Chapter 40
Oliver wanted to go out for dinner when I got home. He resorted to sneaky tricks to get me to agree. It’s worrying how he knows I have a traitorous body. We had one passionate kiss on the sofa and the words ‘Okay, let’s go out to eat’ flew out of my mouth.
I can’t believe I am here. The restaurant he’s chosen is dimly lit and filled with flickering candles and purple velvet booths. It’s the sort of place I used to see in my nightmares where couples feed each other garlic mussels and lock eyes over goat’s cheese tarts.
We’re sitting close together in a velvet booth.
While we waited for our table and struggled to keep our hands off each other, he asked me whether playing footsie under the table and sexy back rubs would be permitted.
Before I had a chance to answer he kissed me and I came up for air gasping the word ‘yes’.
‘You look great, Nelly,’ he says as his eyes wander over my face, my hair, which is not in its usual messy bun but is spread over my shoulders with the ends containing some soft curls, and my pearl-coloured satin shirt.
‘How was your day at the bookshop?’ he asks after we have given our food order to the waiter.
I tell him about Amber, Ben and Alice. His face lights up when I explain how I brought Ben and Alice together. ‘Nelly, this is brilliant. I am proud of you. Soon you will be filling up your bookshelves with my romance books.’
‘Careful,’ I say as he leans in for a kiss.
Our starters arrive, and the waiter’s hand brushes mine.
Once the light clears, I can see him listening to a woman letting him down gently in a bar.
She’s talking about how there is someone else, a waiter who works in a nearby restaurant.
I watch as she stresses that nothing has happened yet, apart from some flirting over garlic bread, but she can’t stop thinking about him.
The world becomes muffled. Oliver is speaking to me, but I can’t hear him. What I have noticed is that my visions don’t have the same effect on me recently. I don’t feel sad about what is going to happen to this waiter. There is no ache in my chest.
The sounds of cutlery, clinking of glasses and someone exclaiming at the size of their steak rush towards my ears.
‘Nelly, I’d love to know what’s going on inside that head of yours.’ Oliver has placed his hand on my arm.
With my fork, I attack my goat’s cheese tart. ‘Trust me, Oliver, you don’t want to know.’
‘But that’s where you are wrong.’
‘What do you mean?’
He takes a sip from his wine and looks at me with his warm brown eyes. ‘I care about you, Nelly.’
His words ignite what feels like a firework display inside me. I shift in my seat as bursts of energy shoot across my chest like rockets, and my heart spins like a Catherine wheel.
‘Really?’
He laughs. ‘You say that in a shocked way.’
I smile. ‘It’s nice to hear.’
He kisses my cheek, and I sigh with contentment.
We finish our starters and kiss a lot before our main course arrives. I must say his footsie skills underneath the table are impressive.
‘How long have you been single?’ he asks as we surface for air.
His words make me think of Sam. ‘About a year.’
‘What happened? If you don’t want to say, I understand.’
‘I caught him kissing his ex-girlfriend in the back room of the bookshop.’
Oliver’s eyebrows travel up his forehead at speed. ‘Really?’ I nod, and he takes my hand. ‘That’s horrible.’
I notice there is still no sad ache when I think of Sam.
‘Are you willing to give me and love a chance, Nelly?’
With a smile I press my lips against his. ‘Yes, I am.’
When we get home, it’s a struggle not to knock down the pillow wall.
Our goodnight kiss is intense. Ripples of pleasure pass through my body as his hands brush over my hips.
I’m desperate to see his chest, so I start unbuttoning his pyjama shirt.
At this point, my brain awakens. What on earth am I doing?
The old me would not recognise this wild new version of me who goes to restaurants, plays footsie under the table, and starts undressing a man.
I stop myself. He smiles as my face turns the colour of beetroot. ‘I’m happy to take it slow, Nelly.’