Chapter 27
SAMMIE
I’d like to say Mum and I have learned a lot, since our trip to Monaco a couple of weeks ago – that said, if she had learned from the experience, I doubt she would have tricked me here tonight.
I suppose I deserve it. I tricked her into going to an over-fifties dating event. So maybe it’s karma, that she’s brought me to a thirty-somethings one.
Do you know what? I think I preferred the over-fifties night. Single men in their thirties, the kind who come to events like this, are so not my type. It’s like they think they can smell desperation on us all – the only thing I’m desperate to do is leave.
‘I cannot believe you,’ I tell her, in my break between chatting to ineligible bachelors. Some are more ineligible than others. I saw one guy pocket his wedding ring.
‘Consider us even,’ she says. ‘Plus, I’m having a lovely time.’
‘You’re having a lovely time because no one is questioning whether or not you’re actually in your thirties,’ I tell her.
I, on the other hand, am hating ‘Flirty Thirty Friday’ – I especially hate the name.
‘Now, now, darling,’ she replies. ‘We both said we would be more open to meeting people.’
We did – and I regret it already.
‘Hey, baby,’ a man interrupts us.
Oh, brilliant, he’s talking to my mum, not me.
‘Right, that’s it, we’re going home,’ I tell her.
‘We are not going home,’ she says, linking her arm through mine before I can escape. ‘One more drink – come on, even if it’s just the two of us.’
Amazing really, how the vibe of The Loft shifts with the clientele. The vibe tonight is like, I’m over thirty, but I’m still fun, and I want to meet someone, and apparently I’m not that fussy any more…
I really, truly, honestly think I’d rather get back on the apps. This place makes Matcher seem like a fairy tale.
Mum orders two cocktails then hands one to me.
‘To meeting new people,’ she says.
I reluctantly clink my glass with hers.
‘Hey, ladies,’ a tall man, probably pushing forty, says as he approaches us. ‘I wish I’d brought a buddy – I feel bad interrupting you and your friend.’
‘We’re not friends,’ Mum explains. ‘Well, we are, but this is my daughter.’
‘Your daughter?’ he blurts. ‘Did you adopt her when you were six?’
As Mum giggles gleefully, I realise it was her he came over to talk to, not me.
I take a big swig of my drink as they chat, hoping time will start to move faster.
I have spent the last week or so trying to get back to normal life, which would be easier if normal life hadn’t started looking faintly inadequate in comparison to our adventures in Monaco.
My house is the same – Mum still lives with me.
Work is the same. The men in the office still bug me.
They still don’t think I’m good enough. I have still got emails to answer, reports to check and colleagues who ask me questions they could solve themselves if they could be bothered.
And yet everything feels different. Like things have changed in a way that I can’t undo.
I have tried not to think about him – Nico, I need to be brave enough to say his name – but he creeps into my thoughts now and then. I don’t know if it’s worse that I can’t message him, because I don’t have his number, or better, because it removes all temptation.
I keep thinking about the look on his face when I left on the stag-do yacht. He looked how I felt – crushed.
‘You’re doing that thing again,’ Mum says.
I notice her new fella has gone.
‘What thing?’ I ask.
‘Looking like you’re arguing with yourself and losing,’ she replies.
‘I’m not losing,’ I insist, although generally I do lose most of my argument simulations.
‘Anyway, come on, follow me, I’m meeting a friend here,’ she tells me.
‘You have a friend at a flirty thirties singles night?’ I reply – but of course she does. ‘You have friends in their thirties?’
‘Just you,’ she says, nodding towards one of the booths. ‘And him.’
The first person I notice is Hank, who I assume she isn’t referring to. Then I see Nico sitting next to him, looking as reluctant to be here as I feel.
Hank says something to Nico, then points in our direction. Nico glances around. He sees Mum first… then me.
His expression changes. Shock, happiness, then something that looks a little sad. Exactly how I’m feeling.
Hank, however, is grinning like the Cheshire cat, so he was obviously in on this with my mum.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Mum, no…’
Mum says nothing.
‘Did you…?’
‘Darling, I just want you to be happy,’ she insists. ‘Would you please go talk to him, clear the air?’
I look over at the two of them. I imagine Hank is giving Nico a similar pep talk.
‘You set me up again – will you ever learn?’ I ask her, although I can’t help but smile.
‘No,’ she says, rubbing my shoulder. ‘I’m your mother.’
Across the room, Hank lifts one hand in a cheerful little wave. Then he beckons us over.
I guess this is it, time to face the music, to have a heart to heart with Nico.
He looks at me as we walk over. He’s not smiling… although he’s not not smiling either. He looks concerned, but not like he’s going to tell me to piss off, which is a good start.
Hank heads towards us, leaving Nico in the booth.
Mum straightens up beside me. She suddenly looks nervous too.
‘He’s waiting for you,’ Hank tells me. ‘And you… let me buy you a drink.’
Mum beams. You can tell she’s missed him.
I head over to Nico and sit down next to him.
‘Hi,’ I say simply.
‘Hi,’ he replies. ‘They got you too, eh? I should have known there would be trouble, when I realised I was at something called Flirty Thirty…’
‘Yeah, Mum told me this was just a drink,’ I reply.
‘Dad too,’ he says. ‘Glad to see everyone has learned their lesson.’
I laugh. It feels nice to be normal with him – strange as this is.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
A week ago, things were so different. We could lie in bed together, in silence, with the awkwardness gone. It was almost fun – charged with heat and tension. This is just awkward again.
‘I really didn’t know you’d be here,’ he says first. ‘It is nice to see you though.’
‘You too,’ I tell him – it really is.
Another pause. Then…
‘I’m sorry,’ he says then.
‘You’re sorry?’ I reply. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry.’
‘I should have been more open and honest with you,’ he tells me. ‘I should have said more…’
‘I should have said less,’ I reply. ‘I think, after we slept together, I panicked – because I liked you so much, and then your dad said all this stuff about how you needed somewhere to live, and you didn’t have a proper job, and you didn’t settle down with anyone…’
He laughs.
‘In the interest of my saying more,’ he says, before clearing his throat.
‘I have a house – it’s Dad who lives with me, not me who lives with him.
I don’t know why he makes my job sound like I work in a game shop, but I don’t, I make video games – War Zombies is my baby.
And finally, it’s true, I have struggled to settle down with people, but not because I don’t want to, because I’m scared to.
I know my dad will have wanted to make me seem cool, acting like I’m this stud about town, but I find it hard to let people in, because I worry about losing them. There – I said it.’
‘I totally understand that,’ I reply. ‘I think, for me, when I thought it wasn’t anything serious, I panicked, because I wanted it to be, and I felt so silly for letting myself get carried away, but I’m like you, I’m scared to go all in on the wrong person, because life feels so short, so I prefer certainty, and safe bets, and when I don’t get them… ’
‘You self-destruct?’ he checks.
I nod.
‘Yes, but not in like a fun way,’ I reply. ‘I just ruin my own day, potentially my own life, and stick with what I know. Work, nights in with Mum, the occasional date to prove to myself that it’s not what I want. But with you it felt different.’
‘I feel different with you too,’ he replies. ‘Like giving things a go might not be so scary… But when you said we should forget what happened…’
‘You agreed,’ I reply. ‘Making me think I was right to say it…’
He laughs.
‘What a mess, eh?’ he says eventually. ‘All the games, the pretending – it was all a waste of time. All we needed to do was be honest with each other.’
‘I guess I’m not as good at that as I thought,’ I admit.
‘Me too,’ he replies. ‘But I’m ready to start. Like right now, because, did you know your mum is snogging my dad over by the bar?’
I glance over and – WOW – sure enough, they’re kissing, and they’re really going for it.
I feel Nico’s hand on my face, gently moving my attention back to him. He leaves his hand there as he looks into my eyes.
‘I like you, Sammie.’
There it is. No joke. No games. Just the truth.
‘I like you too,’ I reply. ‘And not because my mum wants me to, or because your dad is holding me hostage…’
He laughs.
‘And it’s that simple?’ he checks.
‘I suppose it is,’ I reply.
We edge our faces closer together, only giving up a millimetre or so each at a time, until eventually we join together and kiss. It’s different to last time, less sexually charged, but somehow much deeper. Like it really means something.
‘Wehey,’ Hank cheers as he and Mum join us. ‘You did it!’
I can’t help but laugh.
‘We’ll get champagne and be right back,’ Mum tells us.
Champagne – wow. This really is a celebration.
‘So what do we do?’ I ask Nico, once we’re alone.
‘We just… give it a go,’ he says. ‘See what happens.’
‘I like that – no pressure,’ I reply. ‘I can do that.’
Mum and Hank arrive back, with a bottle and four glasses. They slide in across from us.
‘Well, this definitely deserves a toast,’ Hank says. ‘The Monaco gang back together.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Mum replies.
Hank pours a glass for each of us.
‘You know, Nico and I were planning a holiday – seeing as though this one went a bit wrong,’ he says. ‘We’re going to the Bahamas, aren’t we, lad?’
‘Barbados,’ Nico corrects him. ‘We’re going to Barbados.’
‘Good thing I’m not the one flying the plane,’ Hank jokes. ‘Anyway, Chrissy, I’d love it if you came with me – and Sammie, I’m sure Nico would love you to be there.’
I turn to him.
‘I would,’ he says without missing a beat.
‘I’d love that,’ I reply.
‘Yes, count us in,’ Mum says excitedly.
And then she and Hank start kissing again, like they’ve been waiting weeks to do it – I suppose they have.
‘So… we’re going to Barbados?’ I say to Nico is disbelief.
His mouth curves into a smile. He takes my face in his hands again and leans into my ear.
‘No… they’re going to Barbados,’ he replies. ‘We’re going to the Bahamas.’
I laugh.
‘That sounds like a much better plan to me,’ I tell him.
And then we kiss again.
I know, I’m a girl who likes a plan, and this plan doesn’t seem to stretch beyond going to the Bahamas with Nico (while somehow tricking our parents into going to Barbados instead), but do you know what? I like it. No pressure, nothing to worry about – just me and Nico seeing what happens.
And it does feel like anything can happen… This is only the beginning.