Chapter 16 #2
The boat looked like one of the high-end ships Rosie had seen on some of the prestigious canals.
It was at least twice the size of the Forget-Me-Knot and felt more like a giant yacht that footballers owned.
The captain’s bit (she hadn’t learned the proper name for that yet) was shiny and black but without a giant wheel, like sailing ships had.
Instead, it had a small control deck and behind it, a small but elegant restaurant had been laid out.
‘Are we going on a dinner cruise?’ Rosie asked excitedly. Not only was she hungry but since she’d arrived, she’d longed to jump on one of the canal tours of the city, seeing her new home from its most famous landmarks. Max grinned, showing she was right. ‘But I thought you hated touristy things?’
‘I do, and if anyone appears with a backpack, I’ll throw it overboard. But I have to admit, it’s a brilliant way to see the city and this place serves some of the nicest food in Amsterdam.’
‘Have you been before then?’
‘Yes, once.’
He didn’t add any more, and Rosie wondered if it had been with Johanna.
The depth of her jealousy surprised her and threatened to dislodge her smile and her enjoyment of the evening.
She told herself not to be so petty. First of all, this wasn’t a date and secondly, she’d taken dates to the same pub often enough.
They were both adults and they both had baggage.
A man in a black uniform with shining brass buttons, who definitely wasn’t the captain, assisted her onto the deck and a waitress took over, showing them to their table.
The inside was all shining varnished wood and linen tablecloths.
Rosie felt like she’d walked onto the canal version of the Orient Express .
There was such an old-world feel to the place, helped by the piano jazz playing quietly through the speakers.
Other diners were already seated, perusing the menu.
‘Not a backpack in sight,’ she whispered to Max.
‘Thank God.’
The waitress explained she’d be back to take their order shortly and everyone would be served at the same time to enable them to then depart for the cruise as scheduled. They ordered their drinks, which were delivered within minutes, given it was such a small space.
‘This is incredible,’ Rosie said as the waitress poured them wine from the bottle of red they’d decided to share. ‘Where do they cook the food?’
Max pointed to a building opposite them. ‘The kitchen is there. They cook everything fresh.’
‘Amazing. So—’ She turned to Max and for a second considered asking him if he’d brought Johanna here, then decided better of it. ‘What were you sketching today and has it restarted your creativity?’
He laughed, pushing his hair back from his face. ‘It doesn’t quite work like that. At least it hasn’t for me. I haven’t suddenly started painting again, but I did enjoy sketching. It was nice to feel it come naturally again, even just for a little while.’
‘So what do we do to get you painting properly again? Is it like, repeat what we did today but times a million? Really ramp it up?’
‘Rosie,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You can’t fix everything straight away. I think I just need to keep doing this sort of thing and I’m sure it’ll help.’ He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but he was right that she couldn’t solve it immediately.
If she’d learned anything from her years of working jobs she didn’t care about and then suddenly seeing the video of the Bloemenmarkt , it was that everything happened when it was supposed to.
‘Have you thought more about going back to teaching? Maybe it’ll help spark your creativity again?’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I have got an appointment to show some pieces to a new gallery. The work isn’t new– they’re older pieces that’ve been in storage, but it might work out. Anyway, enough about that. Let’s talk about something else.’
‘Okay,’ she agreed cheerfully. She didn’t want to ruin the evening by pushing. ‘What shall we talk about?’
They started with the places she still wanted to visit, and she said that her dad and sister might come and stay, and Max shared information about his family.
By the time they’d finished eating, she knew he had a sister who lived in a small town outside of Amsterdam and that he’d studied art at university.
‘I haven’t really travelled, but that doesn’t bother me.
I love it here. Amsterdam has everything I need. ’
The first course was served and Rosie felt like she was in an exclusive Michelin-starred restaurant.
She’d ordered super savoury black-truffle-flavoured potato rosti in a truffle cappuccino– a frothy sauce that was utterly delicious.
Her taste buds reacted to the first excellent bite and she ate the small starter quicker than she should have, finishing before Max had barely touched his caviar.
Unlike some dates she’d been on– even though this wasn’t a date– the conversation flowed easily.
Max’s dry, ironic humour made her laugh out loud several times and she even made him chuckle.
A warmth shone from him this evening, one Rosie had known was there– that she’d seen glimmers of, but never this freely.
There was way more to Max than met the eye and she felt as if a layer had been stripped from him, revealing the real man underneath.
As the main courses were delivered, she made a mental note to eat slower.
She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t be taken out in public.
Her cod in a Pernod-infused hollandaise sauce elicited several sounds from her that made him look up, her cheeks colouring as she dipped her eyes back to the meal.
When it came to dessert, it was her turn to look at him as he enjoyed his bergamot and limoncello coconut cream.
She stuck with the stroopwafel , which was like the ones she’d eaten already, but with the decadence turned up by a thousand.
There were fancy restaurants in London and even some on the banks of the Thames, but they were nothing like this.
After the meal, as the boat began to move away from the dock, they stepped out onto the deck.
The boat cruised through the canals. One side of the sky held the setting sun, a deep yellow glow, and from it grew shades of orange and apricot.
On the other, where the storm clouds were clearing, cobalt and navy were underlined by mauve and pink.
It was breathtakingly gorgeous. They passed the picturesque houses, the beautiful buildings reflected in the water.
‘It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?’ Max said.
Next to him, Rosie felt the heat of his body. ‘It is.’
‘Not everyone thinks so. Some people who were born and raised here can’t wait to get away.’
Was this her chance to ask about Johanna?
She longed to know more about what had happened, still sure that she had something to do with Max’s inability to paint.
A part of her knew it could ruin the lovely evening they’d had and was warning her she should shy away, but another was desperate to see him back to himself– the man she knew was in there under the doom and gloom, the man she was seeing more and more of– and she couldn’t help herself.
‘Max,’ she began tentatively. ‘When we had dinner on your boat the other night, you said being a painter doesn’t pay very well, and that some people find that hard to deal with. Who were you talking about?’
‘You are very nosy,’ he replied, and though his brow had pulled together, the tone of his voice was light.
He turned to look at the sky once more, watching the distinctive canal houses pass by.
Where it was getting darker, some of the lights were on and a warm glow shone from the windows.
He glanced at Rosie. ‘My girlfriend– well, ex-girlfriend now– she...’ She held her breath as he paused, considering his words.
‘I think she wanted more from me than I could give on an artist’s salary.
She had enough of being penniless and saving for everything we wanted, so she left.
’ His matter-of-fact tone didn’t hide the hurt written across his features.
‘I’m so sorry. How long ago was that?’
‘A year– maybe a year and a half now. But we all have someone who’s broken our hearts, don’t we?’
‘I’m not sure I do actually. The only person who’s broken my heart is my mum and she didn’t do that on purpose. She died.’ She gave a small, sardonic chuckle. ‘I’ve never had my heart broken because of romantic love before.’
‘Never?’ As he twisted his body to look at her, he drew closer. Her eyes followed the line of his jaw beneath his trimmed beard, ending on his mouth.
She’d never had her heart broken by a man because she’d always kept a piece of herself back.
A piece shrouded in grief, a piece where the pain and loss over her mum acted like a shield against the possibility of love.
Her parents had loved each other so deeply, and though her dad tried to get on with his life, she knew he still mourned her mum.
In the months after her mum’s death, she’d thought that the loss was even greater for him.
They’d had so many years together– had lived a life together– and would have had so many more if given the chance.
Because of that, she’d been too scared to open her heart fully to love.
She’d always thought herself quite an open person and that a lasting relationship hadn’t come her way because she’d never found the right man.
But now she realised, as she stared at Max, and felt a depth of emotion she’d never had before, it was c lear that she’d never really allowed anyone into her whole heart, and that maybe she’d been doing herself a disservice.
‘You’ve gone every quiet,’ Max said gently.
‘Sorry, I—’ She plastered on her normal smile. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
‘Yes, you do,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to lie. What were you thinking?’
Under his kind, understanding gaze, with all traces of his grumpiness lost, she found herself telling him the truth, repeating the thoughts that had circled in her mind moments before.
‘Perhaps you have kept a piece of yourself back. It’s understandable.
Though I don’t know where that piece is, given you always say what’s on your mind.
’ She smiled at his joke, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood.
His face grew grave as he looked at her, his eyes meeting hers and refusing to look away.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who knows themselves as well as you do,’ Max said.
‘It’s... reassuring. There are no games with you. ’
Rosie was aware of his arm pressing against her own. She could feel the tension in his muscles through the fabric of his blazer. As the boat swayed on the water, her body leaned against his and she had no desire to move.
The sun had set, and the sky was lit with glistening stars. The moon, bold and bright– a silver disc in the sky– shone down on them and on the water, bringing strands of platinum light to its surface.
When Max spoke again, his voice was husky and taut with control. ‘You’ve made me think about things differently with your incessant cheerfulness and fix-everything attitude.’
‘I have?’
He turned to her, and she copied him, their bodies now facing each other.
They were barely inches apart. He studied the shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips.
His fingertips rose to her cheek, gentle and soft as they brushed her cheekbone, just as she had imagined them.
Her body came alive at his touch, flaming from his proximity.
He leaned in, his mouth finding hers, kissing her gently.
The warmth of his lips exploded her nerve endings.
His tongue swiped at hers gently, and she opened her mouth to encourage him further.
Soon he was kissing her passionately and she had never known a longing like it.
Men had tried to kiss her like that before, but it was nothing compared to this. She edged her body against his, and her fingers stroked the back of his neck. His hand shot into her hair, holding her close.
As they melted into each other, the world around them disintegrating to nothing, her heart opened and the shell of grief that had kept it protected– isolated– fell away.
She was almost certain that if she looked down, she’d see it on the floor at her feet.
Freedom lightened her body and, for the first time, she knew. She was in love.