Chapter 5
SAMMIE
‘Let me show you to your table,’ Romeo said as I followed behind him and Edward.
At least Romeo was more polite than he was earlier. The smile he just gave was totally half-arsed, but whatever. I wasn’t here for him, I was here for Edward.
So, Edward was my Mr Right.
If I was being totally honest, I wasn’t instantly attracted to him. Don’t get me wrong, he was fairly good-looking. He had short brown hair, clean-shaven white skin, brown eyes and was dressed in an expensive-looking dark suit.
Edward didn’t inspire the same phwoar reaction that I’d got when I first saw Romeo. But that was a good thing because that was exactly what I’d said I wanted. A decent-looking guy who wasn’t going to attract women like flies to shit.
Romeo was the kind of guy I swooned over on the dating apps and it always ended in tears.
I was here to break that toxic cycle. Edward was my perfect match. And just because there wasn’t that initial spark of attraction, it didn’t mean we wouldn’t hit it off.
I’d had more sparks than a fireworks display with loads of guys and they’d all fizzled out faster than the flick of a switch.
Yeah, Edward’s handshake was limper than a lettuce leaf and his palms were sweaty, but he was probably nervous like me.
Like Stella said, the Love Hotel peeps were matchmaking experts. They knew what they were doing when they set us up.
It was time to push myself out of my comfort zone and try a different type of man.
‘Here we are.’ Romeo gestured to a table by the window with sea views. This place really was stunning.
Like the rest of the hotel, the restaurant had a clean, minimalist décor. White stone walls, tables with crisp white tablecloths with a single red rose in a vase in the centre.
‘Thanks, mate.’ Edward sat down straightaway and Romeo frowned.
‘Please.’ Romeo pulled out my chair and I sat down.
‘Thanks,’ I said, surprised at the gesture.
Even though I was capable of pulling out my own chair, I kind of liked that chivalry stuff. Not that I’d experienced it often.
Romeo was probably trained to do this kind of thing as part of his job. It would’ve been nice if Edward had done that, but it was fine.
‘ Prego ,’ Romeo replied, which I guessed meant: you’re welcome. ‘Take a look at the menus and one of our Cuisine Champions will be here shortly to take your order. Enjoy your meal together.’
Cuisine Champions ! Stella was right. The job titles in this place were hilarious.
As Romeo left, I picked up the menu and fixed my gaze on it, not knowing whether I should speak first or let Edward do the honours.
I’d imagined this moment a million times.
Thought about what I might say and as cringey as it sounded, I’d even rehearsed it in front of the mirror a couple of times.
Okay. Maybe a couple of dozen times was more accurate.
But now Edward was in front of me, I couldn’t remember a single word from those conversation starters.
‘So.’ Edward broke the silence. ‘The weather’s pretty nice here. Much better than England.’
The weather?
Seriously?
Come on, bruv, you can do better than the freaking weather.
Then again, at least he’d tried to make conversation, which was more than I had.
‘Yeah! But that’s not hard,’ I laughed. ‘Where are you from?’
‘London,’ he replied.
‘Me too!’ Relief washed over me. At least we lived in the same city. I’d tried the whole long-distance relationship stuff twice before and it never worked out. ‘I’m from South London, I live in Tooting.’
‘I grew up in Dulwich.’
‘No way!’ I shrieked. What were the chances? I came all the way to Italy and ended up meeting a man who grew up not far from where I did. This was brilliant.
‘Yeah. I live in Shoreditch now.’
‘Very cool.’ Shoreditch was in East London and was known for having loads of trendy bars and restaurants.
‘I like it. And it’s close to work. I’m a Finance Director for a computer software company.’
‘Oh, wow. A finance guy,’ I grinned. According to social media, dating a finance bro was the Holy Grail. This was another good sign.
‘How about you?’ Edward asked.
‘I work as a receptionist for a pharmaceutical company.’
‘Oh, right. What kind of pharmaceuticals?’
‘Our bestselling products are haemorrhoids cream and diarrhoea relief tablets.’
‘Gross!’ he grimaced and my stomach twisted.
It wasn’t the world’s most exciting job, but it was honest work and it paid the bills.
Plus, although I was a receptionist now, if I played my cards right, in a couple of months, once I’d been there for five years, there was a strong possibility that I’d get promoted to head receptionist, which would open up a new level of opportunities.
And yeah, our bestsellers weren’t exactly glam, but most people had diarrhoea at least once in their lives and haemorrhoids could be painful, so it was important to have stuff to treat it.
I was about to tell him that, but then remembered I was supposed to be making a good impression and in hindsight talking about getting the runs and lumps in and around your arse weren’t exactly top-tier first-date conversation material. In my defence, I was just answering his question.
‘Shall we order?’ I asked. Maybe the date would improve after a glass of that amazing prosecco.
‘Yeah.’
Once we’d scanned the menu, we placed our order and the waiter, or should I say, Cuisine Champion , lol, brought over a bottle of prosecco.
‘This prosecco is so good!’ I said.
‘It’s not bad,’ Edward replied.
Not bad? I didn’t know what Edward usually drank, but this was like heaven in a glass.
‘What kind of things do you like to do in your spare time?’ I asked.
‘The usual stuff. Rugby, going out with friends. I also enjoy swimming.’
‘Me too!’ I instantly brightened. Another big green tick.
‘I go to the pool most mornings before work. I like to stay in shape.’
‘Impressive. I usually just go at the weekends, but I wish I could go more.’
As Edward talked about how he’d loved swimming since he was a boy, I began to relax.
I was starting to see why we’d been matched. He’d already ticked several of my boxes: decent-looking, good job, lived in London and we shared a similar hobby. High-five to the matchmaking experts.
Soon after, our food arrived and I swear the fresh ear-shaped pasta, which apparently was called orecchiette and was typical for this region, was the best pasta I’d ever tasted.
‘How long have you been single?’ I asked.
I hoped it would come up naturally but it hadn’t and I didn’t want to pussyfoot around. I wanted to know more about his dating history.
‘About a year and a half.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your ex?’
‘Chardonnay was a brilliant girl: super attractive, fun, we got on like a house on fire and the sex… our chemistry was amazing. But we just wanted different things.’
‘How so?’ I didn’t want this to sound like an interview, but I’d wasted so much time on dating the wrong men, that I’d rather know sooner rather than later whether we were on the same page.
‘I’m thirty-eight, so I wanted to settle down and have a family whilst I’m still fit enough to play with the kids. She was in her twenties so she wasn’t ready for that.’
OMG.
He was thirty-eight. I’d said I wanted a man that was older than me because he’d be more likely to be ready to settle down.
And he wanted kids. Plural .
Tick and double tick.
The Love Hotel experts had delivered exactly what I’d asked for.
‘A similar thing happened to me. I was dating a guy for three years but he could never make up his mind about what he wanted. I was keen to settle down but he always said it was too soon. In the end, we broke up.’
I didn’t need to go into the fact that he’d dumped me because he’d fallen for someone else who he very quickly committed to. I was supposed to be selling myself, not advertising the fact that my long-term boyfriend traded me in for a younger model once I’d outlived my usefulness.
‘That’s a shame.’ His eyes dropped to his plate and he popped the last forkful of chicken salad in his mouth. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Don’t you want dessert?’ I asked.
‘It’s too late for that and you must be full after all that pasta.’
‘A bit, but everyone knows it’s a separate stomach for dessert, right?’ I laughed. Edward frowned like I was a lunatic and my smile dropped. ‘Not a dessert fan, then?’
‘Not really.’
‘Maybe you could get a cheeseboard instead?’
‘Too many calories. Let’s go,’ Edward repeated.
Too many calories? We were on holiday, FFS.
‘Okay,’ I agreed reluctantly. We were here for two weeks, so I supposed I could get dessert another day.
Edward got up and I followed him, excited about the next part of the evening.
When Romeo gave me the tour he said that there was a cocktail bar open until midnight, so we could get a drink there and chat.
Or once our food had settled, I’d definitely be up for skinny-dipping. Could be a fun way to help break the ice.
It wasn’t every day that I got to spend time in a five-star, all-inclusive hotel in Italy with a beach and the sea right here to enjoy, so I wanted to make the most of it.
‘You are leaving?’ the ma?tre d’, whose name and crazy job title I couldn’t remember, asked as we reached the door.
‘You do not want dessert?’ Romeo added, his face crumpled, but still annoyingly handsome.
I was gagging for dessert. I spotted the couple on the table opposite ours sharing a panna cotta and was dying to see if it tasted as good as it looked, but spending time with my match was more important.
‘No,’ Edward answered for me. ‘The salad was sufficient and Samantha ate enough pasta to sink the Titanic , so it’s better if we don’t.’
Wait, what? I didn’t eat that much pasta. Just a standard portion.
I opened my mouth to tell him so, then clamped it shut. It wasn’t worth messing up our first date by debating how much I ate.
‘If you are sure?’ Romeo’s eyes flicked to mine and I looked away before he saw from my expression that I absolutely was not sure.
‘Certain.’ Edward jumped in before I had a chance to reply. ‘Night, Ricardo.’
‘Thanks, Romeo ,’ I added, emphasising his correct name.
‘ Prego ,’ he replied. He looked like he was about to say something else, but Edward opened the door and stepped outside before I followed.
It was still warm and the stars lit up the sky so beautifully. This was the perfect time for an evening stroll.
‘I’m that way.’ Edward pointed. ‘Sleep well.’
As he walked off, my jaw dropped.
So we weren’t going for a beach walk or for cocktails.
I didn’t get it.
One minute we were chatting about the stuff we had in common.
Then the next he suggested we leave (without dessert) and instead of going on to do something else, he’d decided to go to his room.
What the hell?