Chapter Thirty-Six
It’s a couple of days until I get to meet up with Noah.
A couple of days that I’ve avoided Jonah, holing myself up in my bedroom every time we were in the flat together, sneaking around every time I needed to use the kitchen or the bathroom, feeling like an interloper in my own home. Jonah’s words ringing in my ears.
But today I will prove to Jonah – to the universe – that I know what I’m doing.
There are butterflies as I push open the door of the restaurant we’ve arranged to meet at for lunch, and I push a hand against the fluttering in my stomach as I scan the room for Noah.
He isn’t here yet and I puff out a sigh of…
not relief, because I want to see him, to move this relationship up a notch.
But it does feel a lot like relief. I push the thought away and head for the bar, ordering a gin and tonic in the hope it will settle my nerves.
Normally, I’d message Jonah to reassure me, but I can’t do that now, so I have only myself to rely on.
The door opens, bringing with it a blast of cold air, and there’s that feeling of relief again when I twist on my stool and see that it isn’t Noah heading inside. I drain my drink and order another.
Noah arrives while I’m a third through my second G&T, and I’m relieved to feel a jolt of pleasure when I see his smiling face.
See? I am happy to see him. I want to spend time with him.
He’s a handsome guy and he’s fun and chatty and it doesn’t matter that I feel zip all when he presses his lips to my cheek in greeting.
‘Camping or glamping?’
We’re seated in the restaurant, plates of food and replenished drinks in front of us, and Noah has resurrected the This-or-That game.
‘I’ve never been camping or glamping, but if I had to choose based on assumptions…’ I stab a piece of chicken and pop it in my mouth, considering the options while I chew. ‘I’d have to go for glamping.’ I scrunch up my nose. ‘Is that a really wussy answer?’
Noah laughs and shakes his head. ‘If it is, I’m a wuss too. I have been camping, and it was awful. Cold, hard ground, spiders.’ He shudders. ‘I’d take a double bed in a heated yurt over that.’
‘A double bed in a heated yurt sounds like bliss. But.’ I meet Noah’s eye. ‘Do you take the left or the right side of the bed?’
‘I’m a leftie.’
‘Perfect, because I have to be on the right. We’re a match made in a heated yurt.’ I pop another piece of chicken in my mouth while Noah takes a long gulp of his drink. ‘Big family or small family?’
Noah splutters, covering his mouth with his hand to stop his drink from being spat out across the table, and I feel I should clarify my question as I seem to have startled the man.
‘I wasn’t asking how many babies you want to have with me.’ At least I don’t think I was. Not yet.
‘No. Course not. Because I think you’re a great girl.
’ Noah takes my hand across the table, but he can’t keep the contact going and lets go, fiddling with his glass instead.
‘And you’re beautiful, obviously.’ (He absolutely does say this.
I’m not bigging myself up here.) ‘And we’ve had fun, haven’t we?
’ He drops his gaze to the table, to the small puddle the condensation from his glass has created, and he pushes his fingertip into it.
‘But the thing is.’ He clears his throat, eyes still trained down on the condensation puddle and the way it’s spreading with his finger.
‘The thing is, I don’t think we have that spark, you know?
Like I said, you’re a great girl, and I really like you, I think we’d be great as friends but…
’ He sneaks a peek up at me. ‘I hope you understand.’
Disappointment pangs in my stomach. This is it, the end of any potential relationship. Noah isn’t going to be the one who ends the wish. But there’s something else mixed in with the disappointment. Relief again? No, this is something heavier. Darker.
I stoop to meet his gaze. ‘I understand, and you’re right.
But what do we do about…’ I close my eyes, because I’ve realised that the heavy thing I’m feeling is dread.
Because Sally has forgotten about the Kit thing and she’s back to her old, happy self, but it won’t take much to make her snap again. ‘What happens with Brian?’
Noah’s brow furrows and he leans back in his chair. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The George Michael thing. New Year’s Eve.’ I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs under the table. ‘What does us not… you know… what does that mean for the gig?’
The ridges on Noah’s brow deepen. ‘Why would it mean anything? You still want him to play, don’t you? Because he’s proper hyped-up about it. He says it’s his comeback gig.’
‘I still want him to play but I thought that maybe…’ I shrug and the ridges smooth themselves out on Noah’s forehead.
‘You thought I’d pull the plug because we’ve decided we’re better as mates?’ He tuts and rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be daft. Like I said, he’s really looking forward to it. He’d be devastated if I took it away from him.’
Now it’s my time to puff out a breath. I may not have The One to end the wish, but at least I won’t have to feel Sally’s wrath again.