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“Is my company that dreadful?” I tease. “I wanted to treat you, given that you came out all this way. I really appreciate it. You were awesome. I mean, you’re going to have to explain everything all over again to me, ‘cos I was too busy trying not to pass out, but yeah, I actually feel a smidge better for going.”
“Good,” he says. “I’m pleased.”
I absorb his peaky, anxious face. “You don’t look it.”
“No, I am. I just feel utterly drained.” He fiddles with some hair under his hoodie, as if he’s curling it around his fingers. “I warned you. I’m a bit flaky.”
“Ha! No, you’re not. You’re a low-key super hero, Luke. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Dinner, then. This week, wherever and whenever suits you.”
I’ll be disappointed if he says no. He’s not my usual type by any stretch of the imagination but, strangely, he kind of does it for me. I treat him to my most winning smile. Eventually, I get a tiny one back.
“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”
CHAPTER 10
LUKE
Why am I doing this to myself?
I finish tapping out my clinic notes onto the screen. When Neil suggested dinner, my brain lit up like an alarm panel, then almost short-circuited when I heard my voice agreeing to it.What was I thinking?Dinner, at my place (given he gave me options), with another human being. A crazily attractive human being.
I’ve had three days to retract. Neil would understand if I did, because by now he must surely understand that my mental health issues are far more than a couple of short-lived episodes of feeling low. Indeed, I had a chance to do exactly that when he firmed up a time by text earlier this afternoon and insisted on bringing a bottle of wine.
But I didn’t, because I felt strong enough to go through with it. I still do, bizarrely. It’s taken me the entirety of an all-day clinic to realise the intermittent flip-flopping of my belly isn’t fear that I can’t cope, but a small thrill of anticipation that I can, and am actually looking forward to proving it to myself.
I’m not worried about the food—my cooking’s fine. I plan to prepare a vegan chilli given that my brain was too busy somersaulting to remember to ask Neil if he has any specific food allergies or requirements. In addition, I’ve been reading around RP, and lots of veggies and good nutrition are essential for optimising retinal health. From what I gleaned from the appointment, Neil’s retinae need all the help they can get. And if he’s okay with dairy, then he’ll get crème caramel egg custard for dessert; milk products are loaded with Vitamin A. Slowly eroding peripheral visual fields are the biggest problems for RP sufferers, until all that’s left is a narrow tunnel through the middle. He needs to do everything he can to keep that tunnel as wide open as possible.
“Someone’s in a hurry to get out of here,” says a mischievous voice behind me as I hurry down the corridor. “On a promise, Doctor?”
“No.” Obviously, I blush.
Seeing it, Alaric swings into step beside me. “Are you sure about that, Doctor?”
“Very sure.” If anyone knows I don’t date, it’s Alaric. I’m forever third-wheeling around him and Gerald.
“In which case, why don’t you come over to mine? Gerald’s at a conference in Birmingham until tomorrow. We can pig out with a takeaway and watch a film.”
Bugger. “Thank you. But I’m…um… Neil’s dropping by for a bit of food later, that’s all.”
Alaric’s eyes light up. “Who’s Neil?”
Proving precisely how preposterous this thing really is. “You know? Neil, one of your best friends? Lots of hair, sings in a band, runs your favourite bar? Your old fuck buddy?”
“What? How do you…why is that happening and I didn’t know about it?”
Not about to reveal any of Neil’s secrets, I shrug. “I dunno. We…um…after that head injury thing when I stayed over for a few hours at his place to keep an eye on him, we…well, have kind of become friends.”
“Just friends?” The eyebrows go up again.
“Yes. It is possible, you know, Alaric.”
“I know, I know.” He bumps my shoulder. “Not sure Neil does, though. Are you aware that in Neil’s world dinner is a prelude to jumping someone’s bones?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s me, Alaric. He doesn’t need to trek over to my place and listen to all my insecurities if he wants a shag, does he? Not when he can simply roll out of bed and wander downstairs.”
“What, like you wanderedupstairsthe other night?” He grins wickedly as I blush again. “Isaac told me.”
“We’re friends,” I repeat. “That’s all. We get together and slag off all our cosily loved-up mates. Gives us singles something to do of an evening.”
