Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It’s awesome to have a few clear days with Josh by my side, both of us free from work. We’ve both kept our calendars free. Proposals done and dusted until next weekend.
There are a million things I love about our line of work, but our freedom of scheduling is a big one. We’re going to have more than a single ‘date night’ basking in our love for each other, and my growing steadiness is making that so much easier. Dare I say it… so much more fun.
Now the elephant in the room has been acknowledged, it feels lighter between the two of us, too. The loss of Heath is now a shared pain, out in the daylight, rather than a stab buried deep out of view.
Such a relief, even though it’s hard.
“What do you want to do today?” Josh asks on our second morning together, trailing his fingers up my stomach as we lie in bed. “Are you ready to venture out into the great outdoors?”
I still get a flash of nerves at the thought of venturing out anywhere. It makes me stiffen up, and Josh’s fingers pause with the stomach trail.
He snuggles in, kisses my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I mean going out for a low key dinner, not hitting up the highlife of Mayfair.”
Damn, it’s been ages since Josh and I have been out to a restaurant together. I haven’t even considered it since Cannes. I miss the browsing of menus, and sipping wine while we laugh and chat, and play footsie under the table.
I miss chocolate fudge cake. I miss watching Josh sip his large Americano once the meal is done. I miss sharing three different starters and contemplating which one is the best as though we’re Michelin starred food critics.
I miss… everything.
Small steps, though.
We did go out hand in hand yesterday to stock up on supplies from a nearby supermarket, which is a role Josh has long taken to doing solo, but as for a busy restaurant, with onlookers all around us… that feels like a whole other crazy ballgame.
“You’re doing the lip thing,” Josh says. “Which I guess means you’re considering it. I’ll take that as a positive, since it’s not a flat out no.”
Josh noticed the lip chewing thing I do very early on in our relationship. I can’t help but smile, because as usual he’s realised that I’m doing it before I have.
My logic may seem dumb as fuck. Freaking out about a restaurant meal when I’m happy to hang out in Victoria coach station to fuck a stranger between bus arrivals, but it’s different to be in plain sight.
“It’ll be scary,” I say. “To be on view like that. People looking.”
“I get it, baby, but who knows? Keeping the sprint up might ease your nerves all the quicker.” He pauses. “Like I said, it’ll be low key. A little Italian place nearby, not a celebrity hangout.” I love his smirk. “We’ll save that for when you’re running to the finish line at full speed.”
I laugh. “You’ll be waiting a heck of a long time for that.”
He strokes my face. “I’m not so sure.”
I adore Josh’s faith in me. He’s both a coach and a cheerleader in one. A perfect combination.
I stretch my arms over my head and take a great big yawn.
It’s got to be almost midday, but that makes sense, since we were up most of the night having filthy fun time.
The bed here is comfortable, and so is the sofa with its plush, comfy cushions.
I’d be more than content with another snuggle up of a movie night tonight with Josh, but it’s all just comfy cushions, to comfy cushions, to comfy cushions, and that’s not going to last for ever. I wouldn’t want it to.
There’s no denying it. Venturing out to an actual restaurant again would be a dream come true.
“What if someone recognises me, though?” I ask the obvious.
Josh shrugs. “Then we leave. Or stay. Up to you. More importantly though, what if they don’t? Wouldn’t that be great?”
I sigh at the thought. “That would be amazing. Absolutely fucking amazing.”
“Then let’s do it. Let’s book into the Italian by Union Road and take our chances. We can always bail and run if anything goes sour. The most we can lose is some lasagne.”
“And my fearless confidence.”
He shakes his head, his eyes gorgeous as they lock on mine.
“That will never be at risk. You may fall hard, but you’re a gold hearted warrior. That fearless confidence will always come back.”
“I have you to thank for that.”
His eyes are so full of life.
“Lovely compliment, but that’s utter bullshit. You’d be a warrior regardless. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Take pride in all your accomplishments, baby. A whole load of people would have fallen for good, having had to deal with what you have.”
My mind whizzes back through the cacophony of situations that have struck me over the past twelve months.
There have been loads of awesome waves in the ocean of chaos, where I’ve been surfing up high with a grin on my face, but fuck, there have also been so many lows.
And almost every single one of those lows has had a common denominator…
The whizz of my mind seals the deal for me.
My jackass cunt of an ex isn’t going to win another round. No way. I want lasagne with Josh in a candlelit restaurant and I want it tonight, not another damn pizza delivery and movie marathon.
“Ok, let’s do it,” I say. “See if you can book us a table.”
Josh holds up his phone, and I see a confirmation email from the restaurant.
“No need. I already knew my gold hearted warrior would keep sprinting.”
I wrap my arms around him, giving him a whole new snuggle fest under the covers.
His faith in me is priceless. I’ll treasure it all of my life.
“I love you,” I tell him.
“Same goes, baby. Can’t wait to be back out there in the world with you.”
“Not long to wait, then.”
Despite the zing at the prospect of getting back out there, I don’t feel like such a gold hearted warrior when I’m getting ready for the great outdoors later that evening.
I opt for a low key outfit, which is nothing like I’d usually go for.
A pair of tight black jeans and a burgundy cami, which is cool enough, just not exactly romantic meal territory.
I’m planning to dress it up with some stilettos, sure, but Josh catches sight of me in the hallway before I’ve managed it.
The difference in the way we’ve dressed is astronomical.
Josh is in a jet-black suit with a deep purple tie. Cufflinks, and brogues, and hair styled to perfection.
I could maintain that the restaurant doesn’t need dressing up for, because it doesn’t, but that isn’t at the heart of my choices, and Josh knows it. He’s visibly disappointed when he clocks my muted catflicks. I’ve even toned my makeup down.
“Sorry,” I say, but he shrugs it off.
“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, baby.
You can present yourself however you want to, always.
That will never be in question.” He pauses.
“My disappointment is because I don’t believe that you are presenting yourself how you want to.
But fear is fine. Understandable. If you need to tone yourself down a bit, you do. You’re the judge of that, not me.”
In a heartbeat, the truth becomes so clear to me. It’s almost painful.
I’m going out for my first meal in months tonight, on a date with my gorgeous boyfriend, and I looked more flamboyant going to the supermarket yesterday. At least I had full blown catflicks on then.
This isn’t what I want. Not at all. I want to be out there with Josh, strong and happy and flamboyant at his side, just like I always was.
“Wait. Just a few minutes,” I say to him, and dash back to the bedroom.
Fuck this shit. I ditch my jeans and tug my cami top over my head, then scout through my wardrobe on a mission. I take out a floor length deep purple slip dress, in glorious thick satin. I know it will be a match made in heaven with the purple of Josh’s tie and hair streak.
I feel so much better from the very moment I have it on.
With that, I extend my catflicks and darken my pale heather lipstick with a bold shade of plum. A whole different, sexy ballgame.
I do a fresh spin in the mirror before I leave the bedroom.
Me.
It’s myself I see staring back at me.
And it’s Josh’s smile at seeing his girlfriend for real that greets me when I step back into the hallway.
“You look incredible,” Josh says, and my smile is all for real right back when I put on my stilettos and take his arm.
“Wouldn’t want to be a shrinking violet next to such a bright violet star, would I?”
“You can pull off a shrinking violet very well. Under the right circumstances.”
I give him a wink.
“I do have a liking for some of those circumstances, and you know it.”
The image of Daddy, one of my favourite ever clients, pops into my head. I miss being a shrinking violet for him, that’s for sure. I miss being a shrinking violet at the mercy of a whole host of my clients, actually. And occasionally by Josh.
He can make me a very happy shrinking violet when he’s in the mood for it.
Maybe I’ll have a go when we get home later.
“We haven’t got far to walk,” my boyfriend says en route. “It’s the closest restaurant around. Good reviews, though. I didn’t go for skanky.”
“I know.” I grin. “You never would.”
I shove aside the nerves as we walk to our destination, just a few streets away. I focus on the feeling of Josh’s hand in mine, and keep my breaths steady, determined that Connor’s bullshit is not going to overshadow this night for us.
We cross paths with a few passersby, and we get a glance or two, but no wide eyes or pointy fingers, or phone cameras aimed in our direction. It’s… nothing, really. Just randoms acknowledging a strange goth looking couple walking along the street. And it eases me. Every lack of reaction eases me.
Thank you for being such a fame-crazy cunt, Connor.
Josh opens the door for me at Cucina della Nonna, and it’s clear it’s a nice place. Candlelit and elegant, with red and white check tablecloths. I’m sure I’m going to enjoy it here, regardless of the bundle of nerves in my stomach.