Page 71 of One Night in Edinburgh

‘A bottle of bubbly?’

‘Correct. Pity I’m driving or we could have had one.’

We load our plastic plates with cheese and pickle and tuna mayonnaise sandwich triangles, mini sausage rolls, carrot sticks with hummus and the crisps Jamie brought. Then we happily munch our way through a decent amount of the food – while chatting about our favourite beaches and holiday destinations. It’s far from a tropical experience: the chill breeze from the water making it feel cooler than when we set out, but it’s perfect because we’re together.

‘Speaking of holidays…’ I venture, feeling uncharacteristically brave. ‘How do you fancy a weekend away together? We could visit another coastal area – and claim it asourspot.’

‘Eh… yeah… sounds great.’ Jamie tops up our plastic cups with sparkling spring water and loads his plate again.

‘We could go after the schools are back from the Easter break so it’s not so busy – or too expensive. Is there anywhere specific you’d like to go? I could start looking at hotels.’

‘Um… nope. Nowhere I’m particularly itching to visit. Maybe we could leave it till the summer – like the second half of August? That would give us more time to plan and the weather will be warmer, too.’

‘Oh, OK then.’ My spirits are dampened by Jamie pushing the date out so far. I had hoped that a weekend away would be a stepping-stone towards a proper holiday together in the summer – maybe somewhere abroad.

‘But it doesn’t mean you can’t start thinking about it now.’ He seems to sense my disappointment. ‘Maybe shortlist some options, then we can do a last-minute booking – make it kind of spontaneous and exciting, you know?’

‘Sure. Yeah, I can do that.’

I dunk a crisp in the cheese-and-chive dip and pop it in my mouth as my brain kicks into gear. Am I being oversensitive or is Jamie trying to subtly kibosh our weekend away? He’s indicated he’s up for it, but if he is, why do we have to wait so long to go? It’s like he’s intentionally kicked it down the road so far that there’s no point in thinking or talking about it for the foreseeable future. We don’t need four and a half months to plan a mini-break.

I try to push this thought out of my mind, but the harder I try, the more it weighs on me: to the point that my niggle over only seeing Jamie on weekends decides to join the party. Before I know it, I’m battling a raft of insecurities about his behaviour, which, quite frankly, is bordering on elusiveness. Why do I only see Jamie onhisterms? Why do I not even know his surname? And why have I never seen where he lives? I had convinced myself that these were insignificant details: for no reason other than I’m desperate to cling onto him. Anna’s suspicions suddenly mushroom in my mind, and I feel like I’m mentally suffocating.

‘Are you OK, Steph?’ Jamie obviously tunes into this change of mood and places a concerned hand on my leg.

‘I’m… yeah… I think I’ve eaten too much.’

I instinctively get to my feet, but then don’t know what to do with myself, and hang there awkwardly with my arms folded. I desperately want to ask him all the questions that are crowding my mind, but I can’t bring myself to articulate my concerns.

‘You’re not feeling sick, are you?’ Jamie stands and joins me.

He strokes the pressure points on my wrists in bid to alleviate any nausea I’m experiencing, his face etched with concern, and I can’t bear it any longer. He may have stuff to hide, but I’m straight up. I can’t pretend to be anything else.

‘No, I don’t feel sick, Jamie. It’s not actually the food.’

‘What do you mean?’ He stops delivering his ‘first aid’ and threads his fingers through mine.

Feeling the warmth and security – and at this moment, unwelcome desire – that his touch brings to me, the instinct to push my worries aside and melt into him is almost overwhelming. But I know I have to deal with this once and for all. No more holding back out of fear of losing him. If we can’t have an honest and mutually respectful relationship – which Mrs Carmichael rightly highlighted being as being essential for a future together – then we don’t have a relationship at all.

But do I have to do it in such a direct way?my brain pipes up. Maybe I can try another approach. He’s put me off the weekend away, but what about the fundraiser? That’s a minor commitment in comparison, and it’s on a weekday. Bringing it up will tell me if there’s any sign of real progress between us.

‘What’s on your mind, Steph?’ Jamie prompts me, pulling me back from my torturous deliberations.

‘Eh… sorry…’ I clench my teeth, feeling stressed by the weight of this situation. ‘Was just thinking about something. I have a work-do coming up: a fundraiser that Anna, my boss and I have been preparing for over the last few months. It’s a black-tie event at a plush hotel and we have loads of potential donors coming.’

‘Right… and are you concerned about it? Is there an issue at work? Because no problem is ever as big as it seems. You can tell me anything, you know that.’

Do I? From where I’m standing, it seems I can’t bring up what’s really on my mind.

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘It’s nothing like that. We’ve been told we can bring a plus one, and, well… I was wondering if you’d like to come with me? It’s this Thursday.’

Jamie’s face immediately falls. ‘Steph, I’m sorry, I’d love to be your plus one, but I’m afraid I can’t. I have an appointment that evening that I have to keep.’

‘I see.’ Disappointment slices through me like a knife. ‘Oh, well. I thought I’d ask.’

‘And I love that you did. You have no idea how much I wish I could come.’

‘It’s fine, never mind. Maybe we can meet up on Tuesday or Wednesday instead then?’ I ask automatically. ‘Go out for a bite to eat together?’

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