Chapter 17
‘Everything OK?’ Hugh said as Tad swept past, collecting up the last few starter plates.
‘More than OK, Hugh, thank you very much,’ Tad said as he headed for the kitchen.
‘Good lad. Don’t mess it up again,’ Hugh said as he lifted a glass and took a mouthful of wine.
Tad wanted to ask Hugh what he meant, but he had a fair idea. The old man seemed to know what he wanted even before he knew it himself.
The mystery remained as to why Billie would tell him one thing, when the opposite was true. It wasn’t as though Billie had done anything more than make a few flirty comments to him. It wasn’t about him, he felt sure – it was about Billie’s relationship with Amy.
‘You want me to plate up the mushrooms?’ Matteo said, spatula in one hand as he pulled open the oven door.
‘Yes. Please do that. I’ll take the salad through.
’ Tad was on autopilot, at least as far as the food was concerned.
His mind was full of other thoughts, of standing at the summit of Monte Baldo and the way he’d felt when Amy was hit by the mountain bike.
Of what happened in the base of his stomach when she suggested he might like to inspect the site of the impact.
Her comments earlier about the bruising. His intense desire to kiss it better.
He closed his eyes, seeking clarification. She was there, the image of Honor he’d grown used to seeing lately, her smile as bright and warm as the rays of the early-morning sun. Was she willing him on? Was he waiting for permission from his long-gone former partner?
Lifting the bowls of salad, he threaded his way back to the dining room, settling them on the table before he shot back for the crusty bread and salad dressing.
A lighter main course than others through the week, but he’d discovered that most clients struggled with seven days of heavy eating, and that a lighter dinner part-way through worked well.
With everything on the table, and the stuffed mushrooms served, he took his seat beside Amy again.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You’re back.’
‘I’m back.’
This time it seemed to Tad that Amy was focusing her attention on him as much as the other way around.
‘Can I ask you something?’ he said. When she nodded, he took a breath, deciding there was only one way to find out. ‘Why did you say it didn’t matter that you’re single?’
She frowned. ‘Maybe it came out wrong. I meant it’s probably better that way, what with my lifestyle.
’ There was another pause. ‘I think it all went sideways with Shaun because he struggled with the long-distance thing.’ She shrugged.
‘So did I, to be honest. I’m not sure I would try to do it again. ’
‘Oh. Right. Are you still talking about a long-distance thing – or any kind of relationship?’
‘Would you try a long-distance relationship, then?’
He scratched at the side of his cheek. ‘For the right person, I suppose I’d give it my best shot.
’ He almost added that for the right person he’d do almost anything, finding out about Amy’s single status had ignited something inside Tad, like a genii released from its bottle, and as difficult to stuff back in.
She smiled. A whisper of sadness inhabited the smile, then it was gone as she said, ‘Well, that person will be the lucky one. Not everyone is willing to try that hard.’
Amy’s grin broadened, and Tad had the feeling the brightness of her smile might work as a defence mechanism. The sunnier she looked, the more she was trying to magic the emotion into being. He should know: he’d produced enough fake smiles over the years.
‘That’s life, I guess.’ Amy sighed, then frowned as she laid a hand against her ribs. They were clearly more painful than she was letting on.
Tad paused, deciding to ignore his earlier self’s sense of propriety as he leant into her and lowered his voice. ‘Can I just let you know – in case it’s of interest, for your ribs you understand – I hold a first-aid certificate. And I’m as good at rubbing in liniment as the next man. Maybe better.’
Amy’s mouth dropped open, but her eyes danced with amusement. ‘Did you really say that?’
Tad lowered his voice further. ‘Aye. Rubbing is one of my specialities.’
‘Oh my God, that’s outrageous,’ she added, starting to laugh.
‘I do my best,’ he added.
‘Taddeo, you’re very naughty.’ Her focus on him was absolute, and Tad let the warmth from her gaze flow over him like the early-morning sunrise.
‘Say that again. Slowly.’
‘Taddeo,’ she said, her voice dropping to no more than a whisper. ‘You are very naughty.’
‘Do you want any salad?’
Malcolm passed the bowl of salad leaves to Amy. Distracted, she took a few, then passed the bowl on to Tad. Once he’d got rid of it, he turned to her again, but the spell had been broken.
* * *
Amy’s heart was pounding loud enough to relegate the clinks and clatter of cutlery on plates, and the chatter of the other guests so far into the background as to be non-existent.
The pounding from her heart was so loud in her own ears she felt sure Tad would be able to hear it, too.
But he didn’t seem to have noticed. Instead, with the electric moment created by Tad’s outrageous comment about liniment broken by Malcolm and the salad bowl, Tad cut into his baked mushroom and wrapped the stringy bits of melted blue cheese around the breadcrumbs on the top of the segment before he popped it into his mouth and began to chew.
When he turned back to her, a single breadcrumb had taken up residence at the corner of his mouth and Amy didn’t know which action was higher up in her conscious thoughts – to laugh at his inability to eat properly, or to offer to lick it off.
‘You’ve got some of it…’ She pointed to his lips. ‘Breadcrumbs.’
He licked at the corner of his mouth, and Amy was grateful her cheeks had already reached peak colour as she concentrated on her breathing.
‘My mother always told me I was the messiest eater she’d ever known. Thanks.’
‘Welcome,’ she said, her throat tight with the effort of sounding normal.
‘Are you trying not to laugh at me, Amy?’ he said.
I’m trying not to tell you how much I wish I was that breadcrumb, she thought, squashing the words between tight lips as she shook her head.
‘Listen, do you fancy going for a drink later? I know a lovely little—’
‘Yes. Yes Tad, I would like that very much.’
* * *
Hugh was faffing around making coffee when Amy shot past him.
She’d whizzed upstairs after the meal, cleaning her teeth and generally staring at herself in the full-length mirror as she gave Tad the time he needed to clear the dishes and be ready to leave.
She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone else, hadn’t wanted to feel compelled to explain to Billie where she was going.
She’d fidgeted, told herself to get a grip, then had skipped back downstairs, eager to get out of the cookery school and head to whatever was going to happen next.
She didn’t give Hugh time to say anything, threw him a smile as she crossed into the kitchen and peered through the doorway.
Tad had swapped his chef’s coat for a lightweight jacket on top of a fresh, clean white tee. As she leant against the doorframe, pretending her heart wasn’t still banging like a drummer on speed, she aimed for a nonchalant expression.
‘You OK?’ Tad said as he rounded the counter and headed in her direction. ‘You still good to go?’
Amy gave up on nonchalance and smiled. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Do you mind me dressed like this?’ He pointed at his trousers. ‘I keep a fresh T-shirt or two down here in case I throw food over myself, but I can’t match up to you and that sensational dress.’
‘You like it?’ she said.
Tad paused, his gaze unwavering. ‘It’s a lovely dress, but I particularly like it because you’re wearing it, Amy.’
He slipped his hand around hers and they made the short walk to the bar, right on the lakefront and strung all around with fairy lights, variegated ivy and flowering plants all but hiding the trellis used to separate this bar from passers-by.
Still busy with diners, and too early for revellers, the streets were buzzing but calm, the air warm but with the sun now mercifully low in the sky. Amy chose to sit with her back to its dying rays. Live and learn, she thought as Tad took a seat across from her and they ordered drinks.
‘This is nice,’ she said, moistening her lips as she struggled with what to say next. ‘Very quiet.’
‘Too quiet for you?’ he asked, a frown burrowing into his forehead. ‘There are other bars, livelier ones, but this one has got a great view over the water.’
‘Not at all. This is lovely. And you’re right. The view is great.’
‘It certainly is.’ Tad stared at her, then looked away shaking his head as he stifled a laugh. ‘God, I’m no good at this.’
‘No good at what?’ Amy hadn’t taken her gaze away from him, wondered how long it might take him to notice she hadn’t taken in much of the lakeside view, either.
‘It’s been such a long time since it meant anything, you know? And now, I feel as if my tongue is twice the size it should be and everything I want to say will come out all wrong.’
‘You’re having a seizure, you mean?’ Amy said, but she wasn’t being serious.
She understood exactly what he was saying, because she was feeling the same.
Alongside the pounding of her heart, flocks of birds had set up camp in her stomach, taking flight and battering at her from the inside as she stared at him.
It had been like this with Shaun, early on.
Losing control with him had been so easy.
Would be the same with Tad if the birds in her belly didn’t let up. ‘You were doing all right at dinner.’
‘Yeah, but that was banter. That’s easy,’ Tad said as he leant forward and placed his elbows on the table. ‘No, what I’m saying – or trying to say – is that you’re doing something to me. Something I wasn’t sure I’d ever—’
Tad didn’t finish his sentence, the waiter making a silent and yet obvious approach to the table, forcing Amy to drag her attention away from Tad as she took hold of her glass of Dutch courage – otherwise known as vodka and Coke – and he took a sip from his lemony soda thing.
Home-made by the bar, apparently, and worthy of special fuss by the waiter before he withdrew.
Amy hid behind her drink, sipping the familiar contents through a straw as she waited for him to pick up the conversation from where he’d broken off. Instead, he looked out across the glistening lake, glass in hand.
‘I think I might want to stay here forever,’ he said, the segue – and the gravity of his tone – throwing Amy.
‘At this bar?’ Shoving her own elbows onto the polished marble of the narrow tabletop, she leant forward, closing the gap between them. Physically narrowing the gap even as she used humour to divert the conversation from the serious.
He huffed a laugh, turning back to face her, elbows matching hers, two drinks between them, fingers restless against the glass. ‘No.’
‘Where then?’ she said, all humour gone as he brushed at the back of her hand with his.
‘Here,’ he said, allowing his fingers to rest against hers.
There was no mistaking the intent behind his expression, or behind the way his fingers threaded their way around hers, both hands cold from the condensation of their glasses.
‘How about here?’ she said, stretching out her free hand, looping her index finger into the collar line of his T-shirt, pulling him towards her.
As she leant forwards, a final flutter of nervous fear quieted and they paused, a delicious few seconds close enough to feel the electricity from one another before their forward momentum brought his lips to hers and he kissed her.