Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5)

Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5) Page 62

“Yes?” I manage.

“You want to sit here and wait?”

“No!” I grab the picnic basket and thrust the door open. “Thank you. I’ll…take it from here. Thank you so much.”

“Wait a mo’.” He gets out and offers me a hand to help me step down from the cab. I scrabble in my bag and give him a wodge of cash without even counting it. The taxi driver sighs, peels off a few notes, and hands the rest back.

“Not used to this game, are you, love?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“You need any more help…” He feels in his pocket and produces a gray business card. “My brother Lou. Does a lot of work for divorce lawyers. You might want to get yourself one of those an’ all. Make sure you and the kid are taken care of.”

“Yes. Thanks.” I pocket the card, barely aware of what I’m doing.

“Good luck, love.” The taxi driver gets back in his cab, still shaking his head, and drives away.

I’m standing outside the building with the “rooms” sign. I could buzz at the door and see what happened.

No. What if she answered?

My legs suddenly feel wobbly. I need a seat. The ground floor of the building is a business print shop, and I find myself walking inside and sinking into a chair. What am I going to do? What?

“Hello there!” A voice makes me jump and I turn to see a cheerful man in a short-sleeved striped shirt. “Are you interested in some printing? We have a special offer on all our business cards. Vellum, laminated, textured…”

“Um…thanks.” I nod, just to get rid of him.

“Here you are!” The man hands me a sample book and I start to leaf through it blindly. Maybe I should just go up and…and burst in. But what if I really do find them together?

I’m turning the pages more and more feverishly. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I’m here, in the middle of Soho, wondering if my husband is upstairs with another woman.

“Here’s our form. If you’ll just fill it in…” The man has come back with a clipboard and pen, which he thrusts at me. On automatic pilot I take them from him and write “Bloomwood Inc.” at the top of the page.

“What kind of business are you in?” the man asks chattily.

“Um…double-glazing.”

“Double-glazing!” The man frowns thoughtfully. “I’d suggest a nice laminated white card with a border. With the address here and your company motto here…Do you have a motto?”

“For…for all your glazing needs,” I hear myself saying. “London, Paris, Dubai.”

I have no idea what I’m saying. The words are just coming out of my mouth.

“Dubai!” The man looks impressed. “I’ll bet they have a few windows out there!”

“They do.” I nod. “It’s the window capital of the world.”

“Now, I never knew that!” the man says with interest.

I stiffen. I just heard a rumbling-footsteps kind of noise. Someone’s coming down the stairs.

Luke. It has to be.

Except…that was a bit quick, surely?

“Er…thanks very much! I’ll think about it….” I shove the clipboard back at the man and rush out of the shop and into the street. In front of me the brown-painted door is slowly opening and I quickly edge behind a small tree.

My entire body is clenched with dread. Blood is rushing through my ears. Stay calm. Whatever happens, whoever he’s with—

The door swings open — and Luke steps out, followed by a couple of men in suits.

“Let’s discuss it over lunch,” he’s saying. “There’s a couple of clients I think could really benefit from that approach.”

He’s not with Venetia. He’s not with Venetia!

I feel like doing a little dance on the pavement. Relief is flooding through me. How could I have thought he was up to anything? I’m so paranoid. I’m so stupid! I’m going to go home and totally trust him from now on….

“Ms. Bloomwood?”

The guy from the print shop has come out and is peering at me, shading his eyes from the sun. Damn. Maybe this tree wasn’t such a great hiding place. I forgot my bump would be poking out.

“Becky?” Luke swivels and stares at me in astonishment. “Is that you?”

I feel my cheeks turning beet red as the three men peer at me. “Er…hi!” I say brightly.

“I’ve got a mock-up of that business card, if you’d like it.” The print shop man is advancing on me.

“Thanks!” I swipe it from him. “I’ll let you know.”