Page 31 of Mr Best Friend's Brother Grump

The barman pours out two flutes of deliciously bubbly wine, then leaves the bottle in the ice bucket. We each lift our glasses.

“To the best kiss… and our first kiss,” Nathan says, looking deep into my eyes.

“Which implies there will be more,” I say, taking a sip.

“I hope so.” Nathan drinks his Champagne, holding my gaze.

The waiter comes over to say that our table is ready. He picks up the ice bucket and we follow him through the arrangement of tables to one by the window with a view of the terrace, which is enclosed by an elaborate wrought iron balcony, entwined with ivy and strings of white fairy lights. The waiter lights a candle in the middle of the table and says that he’ll be back to take our order. The menu is on the table in front of me, although the butterflies in my stomach have chased away any thought of food.

“So, I guess, we have crossed a line,” Nathan says, perusing his menu.

A tinkling piano plays in the farthest corner. The dinner rush has been and gone and has been replaced by the late-night theater crowd who occupy some of the tables in twos and small intimate groups. We are far enough away from the other diners, so their conversation is a distant blur punctuated by occasional laughter.

“I guess we have.” I smile at Nathan.

Yes. A line has been crossed with That Kiss. It poses the question, ‘What next?’ But I am indulging in the wonderful moment, basking in the glow of what the kiss means. Blissful feelings bubble up and fill me, sparkling, like celebration Champagne fizz in a glass.

Chapter 26

Nathan

We have crossed the line. I know we have, but as Alfie said, if I didn’t act soon, I would risk losing Rosa forever and I couldn’t take that chance.

The kiss in the elevator. Wow. It was Rosa who made the first move. I simply followed. I was standing there beside her, trying to figure out when, how, and what I was going to do to get my point across; to let her know what I was feeling for her. Then, she turned to me and said, ‘Kiss me’, which was exactly what I wanted to do. So, I did.

It was as if we were in a movie: one of those glamorous Noir films where the hero finally gets the gal. Except our kiss was better than anything Hollywood could conjure. It truly was a magic moment that I wanted to go on and on. I had imagined Rosa’s soft lips and wrapping my arms around the sumptuous curves of her body, but the reality was so much more.

I felt, with that kiss, we had altered our course. We had stepped through a portal where our futures were parallel. Whatever we were and whatever we did, from that moment, we did together. My life had changed, profoundly, with one kiss, in an elevator going up to a speakeasy bar. Rosa was now a part of my world, and I didn’t want to live in a world without her.

So, we would need to come clean with Kendra, which was sure to alter the dynamic of our relationship, as well as that of Kendra’s friendship with Rosa. I hope she’ll be supportive, but I really don’t know.

Rosa scans the menu and orders French fries when the waiter comes over.

“I’m not supposed to fall for my best friend’s brother,” Rosa says, smiling at me, looking mock coy. “It’s not allowed... Off-limits…” She looks around La Belle Nuit. “A bit like this bar in prohibition.” She laughs and I lean over to kiss her.

“Yes, extreme pleasure is detrimental to the nation and should be banned.” I lick my lips which taste of Rosa. “Does the off-limits factor make the pleasure more desirable?” I ask, reaching for the Champagne bottle in the ice bucket. Wiping off the condensation with a serviette, I top up our glasses, then replace the bottle. “Would you still be attracted to me if you met me in… well, this place?” I sip from my glass, trying not to think about our age difference. I absentmindedly touch the grey hair, I know is there, at my temples. I dispel an image of Rosa here with a younger, more attractive man. “Or would you even notice me?” I surprise myself with this sudden lack of confidence.

Rosa laughs. Her eyes shine in the candlelight. She leans back in her chair appraising me, which is unnerving and exciting in equal measure. Her earrings glint playfully.

“Nathan.” She leans towards me and strokes my hair, then traces a finger across my cheek and down my neck. “You are the most handsome man I have ever seen: a total silver fox. And so much more interesting than any man my age… if that’s what you are concerned about.” She laughs again. “If I saw you here tonight, I would…” Rosa laughs again. “… I would want to make some excuse to come over and talk to you, but I would be too shy… Then I’d be staring…” She thinks for a minute. “… and it would be weird and awkward. And I would probably feel so self-conscious I would need to leave.” She sips her wine. “But, you know, being handsome isn’t top of my attractive man requirements list.”

“Oh, there’s a list, is there?”

“Certainly is.”

“So, what’s at the top of your attractive man requirements list, if handsome, isn’t up there?”

Rosa leans against me, licks her lips, and whispers, “Great taste in movies… and ice cream.”

We kiss. And there’s a pause in conversation as we drink our Champagne. The French fries arrive with a small dish of aioli and another of plum sauce.

“I’m starving,” Rosa says, using her fingers, and not a fork, to take a piece of fried potato, dipping it, before offering it to me. I bite it in two, with relish. The French fries are perfectly golden and piping hot. We eat in silence, and I’m distracted by couples making use of the secluded terrace. I’m thinking about, perhaps, making use of the terrace myself, until Rosa says, “That kiss… the one in the elevator.”

“Yes. Very nice. What about it?”

“It was just a kiss, right?” Rosa is looking at me. Her face is open and questioning.

“And what if I told you, that it was just a kiss, and didn’t mean anything… And we should forget all about it and leave it at that...” I pick up my Champagne glass and look at Rosa over the rim. “I’m a big-time, award-winning photographer.” I put the glass down and reach into my pocket, retrieving the Perspex hexagon with my name etched on it, placing it, dramatically, on the table. “… and I do this sort of thing all the time.”

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