Page 98 of Quiet Longing

Rhys led me to a table where my aunt and uncle were sitting with Derek and Tristan, plus a third guy I almost didn’t recognise at first. “Oh my goodness, Theo,” I exclaimed as I stepped forward to give him a hug.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” he said with a soft chuckle as I released him.

“Of course, I remember you. I’ve been told you’re some bigshot superintendent now.”

“That’s right though I wouldn’t describe it as bigshot,” he said with a hint of self-deprecation.

“Well, it’s great to see you,” I said, still aware of Rhys at my back.

“You, too. You look well, Charli. The years have been kind.”

“Oh,” I breathed, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Thank you.”

“Let’s sit.” Rhys’ tone was gruff as he lightly pressed his hand to my lower back and guided me to a seat. The warmth of his palm left me when he pulled out my chair just as Aidan appeared. His gaze landed on me, and a wide, dashing smileclaimed his entire face. “Well, isn’t this a blast from the past. Hello, Miss Moretti.”

“Aidan, how are you? Thanks so much for letting me tag along tonight.”

“Of course. When I heard you were back, I insisted,” he replied smoothly as he leaned forward to clasp my shoulder before kissing my cheek. The faint scruff of his beard touched my chin. He was even better looking than he had been before, yet he still didn’t give me the same butterflies and awareness Rhys made me feel just by existing in my presence.

One of the servers hustled to Aidan’s side, needing his attention, and he shot us all an apologetic smile. “I’m needed in the kitchen, I’m afraid, but enjoy the food. I’ll be back to get your reviews later.” He winked, and then he was gone. I became aware of Rhys’ eyes on my profile and looked his way. He seemed to notice the tension around my lips because his expression was questioning. All this peopling was a lot for me, but I was strangely starting to enjoy myself.

“I’m okay,” I whispered as the others chatted around us.

“If you need a breather, just say the word, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, and a pretty redhead stepped forward to take our orders.

Once the food started arriving, I relaxed a little bit more, letting the jovial, high spirited atmosphere wash over me. I was on my second glass of Prosecco when the dessert came out, a simple but delicious crème brûlée.

“This is so good,” I practically moaned as my spoon cracked into the hardened caramelised top, and Rhys’ eyes flicked to me, lowering to my mouth for a second and holding. My face grew hot, and when he finally looked away, I had to resist the urge to fan myself. What was it about the way he looked at mesometimes? He made me feel exhilaratingly alive, but also like I was sinking into a familiar, comforting embrace.

“Nuala, you came!” Tristan said, and I turned to see my cousin walk into the restaurant holding hands with a cute thirty-something guy with brown hair and glasses.

“Yeah, the show we were seeing ended early, so I decided we could squeeze in dessert,” Nuala replied, glancing at my crème brûlée like she might try to steal a spoonful. I quickly covered the ramekin with my hand, scowling playfully. “Don’t even think about it.”

She laughed before proceeding to introduce Martin to everyone. He seemed like a super nice guy, which was a relief because Nuala deserved only the best. I did notice Theo was a little stiff and reserved when he shook Martin’s hand and remembered the crush he’d had on Nuala back in the day. I didn’t imagine he still had feelings for her, though. I mean, it had been years, so surely he would’ve made a move if he’d really liked her. And Nuala would’ve mentioned it to me if something had ever happened between them.

Derek went to grab some extra chairs for Nuala and Martin, and we all began shuffling around to make space for them at the table. It was as we were shifting our seats that Rhys knocked his drink over, and it spilled down the front of his shirt.

“Ah, shite,” he swore in annoyance at himself, and I instantly panicked. I couldn’t explain the reaction, but suddenly, I was jumping up out of my seat, apologising, and grabbing spare napkins from the table to dry his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, my hands shaking as I pressed the napkins into the spill. My lips quivered, and I had this feeling of impending doom I couldn’t explain before Rhys’ large, warm hand settled over mine.

“Charli, this isn’t your fault. I was the one who spilled the drink,” he said, his voice quiet and firm but also a little confused.

“Right, yes, I know, I just thought—”

My words fell off as my cheeks heated and flushed with embarrassment, my eyes downcast because I was too ashamed to look around and see if anyone else noticed my overreaction. What the hell was wrong with me? I was acting terrified, and the feeling was as familiar as an old pair of well-worn shoes.

So many times, Jesse had fucked up, and somehow,I’dbeen to blame. Like when he’d spilled coffee on the documents for a case he was working on, it had been my fault for being the one who was talking while it happened. Or when he’d turned a bunch of white shirts dull grey by letting a pair of black socks fall into the wash. That had been my fault, too, because I should’ve had the forethought to go through everything and separate the colours. No matter what had happened, it had always been my fault. This was clearly the reason for my response to Rhys spilling his drink, but it didn’t make it any less mortifying. Nor did it lessen the adrenaline that was coursing through me.

“Charli?” Rhys’ eyes were wide and full of concern as I backed away.

“I’m j-just going to see if they have anything better to clean up with in the back. Those napkins aren’t very absorbent.” My hands still shook as I left the table.

“Wait,” Rhys called, but I was already gone.

My pulse thrummed in my ears as I hurried to the back of the restaurant, finding a quiet corner near the bathrooms. Someone had left a window open, and a pleasantly cool breeze filtered in. It didn’t take away how pissed off I was with myself. Was this how I was always going to react to stressful situations that weren’t even my fault? I’d thought I’d been making progress, but it felt like no matter how much time passed or how far away I got from him, Jesse’s mark on me would always linger. I’d forever be a shaking, anxious mess whenever something happened to trigger a memory or a certain response.

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