The Partnership (Callaghan Green Series Book 10) Read online

  “You okay?” I stuck my fingers over my other ear to dim the noise and sent Seph and apologetic look. He was watching me with what looked like interest.

  “You don’t need to go into panic mode every time I call you, you know.” Her tone was judging.

  “I don’t.”

  “Bullshit. Anyway, my date was a wash out, so I’m heading home. Want to get take out and open that wine?”

  “I’m having a couple of drinks after work, so when I get back with Rose, sure.”

  I waited for the bomb to drop on my sister’s ear.

  “You’re having drinks after work?”

  “Right now, yes.”

  “Holy fuck. Why don’t I go straight to collect Rose and you stay out? It’s been – how long – since you’ve been out after eight in the evening?”

  The excitement in her voice was almost palpable. I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or concerned about how bad her date had actually been.

  “Sure, but I’ll be back just after eight.” I looked at Seph who was still beside me, which meant I couldn’t explain why I wasn’t taking advantage.

  “Make it later. Socialise with your colleagues. Maybe even meet a handsome gentleman who can whisk you off your feet. At least one of us could get lucky.”

  I heard a sigh. Later I’d be getting a long tale about how bad her date actually was.

  “We’ll talk about it when I get home.”

  “Good.” She hung up, probably so I couldn’t change my mind.

  Seph nudged the cocktail closer to me. “Your sister?”

  I nodded, finally picking up the drink and having a taste of sweet alcohol. “Her date was a wash out.”

  “Early in the day for a date.”

  “I think it was an afternoon thing, some activity which was never going to end well. Liv likes to put men through their paces.” Truth. Liv was probably most men’s nightmare of a girlfriend, unless they were into being bossed about and possibly whipped.

  Seph looked thoughtful. “Maybe we should set her up with my cousin.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “A manwhore who works as a paediatrician. He lives with me at the moment – when he’s not working or out on his nights off.”

  I shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

  Max walked over with his arm around his wife, looking more relaxed than I’d seen him before. He introduced us, made a comment to Seph about his jacket, and then we were surrounded by another half dozen people, and for an hour I forgot about the pots in the sink and the pile of ironing and the washing that needed doing. I was just Georgia.

  Or as Seph called me - Georgie.

  Chapter Seven

  Seph

  My cousins were bad influences.

  Despite planning a quiet night in with a take-out and a binge watch of the Rocky movies, I was sitting at a table in Arthur Hooper’s in Borough Market with Shay next to me and Maven and Imogen opposite, a restaurant that specialised in selling small plates, and we’d already eaten a couple of dozen with more to come. It was meant to be a quick drink only; Shay had just come off a seventy-two hour stretch at the hospital and from what little he’d said, his shift had been gruelling. I knew he’d lost a patient, and I could tell when he got home that he needed a distraction other than watching shit on TV.

  Two of his sisters were already planning on some big night out. Maven and Immy had both moved over from New York just after Shay. Maven was a theatre director, Imogen another solicitor who had worked for the Callaghan Green office in New York until she’d decided she wanted a change and was starting for us in London next month. Both were single and I had a feeling this meal was the stomach lining for what was going to be a big night out.

  “Maven has a date on Tuesday.” Immy looked at Shay. “With a doctor.”

  Shay raised a brow but didn’t say anything as his mouth was too full of food. I doubted he was actually bothered that his sister had a date with a doctor, he was probably just glad that she had a date full stop after coming out of what had been a crap relationship.

  “Doctor of what?” I had just about finished eating. I had my eye on a plate of Padron peppers that’d just been delivered to the table next to us, and some chorizo. I just needed to digest some of what I’d inhaled first.

  “Medical doctor,” Maven said, her fingers running up and down the stem of her glass. “Cardiologist.”

  Shay swallowed and took a gulp of beer. “If he breaks your heart, he should be able to fix it then.”

  Maven shook her head. “Bad joke.”

  “Glad you’re finally testing the water again.” Shay reached over to where a plate of chilli prawns were pretty much untouched. “’Bout time.”

  “How about you, Shay-mus. Any dates on the horizon?” Imogen folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at her brother.

  I knew that look. I’d seen it given by both Payton and Claire. It was shared when they’d heard about too many one-night stands, or seen my photo in too many pictures on social media with a woman they’d never seen before.

  Shay just grinned and devoured another huge prawn.

  “How about you, Seph?” Imogen’s eyes turned on me.

  She wasn’t officially working in our office yet, not as a London partner. Her cases were still ones from the New York office and as she dealt with corporate law and a lot of international stuff that I stayed away from, I wasn’t up-to-date with what she was doing.

  “I hear you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.” Immy smiled broadly and I cursed her spending time with my sisters.

  Shay spluttered next to me.

  I shook my head. “I haven’t taken a vow of celibacy. I’m just being picky about who I spend time with.”

  Shay spluttered again.

  “When’s the last time you had sex?” He elbowed me.

  I shrugged. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have time. I heard you have a new office-mate who’s a bit pretty though.”

  The muscles in my back stiffened.

  “Yeah. Georgia’s the new partner.” And she was pretty. More than pretty as I’d noticed several times already this week.

  I’d had to watch myself staring at her hair. Apart from Monday, she’d worn it down every day, the dark red waves cascading down her back and occasionally over her shoulder. I’d wanted to push it away from her face, find out if it felt as silky as it looked.

  There were other things I’d noticed too; just because I wasn’t tapping every female that was interested in me, didn’t mean I didn’t still have eyes.

  Georgia was curvy. I’d noticed her ass when she bent over to pick up whatever she dropped in the office, the pants she wore fitted enough to give me a good idea of what those curves were like. Her shirts gave me hints of what was underneath and, I felt bad for it, but I had considered too often what they were concealing. There had been more than a couple of occasions when I’d caught myself staring at her across our office, wondering what she had on under those suits, whether it was plain and simple, or lacy and yeah, I tried not to let my mind go there.

  Totally inappropriate. Max would chop my balls off if he could read my mind and not for the first time, I was glad he couldn’t.

  Shay grinned. “Maybe you could introduce me. Everyone keeps saying that I need to date, and the only chance I have of dating is through one of you, because I can’t date anyone from the hospital.”

  “That’s because he’s already slept with them all.” Immy popped a prawn in her mouth and gestured to the waiter.

  More food and probably drinks were on their way. That was no bad thing, except I wasn’t drinking tonight. We had a rugby game tomorrow, which meant a few pints afterwards, and there was a family Sunday lunch after that, which meant everyone who wasn’t pregnant would be drinking, including my mother.

  “I haven’t slept with them all. I just wouldn’t date another nurse or doctor.” Shay sat back.

  “Why’s that?” I turned my head to look
at him.

  He shrugged. “Because it doesn’t work.”

  I didn’t press any more. There was a story there, but Shay wouldn’t ever mention anything about any relationships that he might’ve had, or not had.

  “What’s Georgia like?” Imogen smiled at the waiter as he headed off, more food and a pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea ordered. “I’ve only seen her briefly this week.”

  “She’s really good. I think she’s going to be a huge asset to the department.” I was pretty much quoting Jackson.

  Immy frowned. “What’s she like as a person? She has the most amazing hair.”

  “What’s it like?” Maven asked.

  This was such a girl question.

  I could answer it, but probably not in the way Imogen was going to.

  “Really long and thick. And it’s this gorgeous dark ginger colour.” She looked at me. “She seems really serious.”

  “I suppose she is.” I’d seen her smile a few times and relax more as the week had gone on, and caught her lighting up at her phone when a message had come through.

  “Is she married or single?” Immy was gossip hunting now.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know? You’ve been working with her for a week in the same office.” She sounded incredulous.

  “Because… because… I don’t think she likes talking about her personal life.” It was true. I hadn’t gotten the vibes that she wanted to talk about herself. “She isn’t wearing a wedding ring though.”

  “But you noticed that?”

  I was pretty sure Imogen should’ve gone into prosecution.

  “We’ve been working together. She doesn’t wear any rings; I’d have noticed them when we were going through files.” I’d looked. Without thinking about it, I’d looked.

  “Maybe we should organise a girls’ night or something,” Imogen said.

  The idea of it filled me with horror.

  “What would that involve?” Shay sat up a bit straighter. “I’ve always wanted to be invited to a girls’ night.”

  “The reason why you’ve not is in its name.” Maven rolled her eyes. “And whatever you’re thinking, it isn’t like that.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “But…”

  “If anyone of your fuckbuddies have told you that we sit around wearing skimpy pyjamas, braiding each other’s hair, they were just trying to get you in the mood.” Maven shook her head at him. “I may have described the same thing to an ex.”

  It was Shay’s turn to look disgusted. “Do I need to murder that ex?”

  “No.” Maven dragged out the syllable. “Just the last one. You should know that when we do have a girls’ night, we discuss penis sizes, compare experiences, complain about men and evaluate the best vibrators. So, if you’ve pissed off a couple of your nurses, then be warned: they’ll have compared notes.”

  Shay didn’t looked worried.

  “You playing tomorrow?” He looked at me.

  I nodded, thankful to move the conversation away from Georgia, although as we started talking more about Eli’s recent run of form, my mind stayed on her.

  I woke to the vibrating of my phone.

  At some point, some sense had crept into my head, and I’d set night mode to finish at eight on a weekend morning, so that the early morning group messages didn’t wake me up.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. Eight-oh-two. Unsurprising. I pulled the phone off my bedside table, forgetting it was on charge as it met resistance and cursing. The sound of voices echoed through from the hallway and I heard murmurs thanking someone for last night and then the sound of the door click.

  Shay, unsurprisingly, hadn’t come home alone. I’d left him, Maven and Immy in a bar with a couple of Shay’s colleagues, one a paramedic who was chatting up Imogen, the other a surgeon or something.

  I’d headed home around eleven, catching an Uber and looking at the messages sent between me and Georgie during the week.

  Hope you’re having a good weekend after your first week.

  I’d pressed send after overthinking it for a few minutes and had stared at my phone to see if she responded quickly.

  She hadn’t. For all I knew, she could’ve been with a boyfriend or a lover or she could’ve been out at a club. It bothered me that I didn’t know, and not just because of what Immy had said.

  Before opening the family group message, which was now up to five unread, I opened the response from her which was now there, sent at seven this morning.

  Sorry! Had an early night and just seen this. Was recovering from Friday. First time in ages I’ve had drinks after work. Great first week; thank you for your support.

  It didn’t really invite a response back. And she’d used a semi-colon in her text, which told me a lot about Georgie.

  I stared at the message for a little longer, debating what to respond and wondering whether she’d briefly woken up and then gone back to sleep, or whether she was having breakfast.

  What she was wearing.

  And that was a line of thought I needed to end now.

  My phone continued to ping with messages from my family. Mum was excited as we were all getting together today, including all her grandchildren, and all those who played rugby were excited because we were playing rubgy, which meant a good couple of hours where everyone’s man card was intact. Starting to read those messages would definitely take my mind of whatever Georgie was doing.

  But I didn’t do it.

  I texted back.

  You’re welcome. I think we’re going to be a good team. No Saturday night out partying then?

  I watched the screen, seeing that she’d read it almost immediately, and then those dots appeared, moving along for a few seconds and then they stopped. I continued to stare, wondering if responding had been a bad move.

  The dots started again.

  My Saturday night consisted of a book, two glasses of wine and take out. How was yours?

  I felt a little jolt of something that she’d responded. Not trying to analyse it, I started to type back.

  A meal with family, then an early-ish night. Any plans for today?

  I second guessed what I was putting, thought about rewriting it, adding something about work and then decided not to.

  There was a lull of a couple of minutes before she read it, during which about a dozen more messages came through from my siblings and parents. I ignored those, developing stalker tendencies from somewhere – I blamed Max – and watching the screen.

  The shower kicked in and I heard the whirring sound of the washing machine which meant Shay was sorting his sheets. I tried not to cringe, knowing I’d gone through the same process on many Sundays or Saturdays or both.

  Now it all felt a bit crappy.

  What’s your idea of early? It’s probably my idea of extremely late! Housework today, then food shopping. Seriously, Friday was about as exciting as my life gets. You don’t have to worry about me coming into the office with a hangover. What are your plans?

  I read it three times, trying to find out more about her without asking any questions. Why wasn’t she out on a Saturday? Was she married? Boyfriend? People in serious relationships still had lives – I babysat often enough for Claire and Jackson, and Ava and Eli were rarely in of an evening.

  I witnessed my cousin hooking up with some randomer and I just heard him seeing her out of the door of our apartment. I’d rather have stayed in and not had a housemate. I think he’s now washing his sheets. I’m playing rugby this morning and then it’s a family Sunday lunch, which usually involves too much booze. Did you enjoy your first week at Callaghan Green? I hope the idiot you share an office with was okay.

  If any of my brothers ever got hold of my phone and saw that message, I’d be torn a new arsehole.

  He was okay, I suppose.

  Her response flew through.

  Then my phone vibrated almost immediately after.

  I mean, he needed to tone down the aftershave a bit, and a couple
of those suits he wore seemed a little too big round the shoulders, but he’s okay at his job. I’ll be able to teach him a few things, improve his performance.

  Everything went rigid. Everything.

  My head was alight with ideas of how she could improve my performance and my fingers were itching to turn what I knew was meant to be teasing at my work capabilities into something else not so innocent.

  The image of that red hair wrapped around my fist as I demonstrated exactly how sturdy those desks were played in high definition in my brain.

  My suits fit perfectly well.

  I added a smiley face and pressed send.

  And I’ll have you know my performance is always exceptional.

  I didn’t second guess it. Didn’t re-read it. She could take it whichever way she wanted, and if it was too much, she could just ignore it.

  Which is what I guessed she was doing when after five minutes she hadn’t responded.

  I opened up the family message group, which someone – probably Claire – had nicknamed Don’t Forget the Bleach, mainly because Mum always came out with something that alluded to her and Dad still having an active sex life which resulted in my older brothers, especially, leaving the chat abruptly.

  I just didn’t overthink it. My parents had been together thirty-five years, had dragged up seven kids and were still together and happy. Plus, I was the youngest boy and used to anyone and everyone trying to embarrass me, so I was well practiced at switching off that part of my brain.

  Not so much when it had to do with Georgie’s message.

  The first unread message from today was sent from Claire at stupid o’clock which meant that either Eliza or Niamh had been awake early. I scrolled through, most of it arranging a couple of things this week and a comment about Teddy’s birthday party which was in another month. I stopped at my mother’s first message, dropped around six-thirty.