Page 57 of If We Were Young

My heart, it hurt, my breath coming too quick. I couldn’t stop staring at him, all of him. The small mole on his left cheek. The stubble I could almost feel against my fingertips without even touching him.

“I’ve missed you.” The words spurted like the mouth of a waterfall.

For a moment he dropped his head, studying the tablecloth. “I never expected you not to be in my life.” His declaration rumbled low and when he looked up, the dark liquid intensity of his gaze burned my insides.

“I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you at the reunion. I never wanted to go. Angela told me it would do me good.”

It sounded like he mumbled, “Course she did,” but he took a sip from his glass which distorted his words. Then his voice drifted louder, majors and minors rumbling through me.

“I felt like an arsehole not getting out of the lift to help you.”

“Good.”

I picked up another prawn cracker but then turned it to dust with my fingers, the small particles glistening like snow against the red napkin.

“Paul’s death must have devastated you.” A tightness hardened his tone.

Another shiver ran across my skin. “It made me angry. I’m still pretty angry.”

“I tried to call when I found out.”

“You did?”

“No. I mean, I dialled and then hung up.” He dropped his gaze again and a little dart of warning jangled my brain. My gaze hovered over his fingers looped around his glass.

“Why did you become a businessman? What happened to the art?”

When his gaze met mine, he arched an eyebrow. “I could ask the same question.”

That’s true he could. I shook my head and flashed a grin.

“Why did your marriage fail?”

The waiter hovered with his pad.

He didn’t answer, so I pushed more. Saying anything that popped into my head. “Angela says there are two types of friends. Those who fuck and those who don’t.”

“Is Angela the oracle on everything?”

“No.” I sighed. “Hannah prefers her to me though.”

“I doubt that.” He leant forward, and I watched and held my breath as his hand slowly came to rest under my ear. “I thought I could do this with you again, but now I don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Friends? Maybe Angela is right?”

“Maybe.”

He leant back in his chair. “Internet dating?”

“No chance. I’d rather be celibate.”

His gaze swept across me, leaving a burning trail of fire behind. “My marriage ended because it exhausted me.”

“Tired of being married?”

“Tired of lying.”