Page 40 of The Best of Times
“Oh we really must steal you back from America,” he said. “The literature buff that I discovered would never say that.”
Aron giggled. “Sorry, Prof.”
“But you asked for my opinion,” the Professor said. “I think that people should be given the opportunity to atone for their mistakes. Things don’t always have to return to the way they were. Indeed, many times they can’t. However, to feud is such a waste of one’s energy and only leads to regret.”
There he had it. Someone had verbalised that tiny flash of hope that refused to be extinguished. Something that would probably keep him awake tonight as he mulled it all over.
“I think you wanted me to say that, didn’t you?”
Aron’s eyes welled. “I really did. Thank you. I’m terrified.”
“Remember, you can’t lose something you don’t have,” the Professor replied. “I’ve learnt that, on occasion, going with the flow and letting things happen can have the most fruitful of outcomes.”
“A plan I feel will come in handy for your future married life.”
They both burst out laughing.
“What’s going on in here? Are we having a party?”
Paul came in the room as impossibly gorgeous as ever. He had on grey sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt. His locks, still wet from the bath, hung around his face. The sweatpants on the other hand clung to something far more interesting.
Aron was transfixed which only served to put that cocky grin on Paul’s face.
He flopped down on the other side of the couch to Aron, who drank in the smell of the potions Paul had had in the bath.
“How about a glass of wine?” the Professor said, getting to his feet. “Can’t let my fiancée have all the fun.”
Without waiting for an answer, he left the room.
“So what’s up?” Paul asked.
“Nothing,” Aron replied. “It’s stupid really. I’d identified an emotion and thought I’d share.”
“Oh yes? What’s that?”
Without thinking, Aron crawled up the couch and kissed Paul on the lips.
“Hope.”
CHAPTER TEN
Aron sat in the coffee shop, facing the door. When he and Jane had organised this meeting, she had made it clear that being seen together at the British Library was not appropriate. He was quite relieved. Until he had found out what she wanted, he still hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. It would be just his luck to run into the Professor or even worse, the ProfessorandGranny.
He found it unsettling being in the coffee shop. The smell and vibe whisked him back to New York. A familiar knot of anxiety appeared in his stomach when he thought of it. He had tried to put it down to Jane getting in touch. He wasn’t so sure.
Calm yourself. She might simply fancy a Christmas coffee. Or to pick your brains on the latest books coming out of the States.
They had never formally met but he instantly recognised her when she burst through the door, her straight brown hair blowing in the wind. She spotted him immediately and charged over. Aron reckoned she would be in her late forties. She exuded positivity and friendliness.
He stood and took her hand.
“Aron Wimpole. So good to finally meet you.”
“And you,” she said, shaking his hand. “Forgive the attire. We’re having a Christmas jumper day.”
She removed her bright red duffel coat to reveal a sweatshirt with a Christmas tree made up of books and the sloganAll booked up for Christmas.
“Nice choice,” he said. “I ordered you a flat white.”
