Page 8 of The Price of Love
‘Have you? Really?’
‘Really.’ He turned my hand over on the tabletop, tracing my lifeline with his index finger. ‘Willow, I—’
‘Mr Fry, sir.’ Over Luke’s left shoulder appeared a man so generically waiter that I couldn’t have picked him out of a line-up, even if all the other linees had been seven-feet tall,dreadlocked and covered in tattoos. ‘You have a telephone call, sir.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, sir. In the foyer, sir, if you would like to follow me.’
Luke flicked me an apologetic glance as he followed, offering me a shrug and comedy-raised eyebrows. I used his absence to give the menu a quick once-over. This was one of those places where they look as though they’ll demand your first-born if you can’t pay the bill. I thought that I must recommend it to Katie. She’d gladly hand over both her first-borns for a meal she didn’t have to wash-up after. The waiter topped up my wine again and shortly afterwards Luke was back.
‘I amsosorry, Willow.’ He genuinely looked it. His mouth was drawn down into a tight line, his skin furrowed across his forehead. ‘It was just James being a complete pillock about some figures, that’s all. It could have waited until tomorrow, but he’s a bit of an old woman when it comes to the accounts.’
‘Well, it must be hard when you’re running on different time zones. Must be, what, early afternoon in Boston?’
Luke flashed me an odd look, then shook his hair back and took my hand again across the table. ‘Anyway. Where were we? I believe I was telling you how great it is to have met up with you, having spent the last decade running through all those conversations we should have had, if only I’d had the guts to ask you out.’
As the evening continued, we fell into many of those conversations. Life stories were exchanged, or at least, edited highlights were bandied around. I might have talked up my English degree a trifle, and I didn’t let on that IknewLuke was skating over the surface of the truth when he told me his mother had died and left his father to bring up James and himself. As I think I told you earlier, I knew anenormousamount about the young Luke Fry, and the whisper had been that his mother hadrun off to Amsterdam with the man she’d been having an affair with.
And, do you know the best part? I was only sick once. Between starter and main course, which was even better because I would have hated to have wasted those scallops — they were delicious. I made it to the Ladies in decorous time, pretending I needed to check my make-up. God, could things get any better?
‘Goodnight, Willow. I hope you don’t mind me not coming in or anything, but I really ought to go and call James, make sure he’s over his panic.’ The BMW pulled up outside my house and Luke leaned across me to open the door.
‘No, of course.’ I went to slide off the leather seat, but he stopped me with one hand on my shoulder.
‘I wanted to . . .’ Long fingers tipped my face towards him, lips shaped like the most delectable dessert descended on mine. I closed my eyes and lost myself totally in the elastic kiss. ‘See you tomorrow, Will,’ he whispered.
Did I say things couldn’t get any better?
Chapter Five
‘He sounds a bit iffy to me.’ Jazz cradled a pint and looked up at me over his Guinness moustache.
‘Why? Because he wants to go out with Willow? Why does that make him “iffy”?’ Katie leaped to my defence.
‘Oh, I dunno. He just sounds a bit, full on, yeah?’
Now, before you start getting ideas, Jazz doesn’t think of me in that way, if you know what I mean. We did have oneextremely embarrassingmoment way back, when we briefly entertained the notion of going out together as more than mates. But that was in the days when we both wore advanced dental appliances, he was still called Jasper, and our combined puppy fat could have built a litter of Great Danes. Since then we have been happy to be friends and give one another the uncensored version of the truth about our chosen romantic partners. Katie actually thinks Jazz fancies my sister, but I like him too much to hope this is the case.
‘I mean, you only met him this time last week and you’ve been out with him just about every single night — ’s not natural. That’s not, like, dating, that’s obsession, that is.’ Jazz mouthed another swirl of beer. ‘I tried to ring you last night and there was no answer.’
I’d heard the phone ringing as Luke and I had fallen, giggly and entwined, through the front door, but I’d been a little bit otherwise engaged. ‘What did you want?’
‘Another pint, please, Will, if you’re offering.’
‘Sod.’ But I went to the bar anyway. It was nice to be drinking with the gang again. ‘Why did you ring, then?’ I asked as I got back.
‘Only wondering if you’d be free to sing on Sunday night. We’ve got a short-notice gig in the Basement Bar.’
‘But isn’t there anyone else?’
‘Nah. Big Rosie’s off down to Devon for the weekend, won’t be back.’
‘Go on, Will, you haven’t sung for ages.’ Katie leaned forward at me drunkenly. ‘And, I mean, Luke sounds lovely and everything but’ — a quick glance to Jazz for support — ‘you still need to do stuff on your own.’
There was a slow spreading warmth inside me that had nothing to do with the rapidly ingested beer. Luke had promised to come to lunch at Bree’s on Sunday. If I had a booking in the evening, he might stay on and watch the band (in my imagination I was shining in the spotlight already) and then, maybe, I might be able to persuade him to stay overnight.
Katie noticed my slight frown. ‘Wassup, Wills?’
