Chapter 30
Tim
Tabitha’s toast and sincerity made me smile.
I leaned toward her. “Tabs, I was really impressed with how you dealt with your parents.”
She grinned. “Thank you for saying that. Holding a line with them is hard for me. But you scolded them and then stood up for me, and I could see they were paying attention, and that helped me be honest with them.”
“Sometimes it’s good to hear it from an outsider.
I know I told Amy for forever not to go out with Fitzy, and I warned her of the consequences.
He was my best mate, and if it all went pear-shaped, she was going to have to face him for the rest of her life.
Mind you, she ignored me, and maybe that was a good thing.
Now they’re living happily ever after in a cottage in Croydon with their box of toys. ”
She gasped joyfully and clapped her hands. “They’re expecting?”
My lips quirked. “No, sorry, I mean sex toys. I found them one night looking to borrow Fitzy’s shoes.” I was sorry I’d mentioned it, but tonight, I seemed to be about stripping my life bare for Tabitha.
She chuckled. “Go, Amy.”
I slipped her a sly look, checking on her reaction, holding back a smile.
She stared at me and made a choking sound. “No, I don’t do… I mean, argh, I haven’t tried anything like that, but I don’t think… Oh God—”
She grabbed her glass and took a swig of her champagne, then she choked and coughed until her eyes watered, like the liquid had gone down the wrong way. I patted her on the back.
A few other diners looked over with smiles on their faces.
I kept my hand on her back and kept rubbing. Had I made her feel uncomfortable? “You okay there?”
“Oh God, that’s embarrassing,” she said. “Guzzling fizz like it’s beer. Not the—” her voice went even posher “—small, deliberate sips, allowing bubbles to disappear on your tongue, like we were taught at St. Delacroix Finishing School for Young Women.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Mmm, I’d like to see you do that.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. Then, never one to back down from a challenge, she raised her glass to her mouth, slightly poking the tip of her tongue into the narrow opening of the glass.
She took a sip, and her red lips dropped open, and I imagined the bubbles held on her tongue fizzing, settling, then disappearing.
With a small, appreciative sound in the back of her throat, she closed her mouth again.
Fuuuck me. “That’s definitely a skill,” I said.
She smiled, her cheeks flushing, slightly embarrassed, which was how it went with her.
And what I really liked about getting to know her this time was prying open her shy shell, bit by bit, seeing her eyes widen and lips part as she got more confident.
When she was with me, she seemed to be louder, more reactive, more annoyed, more daring…
and then sweetly shy again. Endearing. Addictive.
“What else did you learn at school?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, let’s see. I learned not to dangle my participles. We learned ‘to whom’ it up the bum. Oh. And I learned to wash silk baby clothes.”
I burst out with a laugh. “Oh my God. I didn’t realize silk baby clothes was a thing. Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” I rubbed her upper arm.
She shrugged. “No, it’s fine. It is ridiculous, you’re right to laugh.
The stupid thing is, we didn’t even learn to properly do that because it was expected we wouldn’t be doing it ourselves.
It was expected that we’d be supervising a Norland Nanny.
” She widened her eyes. “And yes, as you can see, that dream happened for me.” She thrust up her hands.
“Then there was the cooking. We learned how to make a hollandaise sauce from scratch with eggs whipped by hand, which of course I’ve never done subsequently, flambé crème br?lée, ditto.
And, oh yes, how to get out of a car without showing your knickers. ”
Her face flamed, maybe because she remembered tumbling out of my truck that night. The thought of her knickers, seeing them or not, made my trousers feel tight, and I shifted in my seat.
“But a limo, not a truck.” I gave her a wicked smile.
She pursed her pretty lips. “I will have to work on the truck exit.”
“Maybe we can work on it together,” I said.
She looked down shyly, her lips turned up, and I was grateful the joke worked.
Finally, she glanced up. “I always wondered about something in our past.”
I stiffened. Where was this going? Was the night about to be ruined by what I’d done back then?
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked cautiously, suddenly very curious about the cutlery.
“You never visited me during the holidays in high school. Except that one time to offer your lawn-mowing services.”
My head shot up, and I caught her clear eyes, relieved, though still wary this whole night could be turned upside down by one incident we had yet to examine.
“I was actually coming to see you. Then when you came to the door, your sophisticated friends intimidated me. I made up the lawn-mowing on the fly.” I felt the aching tenderness of my teenage self, his nervousness at standing at her door and taking that risk, hoping to get a glimpse of her.
He was a better and braver person than I’d been these last seven years.
She threw her head back in surprise. “Sophisticated?” She snorted with laughter, then covered her mouth. “Their whole life goals were snogging as many boys as they could and getting rotten on gin and tonics.”
My chest twisted with irrational jealousy at the thought of those adolescent boys snogging her, but they weren’t here now.
“You could also have come to see me,” I said.
Her demeanor changed to guarded again, her arms closing around her waist. “I did a couple of times, but no one was home. You were probably at cricket practice.”
Shit. I hadn’t known. How much time had we wasted not being honest with each other? But we’d been just teenagers.
“I wish I’d known,” I said. “You could have come down to the cricket pitch.”
“I actually did a couple of times, but there was a lineup of other girls at the fence.”
That surprised me, and maybe it would have even changed things at the time if I’d known or realized it. Truthfully, though, maybe I was too young to see the good thing in front of me, too caught up in my sports life and having the option of many girls feeding my ego.
Feeling warm, I took off my jacket and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. Her gaze lingered on my bare forearms, and I suppressed a smile at her reaction. We took another sip of our drinks, and she lifted her gaze, maintaining eye contact.
“But what about your secondary school years?” she asked. “You left at sixteen and got an apprenticeship?”
“Yeah.” I scratched behind my neck, almost hesitant, which I normally was about my history, in case people used the knowledge against me or thought about me in a different way. I was expecting her to be kind, because she was, but I didn’t want her pity.
“Actually, I wanted to tell you something tonight. It’s about why I left school early.
” When was the last time I’d talked about this?
I cleared my throat. “I have dyslexia. I’ve learned how to live with it and work with it, but it was definitely the reason I left school as soon as I could.
I don’t regret that—most days, I love building homes.
The physical work suits me, using my body, being outside a lot.
It was one of the blokes on-site who finally helped me with my reading—funnily enough, a plumber who had exactly the same issues, and to a similar degree.
And then my sister nagged me to join a night class where everyone shared their techniques to get through the day. ”
I always liked to be the boss, the team captain, strong and in control, and I almost couldn’t look her in the eye, worried about what I would see there.
Tabitha nodded, intrigued. “Tim, that sounds so tough to cope with, day to day.”
“Sometimes—a lot of times, actually—reading still makes me feel so frustrated and exhausted. I get so many things mixed up, days of the week, months, letters. I can’t make the words make sense like I can numbers or lining up timber, and there’ve been lots of times, in stores or professional offices, where I’ve felt really dumb again, like I did at school.
But I try to move forward. I mean, I’m sure all this—” I swept a hand down my torso “—reinforces people’s ideas that I’m a hulking lump of stupidity sometimes, but… ”
“Tim, what you’ve achieved is amazing. If people think that of you, they’re the bloody idiots.”