Page 50 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
I laugh. “No, not at all. I haven’t been for ages actually, but Mike and I used to go all the time when we first moved in here.”
“Shit.” I draw to a halt. Trust me to mess up at the first hurdle. “Shall we go somewhere else?”
She tugs on my arm. “No. It’s about time I started making some new memories for myself. And the food is really good.”
Her assurances relax me, and I grin. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Absolutely. And anyway, I like that it’s just around the corner. I can’t go too far in these heels.”
“They’re sexy as hell, though. Keep them on and I’ll just carry you everywhere.”
Holly laughs, her deep, from-the-chest laugh, and happiness swells inside me. Yeah, she’s beautiful, sexy, funny, caring. Everything I could ask for. But it isn’t only her I’m dating. She has a family, too, and I have to remember that. I haven’t quite processed it yet, not fully. I know her having a son isn’t enough to chase me away, though, I just don’t understand fully what it means to have children around.
I’d been an only child myself and had always felt envious of my friends with their brothers and sisters. The big family Christmases when it was only ever me and my mum and dad. They’re still together, living in the same North London family home I grew up in, and I visit for Sunday lunch a couple of times a month. But yeah, I like the idea of having a family of my own, even if it’s a family that’s been pieced together from someone else’s broken marriage. I can barely believe my mind is going in that direction. I need to rein myself in. Trouble is, when you date a woman like Holly, those are the things that need to be thought about. It won’t be fair on anyone if I get into this only to change my mind.
We arrive at the pub. It’s more modern than cosy, with wooden floors and high ceilings. I order a beer, and she goes for her customary white wine. The menu is written on a huge chalkboard on the wall, and we have to order at the bar, giving our table number rather than have the more formal waitress service.
Both of us decide to go for the steak.
“How do you want that cooked?” the girl behind the bar asks.
“Medium-rare,” I say and then look to Holly.
“Oh, thank God you said that,” she says, holding her hand to her chest. “Nothing annoys me more than a guy who insists on having his steak well done.”
I laugh. “No chance of that. I like a little blood to dip my chips in.”
“Me, too.”
We grin at each other, and my face heats. When she looks at me like that, the rest of the world vanishes and it’s just the two of us.
We take our drinks over to the table, choosing seats beside each other rather than opposite. While we wait for our food to arrive, we discuss every topic possible, from what films and music we like, to what we’d been like at school, pausing only when the food arrives. I discover that Holly had been the quiet, studious kind, while I had bunked off whenever I could and left at sixteen.
Our meals arrive and we both thank the waitress.
“You said the guy you work with gave you a chance.” Holly pops a chip into her mouth and chews.
I nod, careful to choose my words. “Yeah. I fell in with the wrong crowd when I was at school—older guys who used to be into some stupid stuff—stealing cars and dealing weed—that kind of thing. I got myself a bit of a bad reputation and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. It was a bit of a downward spiral, but then Art and I met through some mutual friend neither of us sees anymore, and he told me what he did. I’d always loved to draw but never once considered it was something I could actually do as a job.” I pause, taking a swig of my beer, and then continue. “When I mentioned that I drew to Art, he told me to come back and bring some examples of my work. I stayed up all night putting together a whole portfolio and went to the shop the next morning, having had no sleep. I was only twenty-one then, and the rest is history.” I lift my beerbottle, angling it in her direction. “What about you? How did you get into your job?”
She shrugs. “Mine’s pretty dull compared to your story. Left school, got my A-levels, started an office job and worked up from there. I met Mike when our company was doing some work with his. I was only twenty-two at that point and by the time I was twenty-five, I was already pregnant. We got married, and I had Dylan and dropped down to part-time hours. Mike and I should never have got married. If it hadn’t been for Dylan, we probably would have broken up long ago.” She shrugs. “But then I wouldn’t have had Dylan, and I’d trade years of putting up with Mike if it meant having that boy in my life.”
I watch how her face changes when she talks of her son, a softness to her blue eyes, a faraway smile spreading across her face. It occurs to me that being a mother simply ads another facet to a woman. It teaches her how to be selfless, and most importantly, how to love another human being more than you love yourself.
13
HOLLY
We don’t need to have a conversation about what will happen once we finish our meals. In an unspoken agreement, we walk the few streets back to my house again. Kane’s hand automatically finds mine, and I can’t help but look up at him while we walk, a stupid smile on my face. No one has made me feel this way for such a long time. I honestly thought that, at the ripe old age of thirty-two, I was beyond this whole loved-up feeling, but I’m quickly discovering the spark still exists inside me. I’m not dead and buried just yet.
“What about Dylan coming home?” Kane asks, pausing outside of the front door before he steps over the threshold.
“He won’t be home tonight, not unless Mike decides to be an arsehole again.”
“What about the morning?”
“His dad should take him straight to school. If he doesn’t, you might just have to be quicker at hiding in the bathroom this time.”
Kane laughs. “I can manage that.”
