Page 169 of Off the Pitch

“That’s amazing!” I scooted around the table and squished David in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks.” He squeezed me tightly. “I can’t quite believe it to be honest. I mean, I haven’t been there that long.”

“Well, you are excellent at your job,” I said, stepping back and brushing loose strands of hair out of my face. “And they obviously knew you’d be the perfect fit.”

“Thanks.” He gave me a tired smile and rubbed his eyes, momentarily dislodging his glasses. “How’s your day going?”

“Oh, you know, same old really.” I shrugged. “I have a little digital work to do, but I’ve been trying to organise my stuff because otherwise I won’t be able to find anything. I’m going to drown in canvases and paint, and then you’ll just have to put a little sign on the stairs that says, ‘Here lies Kit, murdered by art supplies’.”

David laughed. “I’m sure Hugo would rescue you.”

“Probably, although I do wonder if he’d be brave enough to wade through everything.” I looked around at my home studio. When Hugo and I had viewed the house last autumn, the space had looked huge. Now that it was full of my stuff, it looked considerably smaller, and I was starting to wonder if I’d gone a tiny bit overboard when outfitting it. “He is much taller than me though, so it might not be as bad for him.”

“He can rescue you from your tower like the handsome prince he is,” David said with a wry grin. “Speaking of your beloved, do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Tonight?” I repeated as if that would suddenly make everything clear. David raised an eyebrow.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“And? Am I supposed to do something special?” I asked, trying to hide my smile. I did, in fact, already have plans, but I wasn’t going to tell David that. It was always fun to wind him up and see how much I could get away with before he realised.

“You don’t have to,” David said, “but it’s nice. I’m making Christian dinner.”

“So that’s why you wanted my carbonara recipe!”

“Well, since you refuse to make it for me, I’ve had to resort to learning how to cook it myself.” David shook his head and smiled. “I bought dessert though. It was easier than trying to make something.”

“Oh? What did you get?”

“Profiteroles and cream.”

“And you didn’t bring me any?”

“They’re not for you. You can buy your own cream.”

I snorted. “I don’t think you quite thought that sentence through.”

“It’s too much time spent around you,” David said with a chuckle. “It’s melted my brain.”

“How rude! And after I gave you my prized carbonara recipe so you could spoil your love.” David opened his mouth to respond, but I breezed past him and headed for the stairs, cutting him off before he could start arguing. “Come on, I have things to do. If you want to stay here, you can make yourself useful.”

“Oh? Now I’m intrigued.”

He followed me down two flights of stairs and into the kitchen, leaning against the island as I pulled a large box out of the fridge. Gael, the owner of Hugo’s favourite cheese shop, had delivered it earlier.

Hugo was a cheese fanatic, and I’d been subjected to many long conversations, which were frankly more like lectures, on the matter. At one point, there had even been a PowerPoint presentation. It was probably payback for all the times I’d deliberately wound him up by asking if cheese strings and burger cheese slices counted as proper cheese. The answer by the way, was apparently no.

I’d sneakily paid Gael a visit last week and asked him to put together a hamper of all Hugo’s favourites. We’d also had a long discussion about accompaniments. If I was going to go to the effort of celebrating Valentine’s Day with Hugo, I was going to do it properly.

I put the box on the side and tried not to laugh at David as he attempted to peer inside like a curious child as I began removing the carefully packed cheeses and laid them out on the marble counter. I had a pretty, slate cheese plate I was going to use to serve everything, but I wanted to see everything laid out first so I had an idea of what I was working with. As I pulled out the last of what I’d ordered, I heard something rolling around at the bottom of the box.

“That’s funny. I didn’t think I’d ordered anything else.” I stuck my hand in, rummaging around in the packing material until my fingers closed on the offending item. It was a heart-shaped cheese encased in dark red wax. There was little Post-it note stuck to the label that simply saidHappy Valentine’s Day!in Gael’s neat cursive.

“Oh, that’s rather sweet of him,” I said, carefully peeling the note off to examine the label underneath, which said the heart was an organic vintage cheddar.

“That’s adorable,” David said, carefully examining everything. “So, cheese and wine night for you?”

“Well, it’ll be cheese sans wine,” I said, folding up the box to go into the recycling. “I’ve also got some lovely charcuterie and fruit too and some of those rosemary crackers Hugo adores. I thought we could do a little indoor picnic. I might even try to find some fairy lights.”

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