Chapter Thirty-Five Lee
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lee
‘So I’m guessing a pizza joint is not a typical Lee Turner-Jones date night,’ Nico says as we look at each other from our vinyl seats across the small table.
I try not to react to him calling this a date.
‘What’s a typical Lee Turner-Jones date night?’ I ask, sipping at my water.
He narrows his eyes, considering. ‘Hmmm. Maybe drinks at a wine bar, one of those fancy tasting menus at a slick London restaurant. Finishing off with a glass of expensive brandy somewhere with moody lighting.’
As this is exactly what Adrian and I did the last time we went out I only shrug hopelessly.
‘But do you know what?’ There’s a glint in Nico’s eye, his lips curl into that devastating half smile. ‘I know you pretty well, Lee Turner-Jones. I think you’ll enjoy this more.’
I feel the answering smile pull at my mouth even as I try to fight it. ‘I think you’re probably right.’
I glance around the pizzeria, which is a bright, cheerful space.
The table is covered in a red gingham cloth, and there’s an electric tea light flickering in a glass holder next to our bread basket.
Buzzy bossa nova comes over the speakers, and the place hums with conversation as other customers dig into pizzas the size of carriage wheels.
There are several families sharing a meal together.
‘I like this place,’ I say. ‘I never got to go to this kind of restaurant as a kid.’ It’s almost impossible to imagine my parents anywhere without actual silverware. Gran wasn’t exactly a fast food enthusiast either.
‘Phoebe had her birthday party here.’ Nico looks haunted. ‘Eleven eight-year-olds. It was like being in a war zone. I still have nightmares. I should warn you we’ll both be dead to her if we don’t take some leftovers home.’
‘She already made me promise I would,’ I say.
Nico barks out a laugh. ‘And me. Did she do the big eyes on you?’
‘From behind the glasses?’ I touch a hand to my heart, shaking my head. ‘It kills me. I’d give her both of my kidneys if she asked me while making that face. Even though I know she’d only sell them on the black market. I haven’t spent a ton of time with kids, but I love hanging out with her.’
‘She’s very into you, too,’ Nico says and leans back in his seat.
‘Do you think so?’ I ask, impossibly pleased.
‘CIAO!’ a voice belts from beside me, making me jump. ‘My favourite married couple!’
‘Hi, Stefano,’ I greet the older man with the salt and pepper moustache whose real name I know perfectly well is Steve, mentally thanking Mei’s flashcards. ‘Is Rosie in tonight, too?’
Stefano beams. ‘She isn’t, but when I saw the reservation I let her know you two were coming and she said to tell you she hopes she’ll see you at craft club on Tuesday. You were a big hit!’
We make small talk for another couple of minutes and then Nico orders a pizza with an irresponsible number of toppings and a bottle of house red, and Stefano disappears back to the kitchen. A short time later we’re digging into the biggest pizza I’ve ever seen.
‘Oh, this is so good,’ I moan. ‘Maybe Stefano is actually Italian?’
‘Stefano is about as Italian as a plate of chicken nuggets,’ Nico snorts. ‘And are you actually going to eat your pizza with a knife and fork? Come on, tidy girl, live a little.’
He holds his slice of pizza out across the table.
‘Sorry for having excellent table manners,’ I scoff, but I lean over and take a bite.
‘Even the way you bite into things is neat.’ He shakes his head. ‘I can see your perfect little teeth marks.’ Under the table his leg presses against mine and I smile.
By the time I push my plate back and away from me, stuffed, my fingers are sticky. I wipe them on a napkin and then extract a bottle of hand sanitiser from my handbag.
When I look up, Nico is grinning at me. ‘Ate a fully loaded pizza with your fingers while wearing a cream top and didn’t spill a thing. A miracle.’
‘Thank you, Nicolas,’ I say primly, taking a sip of my red wine – which is actually very decent – ‘I can, and have, eaten my meals for many years now without throwing food down my front.’
‘Okay, princess,’ he says, and then he crooks a finger, gesturing for me to lean over the table towards him.
When I do he picks up a napkin and presses it to my cheek, softly swiping over the corner of my mouth.
His finger brushes against my lip, and it feels like a tiny electric shock travels all the way down to my toes.
‘You have a little sauce,’ he murmurs, ‘just here.’
When he pulls back, I ease myself away, falling into my seat with an audible thump.
‘So,’ I say after we spend a full thirty seconds staring greedily at each other. ‘We should probably talk.’
‘Mm hmm,’ Nico rumbles. ‘We should definitely talk.’ He reaches across the table, tangling his fingers with mine. ‘Do you know,’ he says mildly, ‘that it feels impossible not to be touching you all the time?’
I clear my throat. ‘I might know something about that, yes,’ I watch as his fingers toy with my own, as he gently twists the diamond ring that I’m still not used to wearing.
‘It’s been difficult for a long time,’ his eyes are still on our hands, ‘the not touching you part.’
I choke back a laugh at this. ‘Try going twenty-seven years.’
His fingers tighten briefly. When he looks at me, his eyes are wide. ‘Daisy…’ The way he says my name is full of too many things – wonder and tenderness and compassion and worry.
I pull my hand back, embarrassed. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything,’ I mutter.
‘I’m glad you did,’ he says gently. ‘But do you really mean—’
‘That I’ve had a giant crush on you since I was a kid?’ I ask ruefully. ‘Oh, yeah. Sorry. Have I freaked you out?’
‘No! I just had no idea. I’m trying to wrap my head around it.’ He exhales a long breath. ‘That’s a lot to live up to.’
He sounds so nervous that I smile. ‘Are you worried that I’ve idealised you,’ I ask, ‘that I think you’re perfect?’
He lifts a hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed. ‘Um… maybe?’
‘I know you’re not perfect.’
‘You don’t have to sound so sure about that. What’s wrong with me?’
‘You want a list?’
His mouth quirks. ‘I dare you to come up with a list. I’m delightful.’
‘You’re cocky. That’s on the list.’
‘I don’t see that as a flaw.’ He puts a little extra bass into his voice and I laugh.
‘You’re stubborn.’
‘So are you!’
‘We’re not doing my list.’ I wave this comment away with my hand.
‘You’d never hurt someone on purpose but you can be careless with people’s feelings, you’re slow to forgive people, and you get so grumpy when you’re hungry that I think you should consult a doctor about it.
You’re messy. You don’t own an iron. You are an awful cook. You have terrible taste in books—’
‘What do you know about my taste in books?’ he cuts in.
‘You have a stack by the bed. They’re all about Spitfires and the Second World War.’ I look at him. ‘Why are you smiling?’
‘Because you’re about to feel so bad,’ he smirks. ‘Phoebe was doing a project for school and I wanted to be able to answer her questions so I was reading up on stuff on the sly.’
‘No!’ I bang my hand on the table. ‘You were being an adorable single dad? You’re not a military history bore?’
‘Sorry.’ He leans back in his seat, crosses his arms across his chest. ‘I guess I’m closer to perfect than you thought.’
‘Damn it,’ I grumble. I really needed that one.
‘In fact,’ he’s looking at me with obvious enjoyment now, ‘I like to read all sorts of things. I even asked Tara for some good romance recommendations.’
‘You did not!’
He pulls his phone out his pocket and clicks through until he gets to the notes app which contains a list of a dozen of my favourite titles. ‘I already asked Mrs Penny to place the top three on hold for me at the library.’
I sink my head into my hands. ‘Fine, I give up. You’re perfect, too good to be true.’
He laughs, a light, happy sound. ‘No, I’m not, and everything else you said was totally right. I don’t know why hearing a list of my flaws felt so good, but here we are. I’m reassured. I’m a monster and you like me anyway.’
‘Yeah,’ I smile. ‘I suppose I do.’
‘I like you, too.’ He says it softly. ‘You know how much I care about you. That’s partly why this is so complicated.’ He gestures between us. ‘We’re so tangled up together, us, your family…’
‘I know,’ I agree.
‘Plus…’ He hesitates. ‘You know my situation, you know what my life looks like right now. I’m not sure I’m in a place to be a good partner to someone. I’m barely keeping my head above water as it is.’
Maybe because you need a partner, I think, but I don’t say it… it’s not like I can offer to be here with him, sharing the load.
‘And we live approximately 3,085 miles apart,’ I add instead, trying to ignore the dull ache in my chest.
‘You Googled it too,’ he sighs.
We both fall silent.
‘So,’ he says after a moment. ‘You know what that all means.’ He’s trying to make this as easy on me as possible.
I sit with it for a while, knowing that we need to be realistic. There’s no future for the two of us.
And yet.
‘I don’t want to be practical,’ I say finally.
He frowns. ‘What?’
‘Look, I understand what you’re saying… or working your way up to saying. I know that the practical choice is for us to draw a line under what happened today, to try and go back to the way things were.’
‘That is definitely the practical choice,’ he agrees slowly.
‘And I’m saying I don’t want that.’ I think about the argument Gran and I had, about the way I’ve been closing myself off so much – not just over the last year, but for much longer.
How I’ve made my world as safe as possible by keeping tight control on every element of my life.
I haven’t truly risked anything. Not for a long time… maybe not ever.
This thing with Nico is a huge gamble. It will almost certainly end with my heart smashed into a million pieces, and yet right now, in this moment, while I look at him across the table, I don’t care.
I know I’d take all the promised pain if it meant another week of us together.
I know I’d accept it in exchange for another hour.
‘I think we should take the next week. Like a gift,’ I say, my voice steady. I feel strangely calm about the decision. ‘We both know that it can’t last. We’re going in with our eyes wide open. We won’t leave things on bad terms. We won’t hurt each other.’
He hesitates. ‘I’m not sure that’s true.
I think you could hurt me, Lee. I think you have enough of me already to do that.
And I don’t ever want to be the one to make you unhappy.
We wouldn’t mean to, but that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t hurt each other.
Another week isn’t going to make that any less of a problem. ’
I press my lips together. Nod. ‘You’re right. It would be naive to say we’ll come out of it unscathed. But… I think it’s worth it. I understand if you don’t feel that way, trust me.’ I force a smile. ‘I’m not usually one to gamble on my feelings like this.’
It’s his turn to be quiet, long enough for my heart to start beating hard, for disappointment to well in my throat.
‘You forget I’ve played poker with you,’ he says finally. ‘I think you know exactly when to gamble.’
‘Is that a yes?’ I’m holding my breath now.
He rubs a hand over his mouth and nods again. ‘Of course it is. You can add “not doing the noble thing” to my list of flaws. I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s selfish, but I’m keeping you. For as long as I can. All of you.’
I exhale slowly. ‘Want to go and get a proper drink?’