Page 25 of The Blind Date

“That’s good because I feel comfortable.”

“I know one thing that’ll make you look a little better.”

“What’s that?” I asked, though quickly regretted it. You’d think that after twenty-eight years, I’d know better than to ask Mum such questions.

“This,” she announced, coming to a stop in the doorway of the restaurant. Before I could protest or move away, Mum pinched my cheeks. Hard.

“Ow!” I complained and took a step back, cupping my face before she could attack me again. "What was that for?"

“I was just putting some colour in your cheeks,” she told me with a smug smirk on her face. "Now come on, we don't want to leave our new friends waiting."

My lips parted in shock as I watched her walk past Dad and me to let herself into the restaurant.

“Did you see that?” I asked, still somewhat in shock as I turned to face Dad, but he was still laughing.

“That’s your mum for you.” He laughed and threw an arm over my shoulder, guiding me into the restaurant. "I hope it didn't hurt too much, Saff, but your mum's right. Pinching your cheeks has brought out some colour on your face. You look a lot better already.”

Dad was still laughing when we spotted Mum sitting at a table with two others, a man and woman around my parents' age, perhaps slightly older. Mum had already started handing out the hugs, and when Dad moved to do the same, I stood off to the side slightly with a polite smile.

When the round of hugs finished and the attention turned to me, I smiled politely and stepped forward, holding out my hand in greeting.

"You must be Saffron!" The woman beamed at me, and when she glanced down at my outstretched hand, she scoffed and accepted it, though not for a handshake. A small squeak escaped me when she tugged on my hand and pulled me in for a hug. "It's nice to finally meet you, Saffron. Your parents have told us so much about you that I feel like I know you already," she told me, finally letting go of the hug only to pass me onto her husband who thankfully, didn’t turn the handshake into a hug. "Though, you're much prettier than they made you out to be."

I smiled. “That’s so kind. Thank you.”

The woman was petite. Her skin was coloured a light, natural-looking tan, her eyes a tad bit darker, and with her long, wavy black hair that fell to her waist, she looked like an exotic Barbie doll. Her husband, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He towered over his wife by several inches–she barely reached halfway up his chest. He was a big, burly man with brown hair he kept short. His eyes were a piercing green which looked oddly familiar, and the brown beard with a few streaks of grey in it hid what I could only assume was a strong jaw. Even at his age, I could tell he was the kind of person to get better looking with age, just like his wife. My parents, too, so I at least had that to look forward to when I was old and grey.

I wondered if I would still be single then. Probably. Especially if my parents kept setting me up with the worst men in London.

"Oh, sweetie, we're forgetting our manners again." The big, burly man chuckled. "I'm Alfie, and this is my wife, Yasmin.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” I returned their infectious smiles.

"I hope you don't mind, but our eldest son will be joining us today. He’s running a little late but should be here shortly,” Alfie told us as we took our seats.

It was a circular table with six seats. Dad sat between Mum and Alfie who had Yasmin on his other side. I sat next to Mum and the chair between Yasmin and I was empty, presumably for their late son. Great. It appeared that I would be sitting next to him.

Notice the sarcasm?

“No, of course, not.” Dad shook his head.

“He went through a messy divorce a couple of years ago and only recently has started opening up to us about it, so we're trying to get him out more. Sue us for worrying, but we're his parents.” Alfie shrugged, reaching out to place a reassuring hand over Yasmin's.

Alfie’s words caught me off guard, and my head snapped toward Mum.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mum asked innocently, taking a leisurely sip from her wine, far classier than my choice of a cold light root beer.

“I thought you we agreed on ten blind dates a month. No more,” I whispered harshly.

“Yes, we did agree on that.”

“Don’t give me that look. This is clearly a ruse to set me up with their son.”

“I know you’re my only child, but not everything's about you, honey." She tutted, but I saw right through the act.

“Oh, so you’re not trying to turn this into a triple date?”

“No, of course not.” Mum waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I didn’t even know Alfie and Yasmin were going to invite one of their sons to join us, but the more, the merrier, right?”

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