never did I think that I would be caught in the way you got me
push another girl aside and just give in.
She hadn't been expecting a response.
In the brightly lit living room of her home, a tall blonde girl paced up and down the wooden floors, nervously chewing on her thumbnail. The letter had been written on a whim, borne out of loneliness and a desire to try and move forward. It had, in fact, done the opposite. Her bohemian aunt said that she needed to gather Murphy's things together, open a bottle of wine and burn the lot in a sacrificial bonfire to "cleanse her aura". More sane members of her family had suggested writing a letter.
Erika wasn't a proficient writer. It probably showed. She asked how he was, how Ava was. She may have said that she missed him and the entire thing had sent her back to square one. She stopped her pacing as her eyes focused on a plain grey tee shirt that was folded on the table. It was his tee shirt. She'd taken to sleeping in it and it reached the point where it stopped smelling like him and started smelling like her.
He said he wanted to meet up. She sighed, still chewing her hangnail. Lulu had gone to work, leaving her alone with her thoughts. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to go, even if she had the sneaking suspicion that he was just going to give her her belongings back. Unlike him, she'd left various bits and bobs at his home. A hairbrush, a necklace, socks, a scarf. Nothing of valuable importance to her.
Murphy was a good guy. He probably just wanted to make sure she hadn't hurled herself off a ravine.
A few minutes later, she was walking down the bustling London streets. It was a sultry hot summer's day. The sky was blue and clear of clouds. Chatter and car horns drifted on the warm breeze, cutting through the muggy air that circulated between the skyscrapers. An odd combination of excitement and dread swirled in her stomach, making her feel a bit queasy. What if he wanted to see her and tell her in person that he was seeing someone new? The thought tasted vile in her mouth. He was, of course, totally fine to do so. It had been weeks since they'd split, since they'd talked, since they'd seen one another. He was too much of a nice guy to be single.
A jingle of bracelets and the faint scent of jasmine announced her arrival as she slung her
bag across the back of one of the chairs in a bright
café. It smelt wonderful. Rich coffee, lemon, rose water. Erika always liked the sense of chaos that happened here. Mismatched cutlery and plates, cute little ribbons, the use of floor cushions and benches gave it a relaxed feel. She could do with being relaxed.
Once seated, the happy chink of plates and the faint natter of the Turkish language drifted in and out as Erika toyed with her long golden necklace anxiously. A petite lady wearing a colourful abaya hovered by her table to take her order, causing her to blink. Out of habit, she ordered a mint tea and paused. What would Murphy like to drink? It was easy to get wrong. Taking a punt, she just offered a coffee. Turkish coffee was exquisite. It was thick and dark and bitter and flowed from the pot in beautiful chocolate brown streams. He could have her tea if he preferred.
The café was mostly empty, except for one elderly gentleman who was reading a newspaper. Erika began to fidget, jiggling her leg as she watched the entrance. Despite knowing he'd be there, it still came as a bit of a shock to see him. He'd entered through the door, pushing the rainbow curtain aside with such ease, it looked like he was loping off a yacht in the south of France and her mouth suddenly ran dry.
Erika got to her feet instantly, like she'd be stabbed in the bum with a fork and she blushed fiercely as she wobbled in her heels. There was no way around it: Murphy Regan was fucking beautiful. The women in the kitchen were oggling him, they weren't even tactile about the whole thing. Her arms came out for a hug before she realised and she dropped them hastily, clasping her hands together and wringing her fingers and feeling a bit apprehensive.
"Hi," she began with a small, unsure smile. Her big blue eyes looked him over, drinking him in, committing the image to memory so she could repaly it later and he could haunt her dreams in the pleasant way that he tended to do. "Sit," she said swiftly, remembering her manners and gesturing to the chair opposite her as she nervously ran her fingers through her sun-soaked mane of blonde hair. "Er, please. If you want to."
