Playing for Keeps: A fun, flirty romantic comedy perfect for summer reading. Rosa Temple

I stood outside the shop, locking up, I couldn’t help thinking of Hugo and the way Stella spoke about him. I thought about how tragic it was that Hugo still loved me and here was a woman who would seek out his ex just to make him happy while he was on his sickbed. As I headed for home I pondered the woman who had walked past the shop on so many occasions. Since seeing her the first time and since our conversation it was clear Stella must have walked by at random times just so she could meet me. I knew for a fact that Hugo wouldn’t have known about the shop, so how could she? Then again, anyone googling Magenta Bright would have seen the new store location and eventually found me there. But why not just come into the office? I was usually always there. Having said that, there might have been times when she walked by the office but failed to get up the nerve to come in. Without a big window at ground level I might have missed seeing her go by a thousand times.

      To have made so much of an effort and to have built up the courage it took to go against what Hugo had said, which was not to tell me he was in London and extremely ill, made me wonder if there was more to this visit than she was letting on.

      Why was Stella so jumpy and nervous? At times she’d looked as if she wanted to cry. Maybe she was tearful because of how sick Hugo really was. In which case, shouldn’t I just give in and go and see him, bring him grapes? Surely seeing him in his time of need was the most decent thing I could do.

      I rounded the corner into our mews. The house would be empty because Anthony was still in Italy. I put the key in the lock and contemplated visiting Hugo without Anthony having to be any the wiser but quickly thought otherwise when I saw how my and Anthony’s coats hung so closely together on the rail just inside the front door. The sleeve of his blue rain jacket looked to be holding hands with the sleeve of my red M&S mac.

      I thought of Anthony as I flopped onto the sofa in the living room and kicked off my shoes. It had been a long day, I’d achieved a lot in a short space of time, and going to see Hugo would only be a setback. A complication our relationship could do without. I leaned my head back and looked up at the ceiling. Something wasn’t adding up about Stella’s visit. I just hadn’t worked out what.

Chapter 8

      ‘I miss you so much.’

      Before I knew it, the evening had drawn in and I was still on my back on the big red sofa in the small living room, looking up at the shadows cast by the tree outside the window. The shadows had formed the shape of a tall, thin man dancing on the ceiling above me but had changed shape and angle as the sun began to disappear from behind the rooftops opposite. My mind had gone off at weird tangents as I thought about Stella’s visit and subsequently my relationship with Hugo.

      It hadn’t been a bad relationship, not really, but it had always been tinged with a hint of disaster. It was clear Hugo and I were never meant to be, but I still couldn’t stop wondering about his mysterious illness and why it would bring him back to London. Maybe he hoped to run into me by chance and start the whole pursuit thing again. That could be why he didn’t want his friend Stella to give the heads-up about his visit.

      I thought about how different my life could have been with Hugo. He was as artistic as Anthony but as a musician, not a painter. He was also as keen as Anthony was for me to fulfil my dreams. He could have been just as supportive of my career choice as Anthony, just as helpful, just as proud of my achievements. I did love Hugo once, so deeply I thought I would die when he walked out on me. But my love for Anthony was so different. So complete, I suppose you could say. Just when I thought loving a man with all of my heart would be impossible, there he was. And there he was on the other end of the phone to me now.

      ‘I miss you too, Magenta.’ Anthony had been busy on his commission all day but he hadn’t been happy with the results of two of his paintings. He was on the penultimate one, at last, and he’d extended his stay by another two weeks. I worried that the time would run out and he wouldn’t finish the job in time and end up staying even longer. That would mean him missing the Grand Opening of my shop and I’d be really upset if that happened.

      ‘Are you close to finishing the paintings?’ I asked, making imaginary circles in the air with my toes.

      ‘You know it doesn’t work like that, darling. I want to be finished, I want to be home with you, but you know I won’t be happy until I’ve thrown everything into this series.’

      ‘Yes, I know. Only too well.’

      ‘I’m pretty sure I’ll be back for the opening.’

      ‘Pretty sure?’ When did definitely sure become pretty sure, I wonder. ‘I know, I know. I’m not grumbling. I just want you to be here.’

      ‘How about you coming down at the weekend for a day or two?’

      ‘No, I’ll just hold up the process and delay you even more.’ I sighed, trying to move the mouthpiece out of range so I didn’t sound pathetic. I was being mature and accepting that this was his life. Yet I loved coming home to Anthony when I was stressed with work and it was a very stressful time. ‘Besides, I finally have staff for the shop. As soon as I get their acceptance letters I’ll need them with me stocking up the shop and arranging it so it looks fabulous. You still haven’t seen the finished job on the refurb.’

      ‘I got the WhatsApp photos.’

      ‘But that’s not the same. Okay, sorry.’ I sat up. ‘I’m not going to moan. It’ll only make the time drag if I stay miserable because you’re not here. I’ll let you go back to your work and I’ll speak to you soon.’

      ‘You don’t have to rush off already, do you?’ He sounded sad.

      ‘No, I don’t. It’s just that I haven’t eaten and I could do with a bath.’

      ‘Okay, call me from your bath and talk dirty to me.’

      ‘Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?’

      ‘Maybe. Why don’t you get naked and we can discuss it further?’

      ‘How about we both get naked now and…’ My mobile rang from my bag. It was Anya’s ring, R. Kelly’s ‘Bump N’ Grind’, her favourite song. ‘Shit. It’s Anya. I need to take this… you know, with the baby and everything?’

      ‘That’s okay. Answer it. Call me when you can. I’m going to get some food.’

      I imagined Anthony at the seafood restaurant just a mile up the coast from where he had been painting the seascape series for his client. He’d described to me the overweight owner and how she pinched his cheek between her chubby fingers and told him he needed to eat like a man and not a bird, as if Anthony had been her own son. Sea birds swooped past the open windows and cawed loudly. The sea was rough, big waves pounding against the rocks just below. The whole frontage of the restaurant was concertinaed open and all he could smell was the sea, fresh fish and balsamic vinegar. Anthony would be speaking Italian to the owner and anyone he met while out dining. Even though he told me every time we spoke that he missed me and loved me, I knew he’d be totally happy and well settled with everyday life in Italy.

      I was far too busy to fly out there, even for a day. Sure, as the time stretched on, the independent woman in me was doing well, but the nights grew lonelier than I wanted them to be. But I was coping. I was strong. It made me wonder, if I wasn’t a crumbling mess, then did Anthony really miss me that much?

      During our first week of separation I went about my day as if a big part of me was missing. Anya thought it soppy and kept reminding me about what great ‘miss you’ sex we’d have when Anthony finally finished that bloody commission. Of course I didn’t tell her that there had been very little action in the bedroom when Anthony was here, so that wasn’t the issue. It was ironic he should say anything about my talking dirty because, prior to his leaving, our love life was just that: all talk. All I was really longing for was for Anthony and me to sort out what was missing. Something certainly was.

      ‘I love you, darling, but I’d better go,’ I said, looking at the image of Anya and