There’s silence as Seb digests my words.
“You’re a good advocate,” he says at last. “Have you ever thought of going into law?”
“I can’t spell,” I say honestly, and Seb throws back his head in laughter.
“Well, you’ve sold me. Do I get to meet … Ryan, is it?”
“He’s waiting round the corner,” I say eagerly. “He’s got his CV with him. I’ll text him to come here, shall I?”
I send the text and there’s a slightly awkward silence. Seb says, “I’ll make some more coffee,” and gets up from his desk.
He’s gone for a while and I can hear him talking in a distant room. I don’t try to catch what he’s saying and I clamp my hands by my sides before I can straighten any more precious vases.
I’m feeling a touch jittery about Seb and Ryan meeting. I hope Ryan is open with Seb. I hope he doesn’t get defensive and try to show off in that way he does sometimes. I hope he shows the real, thoughtful Ryan. The bruised, humble Ryan who’s learned some tough lessons and wants to start again, however much work it takes. The Ryan I know.
As Seb comes back in, I jump. “He should be here any minute,” I say.
“Great.” Seb smiles, but it’s not with the warmth he had before, and there’s another awkward beat.
I’m desperately longing for Ryan to appear—and when at last he steps in through the door, my heart catches. With his blond hair and tan he looks like a movie star, and he greets Seb with a dazzling smile, lifting his hand for a high-five. When Seb doesn’t respond but extends his hand for a traditional, businesslike handshake, Ryan doesn’t flicker. He simply shakes Seb’s hand as though that’s what he meant to do all along.
“So you’re the mystery man,” he greets Seb, in that charming way he has.
“I might say the same of you,” replies Seb pleasantly. I can see he’s determined to be positive, and I feel a wave of gratitude toward him. He could have chucked me out, but here he is, giving Ryan a chance. “Fixie tells me you’re interested in our junior research role.”
“Oh, this is all down to Fixie.” Ryan laughs. “She saved your company or whatever, so I guess you owe her some serious payback.”
I wince inside and hastily chime in, “I never said that!”
“Well, I’d be glad to have a chat,” says Seb. “You’ve been working in Hollywood, I understand?”
“Hollywood.” Ryan winces. “Have you ever been there? Don’t. It’s full of two-faced, double-crossing snakes. This time a month ago I was sitting in the Chateau Marmont—you know the Chateau Marmont?”
“I don’t, I’m afraid,” says Seb politely.
I can’t help cringing. I wish Ryan wouldn’t name-drop. I mean, I understand it—he’s defensive and he can’t help compensating. But he doesn’t need to. I glance at Seb, hoping he’ll understand that Ryan’s just insecure.
“Well, it all fell into place,” says Ryan. “I understood my life, just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “I was in the wrong city, wrong country, wrong career. I had two options. Grind my way on … or cut my losses.” He spreads his arms and addresses Seb directly. “So here I am and I need to start again. Whatever it takes.”
“I see.” Seb seems to be taking this in. “And you really think ethical investment is the right area for you?”
There’s silence. Ryan’s blue eyes are flickering to Seb and to me and around the office as though he’s weighing up what to say.
“Look,” he says finally. “I don’t know. I don’t know all the answers. I thought film producing was for me. I was wrong. All I can say is, if you can give me a chance, if you can help me back on that ladder … then I’ll pay you back, I’ll work my ass off, and I’ll appreciate it forever.”
He sounds so passionate, so humble, that I want to cheer. This is the Ryan I love—the honest, heartfelt Ryan who’s had some knocks but won’t give up.
Sebastian’s face has softened during Ryan’s speech. Now he looks as though he has real sympathy for him.
“Knock-backs happen to everyone,” he says. “And I should imagine Hollywood isn’t the most straightforward place. Good for you, for wanting to start again. I mean, there’ll be a lot for you to learn.…”
“I’m happy to learn,” says Ryan emphatically. “I want to learn. And you know what? Maybe some of what I picked up in the film world can help you too.”
Seb is silent a moment, eyeing Ryan up and down. Then he seems to come to a decision. “I’m going to bring in my head of research, Alison, if you don’t mind,” he says. “I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”
“I’ll be going, then,” I say hastily. “You need to talk properly about … everything. Have a great chat. And thank you,” I add to Seb. “Thank you so much.” On impulse, I pick up the coffee-cup sleeve from where it’s still lying on the desk. I grab a pen and write Paid, followed by the date. “More than,” I say, as I give it to him. “More than paid.”
“Well, thank you.” Seb’s eyes crinkle as he reads it. “I appreciate it.”
“See you later,” says Ryan to me. “We’re meeting at Six Folds Place, yeah? Are you a member of Six Folds Place?” he adds to Seb. “The private members’ club?”
“No,” says Seb. “That kind of thing isn’t really my scene.”
“Fair enough,” says Ryan quickly. “It’s all pretty fake.”
“But Thai food is.” Sebastian’s eyes light up and he turns to me. “I was wondering if you could give the details of that restaurant you mentioned?”
“Of course!” I say.
His business card is still attached to the coffee sleeve, with his mobile number on it, so I quickly text him the contact details for the restaurant. I know I’m not the one being interviewed here—but even so, I feel like the more helpful I am, the better for Ryan.
“Thanks,” says Sebastian, smiling at me. “Well, I guess I’ll go and get Alison. Bye, Fixie.”
“Bye,” I say, and shake his hand, feeling suddenly shy. “And thanks again. Thanks so much.”
As Seb heads out of the room, I glance up at Ryan, feeling a burst of joy. He’s got a job! He’s staying in London!
“You did it!” I whisper.
“You did it.” He grins at me, glances around to check we’re still alone, then pulls me in for a kiss. And I close my eyes for a moment, letting myself relax for the first time in days. No more worries! Ryan’s here for good!
And I don’t want to be needy. I don’t want to say, “What does this mean for us?” in some pushy way, before we’ve even left the office. But on the other hand, why else did I make all this effort?
“So I guess things are … different now?” I venture. “For us? Now that you’re staying?”
I feel a beat of fear that Ryan will say, “What do you mean?” or “We need to talk,” or something else utterly crushing. But he doesn’t. Instead, he gently cups my face with his hands, his eyes shining with an exhilaration that mirrors mine.
“I guess they are, Fixie,” he says, and I can hear the happiness in his voice too. “I guess they are.”
Ten
I’ve been to 6 Folds Place a few times with Jake, and it’s really, really expensive. Even the doormen look expensive, all chiseled and handsome and dressed in dark-gray polo necks with intimidating expressions that seem to say, “Are you sure you belong here, because you don’t look like it to us, now fuck off home.”
I mean, they have a point. I don’t belong here. My £19.99 shoes certainly don’t belong here. But this place is Jake’s spiritual home and he’s invited me, so the doormen are stuck with me. (And my shoes.)
I know Jake and Leila are inside already, but I haven’t gone in yet. I’m standing on the pavement, texting Ryan, blissfully lost in our stream of messages.
Everything’s going so wonderfully, I can’t quite believe it.
I hadn’t heard anything from him all afternoon, so I texted him a few minutes ago: Hope interview went well! A moment or two later he replied:
Great!
So I texted him again: Fantastic! You’ll be boss before you know it!
And I was going to leave it there. But then I thought, maybe it’s easier to address the situation by text than face-to-face? Maybe I should say the things I want to say? So I plucked up all my courage and typed:
What now?
In case he didn’t understand what I meant, I sent a quick follow-up:
Where are you going to live now that you have a job? Because the offer’s open to come to mine.
I sent it, then worried that I was being too pushy. So I sent a quick additional text:
Only if you want to.
There was silence for a while. I stared at the screen breathlessly, my heart thudding, my fingers clenching the phone, waiting … waiting …
And then it happened! The miracle! He replied:
Totally. Awesome. Let’s make it happen. Soon!
That’s what he actually wrote. I’ve read it about twenty times, to make sure. He wants to move in with me. Ryan Chalker wants to move in with me!
I mean, in some ways it’s no surprise. I’ve felt like we’re on a more stable footing ever since he said he wished I’d come back to L.A. with him. Even so, I hadn’t realized quite how tense I was, how fearful that I was misreading everything. But the evidence is here in my phone. In black-and-white. He wants to commit. He wants to take things to the next level. He wants everything I want!
I should go into the club—I’m already late—but I can’t bear to break off our correspondence, even though I know he’s on the way here. My fingers are moving speedily over the keys as I pour my heart out: