Chapter Fourteen Seven Years Earlier
Chapter Fourteen
Seven Years Earlier
Adam spoke about our first date in his wedding speech.
‘After finally persuading Lily to go out with me, I wanted everything to be perfect, but nothing went the way I’d planned . . .’
He wasn’t wrong.
He’d been both persistent and inventive in asking me out, making it increasingly hard to keep turning him down. And each time I did, it was difficult to remember why I kept saying no.
‘Okay, how about an escape room? And if we don’t get out in the allotted time, I’ll buy you dinner.’
‘And if we do get out?’
‘I’ll still buy you dinner. Basically, it’s a win-win as far as dinner goes.’
I laughed. ‘I’m not sure escape rooms are my kind of thing.’ What I actually meant was that I wasn’t sure being locked up in close proximity with him was such a good idea. Not because I didn’t like him; I already knew from our numerous phone calls that I did. I think my biggest concern was that I might be starting to like him a little too much .
My suggestion came so unexpectedly I surprised even myself. ‘Maybe we could do something outdoors . . . ?’ Had he been standing in front of me, instead of at the end of a phone line, Adam would have seen the way I was nervously biting my lip as I waited for his reply.
‘I love outdoors,’ he said, with such warmth and enthusiasm, I wondered why I was trying so hard to keep our relationship purely in the friend zone.
Because you’re an idiot, who’s still waiting for something you should have given up on a long time ago. Josh was never going to be anything more than an impossible fantasy, and the sooner I stopped hoping for anything more from him than friendship, the better it would be for both of us. Maybe it was finally time to open myself up to other options.
‘How about a picnic?’ I said, glancing out the window at the brilliant summer sunshine. The forecast for the next few weeks promised more of the same.
‘Done!’ said Adam with the speed of an auctioneer closing a sale. ‘How does tomorrow sound?’
Which was how I found myself giving him my address and, without realising it, opening a whole new door to my future.
My doorbell rang at the exact time Adam had arranged to pick me up. Unlike Josh, whose arrival time was always a rough approximation or a complete surprise.
‘Stop doing that,’ I sternly commanded my reflection as I gave my appearance one last check before running to the front door. My new white shorts looked good against the tan that was still lingering after a week spent under the Spanish sun. The shorts went well with the pale blue chambray shirt that I’d knotted at my waist. White trainers and simple silver hoops in my ears completed my look, and a high ponytail that swished from side to side as I hurried to let him in.
My breath caught in my throat as I opened the door to Adam. I’d forgotten how tall he was, and also how good-looking. Not like Josh was, in a dark, brooding, Austen hero kind of way. Adam was somehow . . . golden. It was the colour of the natural highlights the sun had streaked into his hair. It was there in the flecks in his hazel eyes. And it dusted like fool’s gold on the downy hair on his arms and legs. Like me, he’d dressed for the forecasted hot weather, in cargo shorts and a plain white tee. He was more muscular than I’d remembered, and had I known him better I’d have teasingly asked if he’d been putting in some extra gym time in the weeks since we’d first met, because that’s exactly what I’d have said to Josh.
I hesitated after my first ‘Hi’, unsure if I should invite him in or grab my denim jacket and the bottle of prosecco I’d plucked from the fridge and just go. He seemed to sense my indecision and took a step back on to the pavement, giving me my cue.
‘All set?’ he asked with a smile that radiated even more warmth than the August sunshine.
‘Absolutely,’ I said, following him to the pavement. His car was parked a little further down the road, the sunlight gleaming off the panels so brilliantly I was glad of the polarising tint of my sunglasses.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought Fletcher with me. He’s waiting in the car.’
A silent warning buzzer sounded in my head. It wasn’t that I was against meeting his friends . . . eventually . . . but I hadn’t expected him to bring a mate along on our first date.
‘Oh . . . no, that’s fine.’
‘I hope so. He’s under strict orders not to eat all the sandwiches or slobber all over you.’
I nodded slowly, wondering if it was too late to fabricate a sudden migraine, when Adam blipped the car and a furry black and white head popped out of the gap he’d left in the car’s rear window.
‘Ohhh. Fletcher is your dog,’ I said, on a cry that landed somewhere between amusement and relief.
Adam’s brows drew a little closer together. ‘Yes. I said that, didn’t I?’
I was grinning now, I couldn’t help it, especially as his dog appeared to be doing so too, as he delightedly greeted his owner as though he hadn’t seen him in months.
‘Actually, you didn’t. You made it sound like Fletcher was a friend.’
Adam reached in through the open window and gently fussed the dog’s head.
‘He’s that too.’
Something warm stirred in my stomach as I saw the expression in Adam’s eyes as he looked at his dog, and then turned molten when he swivelled that same gaze to look at me.
The phone calls and banter we’d shared since the day Adam had ‘rescued’ me ensured the conversation flowed easily during the journey. He was funny, self-deprecating, and a really good listener. He asked all kinds of questions about Rainbows and Cupcakes, and although I was watching closely, I didn’t once see his eyes glaze over as I talked about the business and the plans I had for its future.
‘One day I’ll be able to rent proper premises and maybe even get a delivery van rather than having to use Betty.’
‘Betty is a colleague?’
‘Betty is my car. You helped me change her tyre.’
This time it was his turn to smile.
‘I think we both know that isn’t true, but it’s kind of you to be gentle with my ego. Sadly, my knowledge of cars begins and ends with knowing where you put the petrol.’
I gave a quick grin, loving the way he didn’t seem to feel the need to conform to a stereotypical macho image.
‘I’m sure there are plenty of other things you’re good at doing.’
I hadn’t intended my words to sound suggestive or sexy, and yet somehow they managed to be both.
Adam took his eyes briefly off the road, just long enough for me to clock the cheeky twinkle in them.
‘Maybe I should let you decide on that.’
I felt my cheeks morph from rosy pink to deep cyclamen, but thankfully the traffic was busy enough to have reclaimed Adam’s attention. Something was fizzing quietly inside me, as though champagne had mysteriously infiltrated my veins.
I smiled secretly, suddenly really, really glad that I’d finally said yes to the man sitting beside me.
It wasn’t long before we were sweeping through a set of imposing wrought-iron gates to a royal park I’d never visited before. From the excited canine whines from the back seat, I didn’t think the same could be said for Adam’s dog.
‘It’s a nice place to come and unwind after a busy day,’ Adam explained, lifting the tailgate and flipping open a proper picnic basket to slip the wine I’d brought inside. My eyes widened at the impressive array of delicacies in the hamper, and the champagne flutes, crockery and linen strapped inside the lid.
‘Whoa. When you said you’d pick up the food for today, I thought you meant a couple of bags of crisps and some Marks & Spencer sandwiches.’
Adam’s laughter was light and yet it had the power of a magnet, making it impossible for me to look anywhere but at him.
‘I love how you’ve clearly pigeonholed me as a ready-meal-and-takeaway-pizza kind of guy.’
I bit my lower lip, but the grin was irrepressible and escaped anyway.
‘And you’re not?’
He reached into the car and hefted out the basket with ease to balance it on one hip. ‘I think you’re going to have to agree to at least a second date to work out the answer to that one.’
It was a confident reply, the kind that would normally have me running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. But sprinting away from Adam Tennant was surprisingly the last thing on my mind. And for the first time in a very long while, so too was Josh.
We found a perfect spot a little off the main thoroughfare through the park. My trainers sank into deep, springy turf as we left the paved pathway and headed up an incline to a shady spot among a cluster of oaks. I glanced around me, curiously pleased to see that none of the surrounding trees were sycamores.
‘Is here okay?’ Adam asked, watching me carefully as I inspected the woodland. I nodded happily, and he set the picnic basket on the ground.
We unpacked it together, and there was an ease and unexpected familiarity as our hands delved into the basket, occasionally colliding, fingers accidentally grazing each other. Or maybe not accidentally at all.
The prosecco was still chilled from my fridge, and it felt both decadent and delightful to be sipping it from crystal flutes under a blue cloudless sky. Fletcher turned out to be an excellent chaperone, ensuring that no sparks of electricity – however potent – were more important than repeatedly throwing a frisbee for him.
‘He’s tireless,’ I said, leaning back on my elbows and watching Adam’s pet launch himself high into the air to retrieve the plastic disc.
‘He’s like a child. An extremely hairy, energetic child,’ Adam said, his voice warm with affection.
‘Do you want them – children, I mean? Obviously not right this minute, I mean in the future. Someday. You know . . . whenever.’
It had to be the biggest red-flag question anyone could ask on a first date, and I could feel the sides caving in on the hole I’d just dug myself into. But Adam looked totally relaxed and unfazed by my curiosity.
He dropped down on to the tartan blanket beside me and threw the frisbee even further for Fletcher, as though his answer was for my ears only. ‘One day, with the right person, I’d love to have kids.’
‘Me too,’ I said quietly, reaching for the wine glass he’d just refilled. Our eyes met over the crystal flutes as though it was a toast, and neither of us heard the silent click of our future life falling into place like a puzzle piece.
I didn’t see her walk up to us. I had no idea we were no longer alone until her shadow fell over the spread of picnic fare on the checked cloth. I looked up, using my hand as a visor as the figure paused for a moment and then carefully lowered herself on to the blanket beside us.
My eyes flew to Adam, but the expression in his was just as confused as mine.
‘Oh, you have cherry tomatoes. I love those,’ said the elderly woman, reaching into the container and extracting a plump red fruit. She smiled happily at me before popping the tomato into her mouth. There was a childlike expression of pure delight as she bit into it. I glanced back at Adam, my eyes silently telegraphing a question. Do you know this person?
A vague smile hovered on his lips as he almost imperceptibly shook his head.
‘Do you know what, I might just have another one. Is that very naughty of me?’ the old lady asked, with an almost girlish giggle.
‘By all means,’ Adam said graciously, as though the stranger was an honoured guest.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, waiting until the woman had finished her mouthful and before her hand connected with the plate of sausage rolls she was reaching for. ‘It’s really terrible of me, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.’
The elderly intruder paused with the sausage roll poised halfway to her lips. ‘Oh, it’s . . . it’s . . .’ Her eyes clouded over, and after a moment they unexpectedly filled with tears. ‘Oh dear. I can’t seem to remember it either . . . Why don’t I know my name . . . ?’
My heart broke at the despair in her voice, but Adam handled it perfectly. He leant across the blanket and laid a gentle hand on the old lady’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, it happens to me all the time.’ He lied so smoothly I almost believed him myself.
While our uninvited guest munched contentedly on a pastry, Adam moved closer to whisper in my ear. Despite the weird situation, one part of my brain took a moment to enjoy the sensation of his breath against my skin.
‘I’m going to take a walk around and see if she’s with anyone. Are you okay staying here with her until I get back? I won’t be long.’
I nodded, watching as the elderly woman reached for the Kalamata olives. I’d be fine, so long as our picnic food held out.
Adam gave me a gentle smile which he extended to the older woman. ‘You should try one of the mini pork pies, they’re really delicious.’
He couldn’t have been gone for more than fifteen minutes, but it felt like so much longer. The old lady had taken a break from working her way through our lunch after spotting Fletcher.
‘Oh, what a sweet little doggy. Is he yours?’
It seemed easier to simply say yes.
‘I think I used to have a dog. Did I bring her with me today?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said, feeling at a total loss. I had no experience of dealing with people with dementia, which I was fairly sure this sweet old lady was suffering from. Instinctively I knew it wasn’t helpful to bombard her with questions, so it seemed best to allow her to sit happily on the picnic blanket beside me until Adam returned. Not that she was particularly bothered about chatting to me anyway, because Fletcher was of far more interest.
It was a good five minutes before I noticed that she’d been secretly feeding him tiny mouthfuls from the pot of paté we hadn’t even tried yet. Fletcher was blissfully eating from her sticky fingers with a look that suggested all of his Christmases had come at once.
‘Rose, my darling, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
The man’s voice was breathless, either from the climb up the hill or with anxiety at having misplaced his companion.
‘Where did you go, my darling?’ the elderly man said, getting to his knees with a gunshot crack of protesting bones. ‘I was so worried when I couldn’t find you.’ He pressed a kiss on the woman’s wispy grey hair. ‘I’d only popped to the gents for a moment,’ he explained to me in an exaggerated whisper.
‘Oh, I was perfectly fine. These lovely people asked me if I’d like to join them for their picnic, so I did,’ said the woman, who we now knew was called Rose. ‘And then I met their sweet little doggy and we’ve been sharing this lovely feast together.’
Adam’s eyes went to the now almost-empty pot of paté, and I caught an expression that was more concerned than amused.
I bit my lip guiltily. Was paté bad for dogs?
‘Come on, my love. Let’s leave these kind people to enjoy their picnic in peace,’ said the older man, getting back to his feet with an alarming wobble that caused Adam to take a step closer in case he fell.
‘But I haven’t finished my lunch yet,’ Rose protested, her lower lip trembling like a five-year-old’s.
I had no idea what to say, but Adam didn’t even miss a beat.
‘Please, won’t you both stay and join us? I’ve brought far too much for just Lily and me.’
‘Oh no, we couldn’t intrude,’ said the man, who I assumed was Rose’s husband and carer.
My eyes met Adam’s and I saw the apology in them, and something flipped inside me at the kindness of this man.
‘Really, we’d love you to have lunch with us,’ I added with a smile.
Our date had taken a surprising detour, but over the next forty-five minutes, as we shared our picnic with Rose and her slightly embarrassed husband, Frank, strangely I learnt more about Adam than I could ever have done after weeks of dating. And there wasn’t a single thing I discovered that I didn’t like.
By the time we waved goodbye to our lunchtime companions, the skies had grown cloudier and a breeze was whipping through the trees. The first fat spots of rain fell when the hamper was still only half packed. I looked skywards as forked lightning streaked across a sky that was rapidly darkening to the colour of a bruise.
‘This was not meant to happen,’ Adam said, gathering up plates and containers and bundling them into the picnic basket with more haste than care. We were a good twenty-minute walk from where we’d left the car, and there was nowhere nearby to shelter safely.
In just minutes our clothes were plastered to our skin, which was nowhere near as sexy as Hollywood would have you believe. Though Adam’s white t-shirt had turned interestingly transparent, as diverting as that was, I was horribly afraid my shorts might be about to do the same.
‘Sit it out or make a run for it?’ he asked as thunder rumbled in the distance.
‘Run,’ I said decisively.
The grass was slippery, and the hill steep, so when Adam held out his hand, I didn’t hesitate to place mine within his firm grip. But when we reached the safety of the pathway, he didn’t release it and I didn’t tug it free. We were laughing as we ran through the rain, swerving puddles and dodging Fletcher, who seemed to think it was all an enormous game.
When the car park was in sight we put on a final burst of speed, falling breathlessly against the vehicle like sprinters crossing a finishing line. Adam was fumbling in his pocket for the car keys when a weird retching sound made me spin around, and I saw Fletcher hunkered down low, his sides heaving alarmingly. The question of whether it was wise to feed dogs paté was answered seconds later, very graphically. Adam immediately dropped to a crouch beside his poorly dog.
‘It’s okay, buddy, you’re okay,’ he gently crooned, running his hand down the dog’s back until the worst was over. Fletcher looked up at his owner with sorrowful eyes. ‘It’s not your fault, boy. Don’t worry.’
Adam passed me the car keys, urging me to get out of the downpour, but I made no move to open the door. I just stood there in the rain watching this big man, with his big heart, crouched down on the ground, soothing his frightened dog.
Even though his attention was all on Fletcher, Adam must have somehow sensed my eyes were on him. He looked up with an expression of apology.
‘I’m so sorry, Lily. Nothing about today has gone the way I planned. In fact, it’s hard to imagine a first date going any worse than this.’
‘Really? I was just thinking the exact opposite.’
‘You were?’
I loved the way his eyes widened and then lit up at my reply. Very slowly, I nodded and started to smile.
Adam gave a flash of the grin I was going to fall in love with. I just didn’t know it yet.
‘I guess it will make a great story one day.’
And he was right. It did.