Page 44 of The English Professor

‘You made all this? This morning? Oh my God it smells incredible.’

‘Be careful, the skillets are still hot.’

‘Jack, this is amazing. More hidden talents, I see. Where did you learn to cook? I can barely boil an egg.’

‘My stepdad taught me. He was an amazing cook.’

She puts down her fork and knife. ‘Was?’

‘Yeah, he passed away a good few years ago. About five years ago actually.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thanks. I still miss him. I don’t know why I still call him my stepdad. He was my dad. Married my mum when I was six. My real father came and went through the years, never sticking around for very long. But my stepdad was always there. He was the one who took me to football, to clubs, everything. And looking back, I have no idea how he found the time. He was so busy with his work but somehow he always made time for me. I can never repay him for that.’ I have no idea why I’m suddenly opening up about all of this. What we have is a fling—we’d both agreed it would just be this once. So why am I telling her my whole life story, something I’d never done with any of the women I’d ever dated before?

‘It sounds like you were a very lucky little boy.’

I nod my head and clear my throat. I had never intended to open up about my stepdad even though he’s been on my mind a lot lately. They say time heals all wounds, but it doesn’t really. It just dulls the pain.

‘And what about your Mum? Does she live nearby?’ Leyna asks.

‘No, she lives down south, in Somerset.’

‘That’s a lovely part of the country. I’ve only been a few times, once with family and once with friends, during uni. Is that where you grew up?’

‘Yeah, it is beautiful. But my life is up here now.’

Leyna looks at me then looks back down at her food. We’re making small talk because neither one of us wants to address what happened last night. Although I’d be more than happy to give it all a go once more. Technically, so long as she’s here, it still counts asjust once.

‘And what about you? Does your family live nearby? Did you grow up in the North East?’

‘They live about twelve miles away,’ Leyna pauses looking around, getting her bearings, ‘in that direction,’ and she points towards the fireplace. ‘I think,’ she laughs. ‘And of course I was brought up here, can’t you tell by my accent?’

We both laugh. I had, of course, noticed her North East accent. Though I was no expert, her vowels and musical tones stood out to me. Everything feels easy with Leyna, the jokes, the banter. Even the difficult stuff, like talking about my stepdad. Only a couple of people at my work know I lost him a few years back and only because I took a few days off to go to the funeral. Leyna makes me want to open myself up to her even more.

Then she says, ‘Jack, when did you know it was me?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, when did you know I was the one modelling at the art classes? Was it before or after you asked me to model for you?’

I clear my throat. ‘I knew when I invited you here, absolutely. But initially, I thought I was losing it. I kept thinking, I’m seeing you everywhere. I’d come home and look at the paintings I’d done and think, now I’m drawing her everywhere.’

Leyna giggles. ‘That’s quite funny, actually.’

‘It wasn’t at the time,’ I protest. ‘I seriously thought I was having a mental breakdown.’

She giggles even harder. ‘And then that first night I came here? I wasn’t expecting to see your painting. But I was surprised when I saw that you’d painted me without any of myaccoutrements.’

‘Ah, yes. Well to be quite honest, that was a spur of the moment decision. An artistic one. I just thought, I’ll paint her as I see her in my head. With your long, coppery-brown locks. I was about ninety-nine per cent certain it was you. But what could I say? If you wanted to be anonymous, I wasn’t going to be the one to tear off your disguise.’

‘Always the gentleman.’

‘Ha! Yes, a gentleman painting nude women at home.’

‘That’s what Candace said!’

‘Who the hell is Candace?!’

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