. I got called into the director’s office
to talk about my ‘future plans’.”

“So what
are
you going to do?” I ask, hoping she’s got it all figured
out.

“I don’t know,”
Kirsty says. “I still love Tim, but this is too fast. I thought I
wanted it all, but now I just want to get away.”

Unsure how to
respond, I nod silently. It’s such a strange role reversal: usually
it’s me in a mess, uncertain what to do.

“Maybe some
time apart will do you both good,” I say finally, raising my voice
over the clanking of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. “And
whatever you decide, you know I’m here for you.”

“I know. Thank
God! Listen, what are you up to tomorrow? I have to work in the
morning, but do you want to meet for coffee around lunchtime?”

“I’m going with
Jeremy, a client,” – I throw in, in case he’s listening – “to
Borough Market. Just let me check and see how long we’ll be
there.”

I stick my head
into the kitchen, where Jeremy’s levering a huge chunk of pasta
into a pot of boiling water. Yum, I’m starving. “Jeremy? How long
do you think we might be tomorrow? A friend of mine wants to meet
up in the afternoon.”

He turns to
face me, clad in a plaid apron that should look silly, but just . .
. doesn’t. “Why doesn’t she join us down there for coffee?”

I tilt my head,
considering his words. Kirsty knows all about Jeremy and my
undercover mission, but I’m not sure I want the two of them to
meet. Still, I know she can keep her mouth shut when she needs to,
and it will be nice for Kirsty to see that what I’m doing isn’t
such a bad thing – I’m actually helping Jeremy, too.

I nod then lift
my hand from the phone. “Do you want to meet at the market at noon,
in front of Monmouth Coffee?” I say to Kirsty.

She agrees and
I hang up, then plonk down at the table.

“Ready to eat?”
Jeremy calls from the stove. A delicious garlic smell is drifting
through the air.

“Ready.” I
smile up at him as he hands me a plate then sits down across from
me. An image of
Lady and The Tramp
filters into my head,
where they slurp the same strand of pasta, drawing nearer and
nearer until . . . Get a grip, I tell myself. This isn’t a Disney
film, it’s reality. And the reality is, I’m hardly a ‘lady’ and
Jeremy, well, Jeremy’s
definitely
not a tramp.

“Crap, crap,
crap,” I mutter, dodging the throngs of people exiting Borough Tube
station. I’m supposed to meet Jeremy at ten this morning, and it’s
already five past. A bad night’s sleep fighting with my pillow as
Jeremy’s lips floated through my mind meant I’d awoken way too
late. Since I’m seeing him in my professional capacity, there’s no
way I could rock up without at least finding a pair of jeans free
from random air ventilation pockets (i.e. holes) and putting on a
touch of make-up. I must admit, advisory session or not, it
is
good to be doing something on a Saturday.

Pushing through
the turnstile, I catch sight of Jeremy looking fantastic in a dark
corduroy blazer and a pair of baggy jeans.

“Hi!” I shout,
raising a hand as I approach.

Jeremy smiles
warmly. “Hello. Ready to pick up some good, healthy food for the
new me? What’s that saying: you are what you eat?”

I nod, feeling
curiously hollow. So he really
did
ask me here in my
official role. Of course he did, I tell myself as we head away from
the packed station and down a busy street. Why else would he?

“Okay?” Jeremy
throws a look over his shoulder, then takes my hand and pulls me
along after him so we don’t lose each other in the crowd. I stare
down at his strong fingers gripping mine, mesmerised by the tan
colour of his skin against my pale hand.

A few minutes
later – my palm sweaty and my face hot – we reach an area stuffed
with people, food stalls, and smoking barbecues. The air is pungent
with the smell of cheese, fresh bread and meat, and I realise we’re
still holding hands. I drop his quickly and rub my nose,
fabricating an itch.

“Here we are!
Borough Market. Why don’t we grab a sausage, get something sweet,
and have a picnic?” Jeremy asks.

“That sounds
fantastic,” I respond, before remembering I’m supposed to be
guiding him toward healthy eats. “But that’s not exactly food for
life, Jeremy.” God, I sound like Peter. He’s always talking about
sausage like it needs to be burned at the stake.

“Ah, we can get
the ‘food for life’ later.” Jeremy shrugs.

Well, if the
man wants a sausage, who am I to complain? It’s been ages since
I’ve had one. I trail after him toward the smoking barbecue where
plump sausages are grilling. Jeremy hands me a bun dripping with
onions and sauce, then worms his way over to an organic chocolate
brownie vendor, grabs two, and leads us to an empty space in the
nearby courtyard of a church. We sink down onto the stones and I
tilt my face upwards, feeling the warmth of the autumn sun and
taking in the robin’s-egg blue sky. What a gorgeous day. When I
turn back to Jeremy, I catch him staring and he quickly drops his
eyes.

“So.” He
gestures toward the buzzing market stalls. “What do you think?”

“It’s
fantastic,” I say, meaning it. “I can’t believe I’ve never been
here.”

Jeremy bites
into his bun, nodding as he chews. “Me neither,” he says once he’s
swallowed. “Just wait until you see Hampstead Heath – it’s like a
piece of wilderness in the city. You can even swim there. Maybe
we’ll head over next weekend.”

“That would be
great,” I say, suddenly feeling shy. It’s so nice of him to show me
around London.

We chew
companionably for a few minutes, then explore more stalls under a
giant metal awing, me pushing random veggies at Jeremy in a bid to
appear like I know what I’m doing. Then, before I know it, it’s
almost noon and time to meet Kirsty. I can’t believe how quickly
time has flown – and how much fun I’m having. Jeremy leads me over
to Monmouth Coffee, where a line snakes down the pavement and the
heady scent of coffee beans taints the air.

“There she is!”
I wave an arm at Kirsty, who’s waiting just out front. Nerves leap
inside me for a second, but I tell myself it will all be okay.
Kirsty knows the deal, and she’s good at keeping secrets when she
needs to.

“Hey.” She
gives me a quick hug, then pulls back and runs her eyes over
Jeremy. I take the time to study her face, my heart sinking as I
note the dark circles under her eyes and the pale complexion.

“Kirsty, this
is Jeremy,” I say. “Jeremy, Kirsty.”

Jeremy holds
out a hand politely. “Nice to meet you.”

We join the
back of the line, Kirsty and Jeremy chatting easily about how long
we’ve known each other and our hometown back in Maine.

“So Serenity’s
really helped you, huh?” Kirsty asks when they’ve exhausted our
two-street town.

Jeremy nods.
“Oh, definitely – everything from wardrobe, to dating, to getting
psyched up for treatments.” He shudders. “I really hate hospitals
and needles. My younger sister had leukaemia, and she was in and
out of the hospital a lot. She lost the battle, in the end.”

“Oh, I’m
sorry.” Kirsty touches his arm.

“I’m sorry,
too,” I echo. Poor Jeremy; I can’t believe he didn’t tell me that.
God, he must
really
want to change to endure all the
hospital visits in his future.

“It was ages
ago now, but I still miss her. All those years in the hospital . .
. I don’t like to go to one, even today. It’s why I’ve waited so
long to have cosmetic surgery, even though I’ve wanted to for a
while now.”

Kirsty and I
nod, and a sombre silence falls as we shuffle forward in the
line.

Jeremy’s mobile
rings and he turns away to answer it.

Kirsty leans
closer to me. “Ser, you can’t
really
believe Jeremy needs
all this surgery stuff. He’s actually quite good-looking. Sure, he
could lose a little weight, but he has a nice face.”

The memory of
just how nice his face is up close floods into my head, and I can
feel my cheeks getting hot. I shrug nonchalantly to cover it up.
“If it makes him feel better, what’s the problem?”

Kirsty stares.
“What’s the problem? The problem is that he’s basically risking his
life for nothing.”

I snort at her
melodrama. “He’s not risking his life.”
I hope.
I make a
mental note to talk to Peter about that one later. “And it’s his
decision.”

She shakes her
head. “Maybe. But I can’t help thinking it’s a little unethical for
doctors to perform surgeries on patients who clearly don’t need
it.”