Chapter 29
29
GRETA
‘Are we going on the London Eye?’ I exclaim. We’re walking hand in hand along Belvedere Road and, just as Ewan said earlier, it comes into view almost immediately.
He laughs. ‘I told you would be obvious – and yes.’
‘That’s lovely.’
‘Have you been on it before? I don’t want to assume – a lot of Londoners haven’t.’
‘Only once – not long after Ru was born. I would have been about twelve or thirteen. I loved it – I felt like I could see forever. What about you?’
‘My second time too – but I was in my twenties last time. A uni mate came down from Edinburgh and he wanted to ride it – I wouldn’t have bothered otherwise.’
‘But that’s the way, isn’t it? It’s so easy to get caught up in the day-to-day that you never take the time to explore your own city.’
‘Exactly. You know what we should do? Have a day out, the two of us, and explore London as if we’ve only just arrived.’
‘I’d love that,’ I say. Then he lifts my hand – the one he’s holding – and presses his lips to it, his gaze holding mine.
It is the single sexiest thing a man has ever done to me. Okay, that might not be entirely true, but nothing else comes to mind and heat is flooding my body. I’m guessing Ewan’s already booked tickets for the London Eye – otherwise, I’d be ordering an Uber and inviting him back to mine.
We’re quiet as we walk the rest of the way and when we arrive, Ewan shows the attendant the booking on his phone, and we’re whisked away to priority boarding.
Has he booked us a private pod? That’s so… romantic .
We’re next in the short queue and a young woman in uniform introduces herself as Catriona, our host. We step into the pod and on the seat in the centre are a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolates – this just keeps getting better – but, surprisingly, Catriona boards the pod with us.
As the doors close behind us, she makes short work of opening the champagne and while she pours two glasses, I turn to Ewan.
‘This is gorgeous,’ I whisper. ‘You’re spoiling me – thank you so much.’
‘You’re welcome. It seemed like you’ve had a hard time over the past few days and?—’
‘But you didn’t even know what had happened. I just said that there was a sticky situation at work…’
‘I made an educated guess that you were playing it down, making it seem less difficult than it was.’
‘That was a good guess.’
He shrugs. ‘Besides,’ he says, tucking my hair behind my left ear and trailing the back of his fingers down my cheek, ‘I wanted this night to be special.’
My breath hitches. ‘Well, you’ve definitely succeeded,’ I manage to say.
‘Madam, sir,’ says Catriona. We turn towards her, and she hands us brimming champagne flutes then steps back, giving us as much privacy as is possible in the confined space.
Ewan ushers me to the other side of the pod and we face the window. The sun has nearly set, the sky above us an inky blue, and a smattering of low clouds hang above the horizon, alight in an array of pinks and purples. Along the Thames, lights from landmarks dance on the surface of the water. Parliament House is particularly beautiful, spilling its golden light onto the Thames, with Big Ben standing proudly, a striking beacon.
I wander over to the other side of the pod, Ewan trailing close behind, and this view is just as beautiful as the southern-facing view. Be still, my heart, I love this city.
‘What should we toast to?’ asks Ewan.
I look up at him, my eyes roving the features of his handsome face. ‘To London – a beautiful city that I too often take for granted,’ I say.
‘I like that,’ he replies, gently touching his flute to mine. We sip and it is delicious .
As we climb higher and the view changes, we chat – nothing too serious or too flirty, as I’m hyper aware that there’s another person with us. Catriona tops us up when our glasses are nearing empty, but as discreet as she is, I can’t shake the uncomfortable thought of her watching us together.
When she tops us up a second time – I am going to be drunk by the time we leave the pod – she offers to take our photo.
‘Oh,’ I say, amazed I hadn’t thought of it myself. ‘That would be lovely.’
Ewan and I both give her our phones and we pose for several photos, his arm around me, his hand resting on my waist and pulling me towards him. When the mini photoshoot is over and he steps away to retrieve our phones, I want to haul him back to me and kiss him – hard .
I don’t, though. I’m not sure I want our first kiss to be in front of Catriona.
The thirty-minute ride comes to an end and, as predicted, I’m giddy from the champagne. Leaving the unopened box of chocolates, we step onto the platform and Ewan takes my hand. Oh, bollocks, we’re still moving.
Yes, Greta, the London Eye doesn’t stop to let off tipsy women.
Of course, I instantly lose my footing and stumble, but Ewan’s got me. He clasps my hand tighter and steadies me.
‘Are you all right?’ he says once we’ve cleared the platform.
‘I’m all right – a little embarrassed.’
‘No need to be – it’s just me,’ he says softly.
It’s just me.
And there it is – another seemingly simple statement that’s loaded with so much more.
Because Ewan has gone from the bloke at the coffee shop who I made small talk with to a friend and dinner companion to this man – this lovely, sexy man – I’m on a date with. And yes, it’s early days – this is just the beginning of us – or at least I hope it is – but I still feel foolish for not having seen it until recently.
At least I see it now.
And – to my utter joy – he seems to feel the same way.
These thoughts fly through my mind in seconds. He’s watching me intently – like I’m watching him – and I couldn’t say who moves first, but suddenly his hands are resting on the small of my back and mine have snaked around his neck, my clutch dangling from one hand.
Our faces mere inches from each other’s, we pause, me looking up at him, him down at me, our breath mingling and our lips parted.
‘You are so gorgeous,’ he whispers.
And I can’t wait a moment longer. I stand on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his.
He embraces me tightly, his fingers digging into the fabric of my trousers, and I tighten my arms around his neck. The kiss is firm, both of us wanting it, wanting each other, and his mouth moves against mine with a sureness I find so incredibly sexy, my whole body is alight. His tongue slips into my mouth, the tip touching mine. When it withdraws, I bite down gently on his lower lip, feeling his mouth stretch into a smile.
Then the kiss deepens and I am lost in the sensations of him – the taste, the smell, the feel of his body against mine, his hands on my back just above my bum, his fingers now splayed.
This is the best kiss of my life.
Eventually, the kiss ends – I was vaguely aware of a passer-by telling us to get a room – and we pull apart, both breathless and grinning.
‘You know, that may just be the best kiss I’ve ever had,’ he says, and I swat him in the chest. ‘Ow, what was that for?’ he asks with a laugh.
‘I was thinking the exact same thing.’
He side-eyes me. ‘You’re not going to get violent every time I say what you’re thinking, are you?’
‘Not every time.’
He places a dainty kiss on the end of my nose, which is sweet, but I prefer the other kind of kiss. Then he lifts one hand to rub the back of his neck the way blokes do sometimes when they’re mulling something over or are worried.
‘What’s on your mind?’ I ask, hoping he’ll say something like, ‘Shagging you senseless.’
‘You know how Remy wants to meet you?’ he asks, suddenly shy.
‘I do, yes.’
‘What if that was tonight?’
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!
Inside, I’m doing a happy dance – and never have I appreciated my foresight more.
‘I would love to meet Remy tonight,’ I reply, maintaining the pretence.
He grins again.
‘I can’t stop grinning,’ he says, shaking his head.
‘I don’t mind.’
‘I’ll get us an Uber.’ He takes out his phone and taps away and I watch him closely.
I am going home with Ewan! I AM GOING HOME WITH EWAN AND HE MAKES ME FEEL ALL WARM AND GLOWING INSI?—
‘Excuse me, sorry to bother you,’ a woman says to Ewan. I hadn’t even noticed her approaching, being in my own little bubble of Ewan-ness.
He lifts his brows inquisitively.
‘Would you mind signing this, please? I just loved you in Atonement .’ She shoves a Tesco receipt and a pen at him and – to his credit (another thing to add to the Ewan-is-wonderful list) – he takes it from her. ‘To Meryl, please – that’s me,’ she says with a slightly embarrassed smile.
A few feet away, a man, who I presume is her husband, rolls his eyes. ‘Sorry to bother you, mate,’ he says.
‘It’s no bother at all,’ he replies. He leans down to rest the receipt on his thigh and writes:
To Meryl,
Very nice to meet you.
James McAvoy
xxxx
He hands it back to her and she’s beaming. ‘Thank you. You have a lovely night now.’
They leave, the woman glancing back over her shoulder at Ewan – twice – and he turns to me, his mouth open and his hands held out. ‘What? Just? Happened?’
‘You were lovely – you gave her a story to dine out on for the rest of her life.’
‘Can you imagine if she’d asked for a photo? Someone would have burst her bubble as soon as they clapped eyes on me.’
‘Hardly. I told you, it’s remarkable how alike you are.’
He barks out a laugh. ‘Anyway, we should go. Uber will be arriving soon,’ he says, pointing to where he’s dropped the pin.
As we walk towards it, I say, ‘She was adorable. She even told us to have a nice night.’
‘I think you’ll find she said, “ lovely night,” and I have every intention of making it that and more.’
I make a show of fanning my face. ‘Phoof. That Uber driver better not be worried about getting a ticket,’ I quip.
‘If they do, I’ll pay for it.’