Page 80 of The Girlfriend Clause
“Um, I’m not—”
“We’re waiting next door,” said Eliza. “Just in case.”
“Okay.”
Eliza and James went up to pay and scurried out.
Fuck. Did I have time to dash into the bathroom? Did I have mints?
Dammit! I didn’t like the arrogant prick. Not one bit.So why was I checking my teeth in ateaspoon?
The bell over the café door jingled. My stomach dropped. Too late.
Chapter 17
Liam
I don’t knowwhat I’d been expecting when I’d asked Siri to direct me here, but it definitely wasn’t this. Not cinnamon and hairballs.Maybe velvet curtains andsequins?
Instead, mismatched china teacups clinked, lace doilies sagged under crumb-strewn plates, and at least seven cats scattered as I pushed open the door. A laminated sign by the entrance announced, “Please refrain from frightening Lady Lucinda’s residents—may scratch if distressed.”
Was I even in the rightplace?
I hadn’t been out to this part of London for years, and it was pure coincidence I’d been in the area on the way back from a meeting in Shoreditch.
I reached into my pocket to check my phone—no, that was what she’d said. I had the name right. Jesus Christ.
I scanned the room for Andrea. Small groups, mostly women, were sitting around, chuckling and drinking tea. For a split second, everyone stopped talking and turned to look at me. Someone actuallyshushedtheir friend mid-sentence. The lady behind the front desk almost stood to attention, likeshe’d been trained to expect this exact intrusion—The Wrong Sort of Man.
To my right I heard a faint tinkling sound—a teaspoon bounced across the floor toward me, and a cat trotted after it like this was the floor show.
There she was, sitting near the back on a red leather couch.
She stood quickly, and more cats scattered.Why the hell were there catseverywhere?
“Andrea … hi.”
She was tugging at her hair, which appeared to be tied up into some sort of knot. Half of it fell free, and she pulled both her arms back to her sides like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. She looked annoyingly stunning, considering she was covered in cat hair.
“Oh. You’re here,” she said.
“Yes.”
We stared at each other, about ten feet between us.
A waitress appeared at my shoulder. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“Scotch and soda, please.”
She sighed, very slightly. “We’ve got red wine, white wine, or beer.”
Right.
“Or tea.”
“Tea, then, please.”
“We have Purrl Gray, Cheshire Chai, Nine Lives Lapsang, Lavender Dreamtime, or our house special—Catnip Infusion.”
