He winks and me as I walk towards him, shaking my head, "You don't think you're being a little bit too cavalier about what just happened?"
Oliver shrugs again, and for some reason, it irks me this time. "Eh, it is what it is. What are you gonna do, right?"
"No, Oliver do you not get how big of a deal that was?" And suddenly, in my head, I'm ashamed to say that it's not the knock-down fight Oliver's just had with his own father in the middle of the restaurant, it's the words his father barked at the two of us back in the kitchen before that has me reeling.
"You think I don't know about the two of you fuckin' around like a couple of fuckin' perverts!"
It's the words that slice through my heart, and slice away all the bullshit padding I've been wrapping around myself to protect me from what I've been trying to avoid thinking about. That what Oliver and I are doing is wrong. So very wrong.
"It's vile is wot it is!"
And now everyone knows it. Everyone we work with, half the strangers in that dining room; MY MOTHER.
I shake my head, trying to stop the sting of shame and tears that threatens to run down my cheeks at any second.
"Hey, hey!' Oliver's arms go around me, and even though I know we shouldn't be doing this - even though I know that it's now far past time to stop this and put an end to this whole thing, I let him bring me in.
"Oy," he whispers, tilting my chin up, "It's all going to be okay, luv."
And then he's kissing me, and for one second in time, everything else drops away. For one second, as the wind whips around us on that cold, cobblestone street by the Thames, I can forget all of it and just be there in that moment with him.
"Oh. My. GOD!"
The sound of a voice in the night shatters the moment, and I jerk away from Oliver to see Delia standing outside the restaurant with her jaw dropped and her eyes wide, "Oh my God, it is true!" She squeals, wrinkling her nose at us, "That is so gross! You're - EW - you're his sister!" She sneers at me, shaking her head and making this horrified face at me.
"No, Delia-"
"Uh-uh, ew, stay away." She starts to laugh, shaking her head at us, "So gross, Chloe; so gross." She shakes her head again before turning and waltzing back into the restaurant.
"Oh my God, Oliver-!" I turn, feeling the panic rising inside of me feeling the world start to rock a little under my feet. "She's- she's going to tell everyone what she just saw!"
Oliver rolls his eyes, "So?"
I stare at him. "SO?!"
"Yeah, so, Chloe," he frowns at me. "Fuck her, and fuck ‘em all." He takes my hand and pulls me close, "This is real; the rest of them can just-"
"No, Oliver!" I'm yelling then, shaking my head and feeling the tears start to well out of my eyes as he frowns at me. "No it's not just ‘fuck them', this is MY LIFE! This is real!"
"Why are you so fucking upset right n-"
"‘Fuck them'? That's your answer to all this?!"
"Chloe!" His hands are on my shoulders as he leans in to my face, "I told you, it's going to be fine, luv-"
"You need to stop calling me that," I say sharply, shaking his hands off of me and stepping back.
"Chloe-"
"No," I'm shaking my head, and I know I'm about to do something terrible; something I won't be able to take back and something that's going to really, really hurt.
But I also know that it's something I have to do.
"Chloe, let's just-"
"I said NO OLIVER!" I scream, and this time, he shuts his mouth. "I- I can't do this anymore. I can't just pretend it's all going to be fine while you just act like a tough-guy bad-ass about any real problems that hit your life!"
He narrows his eyes at me, "And just what the fuck is that suppose to-"
"It means I'm done, Oliver! It means I'm done with this place and this city, and all of this!" I'm crying then, because I know I'm making a mistake, even if it's the only one I can make right now.
"And I'm done with us," I say quietly, "Whatever we are."
He's opening his mouth, but I'm turning and running down the street before he can say a word.
Please don't follow me, please.
And he doesn't, and that may be the worst part.
I nod at Rajeev as he passes me another beer and tosses a quick smile my way. I'm not sure why of all the places in the entire city of London I come here, but here is where I am.
Familiarity maybe?
"So," Rajeev says in his thick Indian accent as he raises an eyebrow at me, "Rough night in the kitchen?"
"You could say that." I'm still wearing my chef's whites, but he seems to take it in stride. I'm suddenly wondering how many times he's seen Oliver in here in this very condition and dress before I quickly push that thought out of my mind.
Rajeev shrugs, "Life is complex sometimes." He looks down, chopping something peppery smelling before glancing back up at me. "Okay, so take for example when I immigrated here from Bangladesh." He shakes his head, "You know, it was a big change coming here from what I had there and setting up this curry house."
I nod, taking a sip of my beer and giving him a sympathetic look, "Were you like a doctor or something back home?"
Rajeev frowns at me, "No, I owned a curry house," he says sharply. He shakes his head, "Why does everyone always think I was a fucking doctor?"
"Sorry."
He grins, "No worries. Anyways, it gets better."
"What does?"
What, getting over Oliver? Getting over my feelings - feelings I can't even bring myself to say out loud or put a word to - for the last man on earth I should be having them for?
"The pain; the feeling of letting it go and the loss that comes with it."
I raise a questioning brow at Rajeev as he shrugs and goes back to chopping. "Rajeev, you're sure you weren't a doctor?"
He laughs, "Let us hope not," he says, grinning as he spins the sharp chef's knife in his hand before slamming it point down into the cutting board and winking at me.
*****
It takes another beer after that one before I finally get up the courage to go home and face the music; whatever tune it may be.
I step into the darkness of the townhouse, shutting the door behind me. But it's when I see the knocked over coffee table in the living room and the glasses shattered around it that hit full panic mode.
"MOM?!" I scream, suddenly backing up against the front door with my eyes wildly looking around the dark entryway, "Mom!?"
"I'm here, honey."
I burst into the kitchen to see my mother sitting on one of the bar stools hunched over with her face in her hands and a glass of wine in front of her.
"Mom?"
"It's over, honey."
Oh not now, not from her.
"Mom, I'm so sorry I-" I sigh. "I don't know how to tell you. But it's over, I ended it."
She looks at me sadly, "Oh, no, honey, I mean Barney and I."
"What?" I stare at her in disbelief. "Oh God, because of-"
"Oh no, honey," she smiles sadly. "He was cheating on me with that waitress, Delia."
"WHAT?" I stare at her, incredulously.
She nods and takes a small sip of her wine, "I had my suspicions, but I walked in on the two of them around the corner right after she told us about you and … " she trails off and looks down.
"Oh, God! Mom, I'm so sorry," I say, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her close.
"I'm so sorry for all of this, honey," she whispers, hugging me fiercely.
"No, mom-"
"Look, I know I make mistakes, and I know I drink too much, dear."
"Mom-" I hug her tighter, "I know."
"I just miss your father so much sometimes."
I squeeze her, feeling her arms go around me and holding me tight before she lets go and I pull away to sink on the stool next to her.
"So what was the whole thing with Barney? I mean … " I raise my brows and gesture around the absurdly decorated kitchen with the framed pictures of lingerie models on the wall by the window.
She sighs, rolling her eyes, "Oh I don't know, I guess I thought he was a nice man."
"Well, he's an asshole."
"He's got rough edges, I suppose."
"Mom."
She laughs, "Okay! Okay! You're right, he's a fucking asshole!"
It's literally the first time I've ever hear my mom say that word, and I can't help but giggle.
She pushes her glass of wine away and sighs, "This could've been a nice life for us," she says quietly, looking down. She raises her eyes to me, "Oliver?"
"It's over."