Page 57 of Best Man
“Is that a euphemism?” I enquire, and Charlie winces.
“Fuck off. Don’t be disgusting.”
“The last librarian I saw was inThe Mummy,” Zeb says. “That sliding ladder always fascinated me.”
“Trust me, I’d rather tackle Imhotep than old Mrs Saunders who keeps Tipp-Exing the swear words out in the large-print books.”
Zeb laughs and Charlie looks at both of us, his eyes bright with curiosity and a hefty dose of amusement. “So, you’re going out, then?”
“We are,” I say grandly. “Iam planning our afternoon and evening entertainment.”
“Shit,” Charlie mutters. He smirks at Zeb. “It’s not too late to run. The last time he organised anything we ended up in Dover.”
“Was that bad?”
“It was, considering we were supposed to be in Edinburgh.”
Zeb laughs and smiles at me. It’s more, somehow. Still tinged with amusement but there’s something extra in that smile that makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll take the gamble,” he says softly.
Charlie grins. “Well, I’m off to remove the stunning fragrance of Moggy Number Five. Have a good time.”
He disappears, and Zeb looks at me steadily. “You ready?” he asks, and something in his eyes tells me that he half expects me to run away.
I nod and step closer to him. “For anything,” I say deliberately, and he swallows and nods.
“Let’s go, then. Show me this date, Casanova.”
An hour later he looks up at our destination and blinks. “So, our date is Stanfords, the bookshop?”
I nod happily. “Thetravelbookshop,” I emphasise. “Have you ever been in here?”
He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t travelled much.” He looks almost shamefaced. “I always wanted to, but there was never enough time. My dad was too busy to travel when I was a kid,” he finishes almost inaudibly, and my heart twists. His dad was probably too busy getting married. He seems to have been the Zsa Zsa Gabor of London.
“Well, can I just say that I’m profoundly grateful to have discovered somewhere that you haven’t been with Patrick yet,” I say tartly to cover up his embarrassment.
His face clears. “There are a lot of places I didn’t go with Patrick, and a bookshop would be number one on the list.”
“Did he read much?”
“Only his horoscope.”
“Did he believe in all that?”
He shrugs. “Only in so far that it suited him. If he didn’t like his own forecast, he’d take one from another star sign.”
“He cheated at astrology?” I say and my voice is far too delighted.
He shakes his head. “I’m getting the impression you don’t like Patrick.”
“I can’t imagine where that comes from,” I say innocently, and when he shoots me a glance, I smile brightly. “Luckily, I have been here before, which is why I am such an astounding guide for you.”
“So, our date is in a bookshop?” he says again.
I nod happily. “Not just any bookshop, though. This one was frequented by people like Florence Nightingale, Captain Scott, and Ernest Shackleton. Oh, and Jesse, Eli, Misha, and Charlie for the Amsterdam trip that shall forever be remembered for Charlie falling in the canal and being rescued by a man wearing leather chaps.” He laughs, and I grin back at him. “We do have a mission though,” I say solemnly as he goes to open the door. He pauses and steps back to allow a couple behind us to go through, and we move to the side, out of the way.
“Amission? What sort of date is this?” he asks.
“The best. Our mission is to each choose a travel guide to a country that we’d like to visit.”
