Love Is... (20 page)

He looked to either side of him but Sandy and Debbie had shuffled away not long after the mention of a psychiatric unit.

I stared at Matthew. His hands were trembling and his eyes were teary. I'd grown so used to him deflecting every negative emotion with humour that I'd forgotten he had them. I stared at him some more, quickly realising he didn't need Ellie the Matchmaker wagging her finger and telling him how to fix his mistakes. What he needed right now was a friend.

‘Another drink?' I asked.

He smiled, albeit briefly. ‘I think I want to go home,' he said.

Chapter 17

B
y the time we reached Brooklyn, the March evening sun had set and the roads were darkening. A street lamp lit up the moment I stepped out of the taxi. Matthew stumbled out, with his shoulders hunched and his head stooped. He looked as though he'd undergone some sort of accelerated ageing programme.

I took him inside and put him straight to bed in the spare room. For a fleeting moment, I considered tucking him in like an older sister might her younger brother, but then I realised that if I did, once he rallied, he'd never let me forget it. I listened outside for a few minutes until I heard him snoring, then I went downstairs to open a bottle of wine and wait for Nick.

Wine glass in hand, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the sofa, wondering how I would explain to the car hire company that the new pickup address was a Hooters parking lot.

I felt something digging in my pocket and remembered
the nasal spray. I pulled it out and studied it again, instantly recalling the intensity in Professor Sheldon's eyes.

‘Try it,' he'd said. ‘Two sprays per day. At a time when you see your partner.'

I took a sip of wine and wondered about oxytocin. If it occurred naturally in our bodies, then what harm could really come from boosting the levels a little? I glanced back down at the nasal spray. It looked like anything you could buy off the shelf at Boots.

I'd meant to consider it further. In fact, I think I'd actually meant to have another sip of wine. However, for some reason, before I could stop myself, I'd shoved the nozzle up my nose and administered two sprays in quick succession. I took a strong sniff and then sank back into the sofa, half anticipating some kind of
Trainspotting
-like oblivion. I waited a few more minutes and nothing came.

I grabbed the spray again and reread the label, supposing it might indicate it was actually a placebo saline solution. Before I could reconsider, I'd pumped another two sprays up my other nostril. Then I looked around the room fearful that paramedics might whisk me away for emergency clearance of the nasal passages followed by enforced enrolment in an ‘oxytocin abusers support group'. I sank back into the sofa and closed my eyes, waiting for Nick to return.

Soon after, I heard footsteps coming up the front path. I sat up, poised and ready to greet Nick. At first, I found myself adopting a centrefold like pose on the sofa, but quickly realised that such behaviour would most likely spark concern, so I swung my legs back down and rested my hands on my lap.

However, instead of opening the door, he rang the bell. I huffed as I pulled myself up from the sofa, envisaging a
drunken Nick patting down his suit, searching for his keys, while they were being swept along a gutter somewhere, or thrashing around the footwell of a taxi. I took another deep sniff, to maximise any residual nasal spray and offset any lost-key-related annoyance, then opened the door.

At first I assumed I was hallucinating, and that somehow, in addition to being a pivotal bonding hormone, oxytocin, when delivered via the nasal passages also had visual-perceptual-altering properties, transforming the love of my life into someone I despised.

I blinked twice and then stared at him for a moment. It was clear to me it was Dominic but he looked different.

‘Hello, Ellie,' he said, before walking past me and into the lounge.

His walk seemed to have mellowed and was now more of a saunter than a gluteal-constricting strut. I turned and followed him in.

‘Take a seat,' I said, wondering at what point he planned to explain his presence.

He eyed the wine, then leaned across to pour us both a glass. ‘Going to need some of this,' he said.

I sat down opposite him and scowled.

‘Why are you here?' I asked, once it became apparent he had no plans to volunteer an explanation.

He leaned back and took a sip of wine. ‘The investors asked me to come.'

I raised my eyebrows. ‘You were sent here to check on me?'

He laughed. ‘No one sends me anywhere, Ellie. I'm the CEO.'

I narrowed my eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Dominic, we both
know the investors call the shots. They sent you here to check on me, didn't they?'

He leaned back and smirked. Instead of its usual I-win-you-lose tightness, his smirk had more of a cheeky edge to it. ‘You have nothing to worry about,' he said. ‘The investors know you'll do anything it takes to find the answers.' He took another sip of wine. ‘As do I.'

I stared at him. Maybe it was the way the light from the table lamp caught his face but his features seemed softer, less pinched and his hair looked less slick than usual and shorter than before.

‘You've changed your hair,' I blurted out.

He smiled and then patted it with his hand. ‘Er, yes,' he said, almost bashfully.

I found myself smiling too. ‘It suits you,' I said.

I looked down at his shoes. I'd never been much of a fan of buckled brogues but his looked smart.

‘New shoes?' I asked.

Dominic looked up and frowned. It was more a concerned frown than his usual patronising one. ‘You're being quite odd, Ellie.'

I laughed.
‘I'm
being odd? You're the one who just appeared on my doorstep with no explanation.'

He took a gulp of wine. ‘I told you. I've come to see how your research is going.'

‘You just thought you'd travel over three thousand miles across the globe to check up on the research that you tried to block funding for.'

He put his glass down and stared at me. ‘I arranged your trip. Why would I do that if I was trying to block it?'

‘Because you wanted to get rid of me, so you could install
your CEO profit-maximising customer-fleecing strategy without my interference.'

He laughed. ‘Install? You make it sound like a regime.'

I stared at him again. I'd never noticed how perfectly aligned his teeth were. He stopped laughing and then looked back at me. I stared at him some more, at his intense hazel eyes and his slightly furrowed brow. I found myself imagining how he must have looked as a child.

‘So,' Dominic said, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together, ‘how is it going?'

‘What?' His question jolted me from my trance. ‘Me and Nick?'

He smirked. ‘No, the research.'

I felt my cheeks redden. ‘Oh yes, that, great.' I took a sip of wine. ‘It's going really well. Thanks.'

Dominic nodded and then picked up his glass. ‘I read the report you sent and your findings interest me, and, well—' he paused and took a sip of wine ‘—I think it would be a good idea for me to work with you on this and accompany you on your next trip.'

I frowned.

‘The investors want the research wrapped up by the end of April with a view to launch in early May. They believe couples counselling will become the most profitable arm of the business. They want to focus their prime resources on this research.'

I sat back and smirked. ‘And you're their prime resource, are you?'

‘Seems so,' he said, taking another sip of wine. ‘Besides,' he added. ‘I'm quite interested in the outcome.' Then he held my gaze a little too long. ‘From a profit perspective, I mean.'

Suddenly I heard the key in the lock. I put down my glass and sat up straight. Then I turned to see Nick in the doorway. Nick looked at Dominic, then at the wine and then at me.

Dominic stood up and held out his hand. He was several inches taller than Nick.

‘I'm Dominic,' he said. ‘Ellie's colleague.'

Nick shook his hand. ‘Nice to meet you,
Dominic,
' he said, pronouncing his name more like Domi-dick. ‘Would you like a drink?' Nick added, with a nod at the empty glasses. ‘Oh, looks like you've already had one.' Nick examined the bottle. ‘My 2002 Margaux. Good choice.'

Dominic checked his watch. ‘Better be heading off now,' he said.

Nick held the door open for him.

Dominic walked out, then glanced back at me. ‘I'm staying at the Waldorf,' he said. ‘I'll call you tomorrow.'

I nodded. ‘Sure, bye!' I said, suddenly realising I was waving like a child's entertainer.

Once the door had closed, Nick turned to me.

‘What was that all about?' he asked.

I began to clear up the glasses. ‘Oh, I don't know,' I said. ‘All very weird. He's come out to check up on my research.'

‘No. What's up with you? You were giggling like a One Direction fan when I walked in.' Nick began fluttering his eyelashes and put on a high-pitched girly voice. ‘Ooh, Dominic, you're such a twat. I really hate you.'

I glared at him. ‘No, I wasn't.'

He glared back. ‘Yes, you were. Seriously, Ellie, I haven't seen you flirt like that since…' he sighed ‘…I don't know. And I thought you loathed him.'

Suddenly the nasal spray caught my eye, on the sofa.

Nick followed my gaze and then frowned. He looked back at me and then walked towards it and picked it up.

‘What's this?' he said, examining the container. ‘And why are you staring at it like it's incriminating evidence in a first-degree murder trial?'

I looked down, busily trying to concoct a tree-pollen-allergy themed excuse in my mind.

Nick held it up in my face. ‘So, somehow this is linked to Dominic?'

My eyes widened. ‘It was meant to be for you.'

He looked back at the bottle and read the label.

‘Oxytocin,' he said, before looking up at the ceiling. I noticed the vein in his neck was pulsing. ‘You went to see that love drug professor today.'

I nodded, and scrunched up my face.

He grabbed his phone and typed something in. Then he read from his screen.

‘“Oxytocin is a mammalian hormone that also acts as a neurotransmitter in the brain. In women, it is released mainly after distension of the cervix and vagina during labour, and after stimulation of the nipples, facilitating birth and breastfeeding, respectively.”' He paused, stared at me, and then read on. ‘“Oxytocin is released during orgasm in both sexes. In the brain, it is involved in social recognition and bonding, and might be involved in the formation of trust between people.”' He looked back at me, and held up the screen. ‘Tell me you didn't, Ellie?'

A nervous laugh suddenly spilled out of my mouth. ‘I only had a couple of sprays.'

Nick sighed. ‘How many precisely?'

‘Four.'

‘And what's the recommended dose?'

‘Two.'

Nick's eyes narrowed. ‘Great. So you've just had the equivalent of a mind-blowing, life-altering orgasm with Dominic and now you're all loved up. Brilliant. Fucking brilliant.'

Nick threw the nasal spray to the floor. Then he swooped down and picked it up again. ‘Actually,' he said, ‘I might take this to work with me and give myself a couple of sprays before my meeting with Jenna.'

I snatched it back. ‘It was an accident. I meant it to be for you. You were supposed to come home first. I wasn't expecting Dominic to come before you.'

Nick glared at me. ‘Bad choice of words, Ellie.' He shook his head. ‘It's always the way with you. You're always getting yourself into these predicaments.'

I frowned. ‘I'm always having neurochemical orgasms with men I loathe?'

He huffed. ‘Why did you even think to spray with me? I thought we were good.'

I leaned forward to take his hand but he knocked it away.

‘You're still trying to make us perfect, Ellie, aren't you? We will never be perfect. We're just us. So please leave us alone and stop meddling.' And with that, he stormed off, lobbing the nasal spray in the bin as he did.

Chapter 18

T
hat night Nick sulked off to the spare room, only to discover Matthew sound asleep in the foetal position with his face wedged between two plump pillows. He returned to our room with the apparent caveat that he would sleep as far over the other side of the bed from me as possible.

When I woke the following morning, his side was empty.

‘Ellie!' Matthew's cheery voice wafted up the stairs, along with the heady aroma of pancakes. ‘Breakfast.'

I pulled a sweatshirt over my nightdress and made my way downstairs. Matthew was at the hob frying eggs and whistling.

‘Good morning, USA,' he said, opening his arms wide and waving a spatula as though conducting an orchestra.

I poured myself some orange juice and sat down at the kitchen table. Nick was reading the
New York Times
and refusing to make eye contact with me.

‘And how is my sweet English rose today?' Matthew asked with a smile.

‘I'm fine,' I said. ‘Are you OK?'

He looked up at the ceiling. ‘I have pancakes, I have maple syrup and I have my friends. What more could anyone ask for?' he said.

I raised my eyebrows and glanced at Nick, who quickly looked back down at his paper.

Following a few more episodes of shimmying and sizzling, Matthew spun round with the frying pan and plopped two eggs onto each of our plates. He then stood back and clasped his hands together, before proceeding to direct our attention to the rest of the foodstuffs laid out on the table.

‘Here is the bacon. Here are the sausages. The pancakes are here and the maple syrup…' he picked up the syrup, drizzled some on his plate and then placed it back down on the table ‘…is here,' he said, and then clapped his hands.