Page 53 of Stepbrothers

“Yeah, green, so green and with flecks of brown, like that ice cream. What is it?” He paused, frowned. “Mint choc-chip.”

Clarice burst out laughing. An expulsion of tension. “Ice cream. Is this you trying to be romantic or something?”

“Or something.” He kissed her knuckles again. “I suppose I’m out of practice, huh.”

“No, it’s cute you think my eyes are like ice cream.”

He smiled. “Can I take you out to dinner one evening this week? For once my diary is manageable.”

“Mine isn’t. Same old, same old. Working in the café. I’m exhausted when I get home. Usually flop with the remote and a ready meal for one and wait for the weekend to have fun.”

“That’s no way to live, Clarice. And with a bit of luck those tablets will give you energy soon, the iron.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“But you have to eat. What’s local to here so it’s not far from your sofa?”

“I guess there’s a Pizza Express round the corner that’s pretty decent. Probably not high-end enough for you, though.”

“Hey, I like pizza the way everyone else does. I’ll see you there, Wednesday eight o’clock.”

“Can we make it seven-thirty?”

“Sure. But be there, Clarice, or I’ll come and get you.”

“I don’t doubt for a moment that you would.” She opened the car door. “Goodbye, Parker, thanks for the ride.”

“See you on Wednesday.”

Wednesday came around quicker than Clarice had anticipated. She’d been busy at the café. Called her landlord twice about a new drip in her bedroom that was now tapping into a saucepan on her dressing table. And she’d also sent off her PGCE form and had the confirmation of receipt.

Thank you for your application. Candidates will be informed by the end of the month if they have been successful in gaining an interview. Please do not reply to this email.

Thinking of the PGCE had her heart fluttering. Anticipation. Anxiety. Excitement.

What if she was rejected?

What if she was accepted?

The end of the month. That wasn’t long away. And then, if she was lucky enough to get a place, she could be starting in the new academic year.

A teacher.

Her—a teacher.

It was all she’d ever imagined herself doing.

And now, thanks to Hugh and Parker, she was a step closer to realizing that dream.

When she arrived at Pizza Express, Parker was already there, in a window seat, waiting. He had a cola in front of him.

“Hey,” she said, an unexpected rush of excitement gripping her when his gaze latched on to her and he smiled. The guy could grace a magazine cover, or an advert for cologne. He was what Wendy and Sharon would call panty-droppingly gorgeous.

“You look beautiful,” he said, standing and kissing her cheek.

“Jeans and a t-shirt? Not my most glamorous outfit.” She smiled and sat. “Have you come straight from the office?”

“Yes, sorry about the suit. It was this or be half an hour late.”

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