Page 17 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
“When are you back?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. He was away for a few more days, wasting his time looking at birds and walking in the middle of nowhere. Those words, I managed to bite back.
“Well, that’s the thing. I’m cutting it short and coming back tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. My heart lurched.
“… weather’s turned really bad. Driving rain and freezing. I might be a bird geek, but I’m not risking bloody frost bite.”
“What? Yeah, right.” All I could hear wastomorrow. “We said we’d meet up when you got back.” The words rushed out, and I was powerless to stop them. “There’s a really nice bar in Soho, then we could go for dinner?—”
“Erm, no…”
No. He was still talking but I couldn’t hear a word, not over the high pitched static filling my head.Noto meeting.Noto drinks and dinner.Noto me. We were finished before we’d even started. Kelvin was right, Kit didn’t belong in my world, and hisnoonly showed he knew it too.
“Alex? Are you still there?”
“Yes,” I said clearing my throat.
“What do you reckon? It’s a lovely idea, but I don’t think I’m going to be up for bars and restaurants.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. Light, good natured laughter replaced the crackle of static in my head. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you?
He was right, because the only voice I’d been listening to was my own and the only word I’d heard wasno.
“I realise it’s a trek, but why not come to my place? I’ll cook, and we can watch a film. I owe you for your mean cheese omelette after all.” He no longer sounded quite so sure; I imagined his tight hold on his mobile, the frown creasing his forehead as he waited for me to say?—
“Sounds like a plan.” I smiled, and the tension in my shoulders eased. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ALEX
No busy bar or restaurant filled with distractions, but an invite to another man’s home for dinner. Just the two of us, for a quiet night in. It was way outside of my experience, and so far from my comfort zone it might as well have been on the other side of the universe and beyond. We’d spent time alone of course, if the VIP area at Euphoria could have been called that, and then again when we’d bumped into each other at Stephano’s and he’d come around to mine where we had, in a sense, started again. But those had been chance meetings.
I booked an Uber, not wanting to use one of our drivers, not wanting it to get back to Kelvin where I had gone. After our conversation, if it could be called that, I had no desire to talk to him again about Kit.
The driver pulled up a few doors away from Kit’s. I wanted to get a sense of the kind of place he lived in before I knocked on his door. The development of new builds wastucked behind a busy main road. Small starter homes, and not too many of them, but all the signs were there to say more were to be built. It was neat, clean, and suburban, and I had a sudden image of Kelvin smirking, his dark eyes mocking. I shoved him aside, because Kelvin had no place here.
Kit’s house stood out from his neighbours'; I would have known it was his even if I hadn’t had the address. The small paved path to his front door lit up as soon as I set foot on it, illuminating the pots of winter blooming flowers—I had no idea what they were—that lined the way, providing a burst of colour in the depths of winter, and the china plaque screwed into the wall with the house number painted on was decorated with birds.
I moved the bag I was carrying, which held a couple of bottles of wine and some chocolates, from one hand to another. I was tense, but not with the tension that gripped me tight each and every day, the tension that was so much a part of me I only really noticed it when it eased. No, this was different. It was like how I imagined first date nerves to be, not that I knew what any kind of date was like, let alone a first. Whatever, it didn’t stop me from considering, if only for a moment, that it might be better for both him and me if I turned around and walked away.
If I had a chance to change my mind, it was gone, because the door opened and Kit, dressed in jeans and a baggy, too big sweat shirt that reminded me of his oversized coat, smiled up at me. He looked at ease and relaxed, which was about as far from what I was feeling as you could get, and impossibly sweet. I swallowed. Sweet? When had I ever thought of a man assweet?
“You made it.”
He said it like he hadn’t been entirely sure I’d turn up, as he stood aside to let me in.
I shrugged, shifting the bag again from hand to hand. “Thought I’d see if you could actually cook.”
Kit grinned. “Come through. I hope you’re not expecting high end dining? Simple and filling is more my style of cooking. In other words, my culinary skills know their boundaries.”
Like my flat, the space was open plan, with the kitchen area separated by a breakfast bar. But that was where the similarities ended. Kit’s entire house could have fitted into my lounge, with room to spare, but it wasn’t the difference in size that struck me most, it was the feel of the place. This was a home in a way my stark flat wasn’t and never had been. Soft, warm lighting glowed from a single lamp in the corner and a faint hum of music, something bluesy, floated in the air. A large, squashy looking sofa took up a lot of floor space but what struck me more than anything were the books. They were everywhere. They overflowed the large, white painted, packed bookcase that was too big for the small room, stacked either side of it and looking like one nudge would send them tumbling. I’d never seen so many books, outside of a library or a bookshop, not that I’d been into either in years.
“I, erm, like books.” He looked a little sheepish, like I’d somehow caught him out in a secret. “Is that for me?” He nodded towards the bag I was holding onto for dear life.
“Yes. Red and white, one of each, seeing as I didn’t know what you were making. Bought some chocolates, too.” I thrust the bag at him. Wine and chocolate. All that was needed were the flowers for a full on date offering.
He poked around inside the bag. “Oh, wow. These are from a very posh shop. Honestly, just a bottle of supermarket own brand would have been more than enough. And these chocs, too… But thank you.” He felt the white. “This needs chilling. I’ve got a bottle of white already open—the very best own brand, naturally. Or would you prefer your very classy red?”
