by Carrie Stone
'You did what?!' I said loudly.
A wave of nausea swept through me. Edward was expecting my call. I would have to call Edward. I sunk my face into my hands as Carl looked at me defensively.
'What did I do? I thought it was to discuss a job proposal? I didn’t want to give him your number just in case you'd purposefully given him the wrong one.'
I lifted my head in disbelief. 'Carl, I have been waiting for over two weeks for Edward to call me to ask me out. I have practically been in purgatory waiting for my mobile to ring.'
He suddenly had the good grace to stop eating as realisation sunk in.
'Oh right, I see' was all he managed by way of apology.
'When did Edward contact you to tell you this?' I asked trying to keep my voice calm and the irritation I was feeling from flaring into anger.
'Last week I think. He sounded very keen to talk with you. In fact, he was quite insistent that I give him your number.'
My irritation dispelled and I felt my emotions floating upwards into a happy bubble of excitement. Edward was very keen to talk to me.
Carl retrieved his wallet from his small suede messenger man bag. Flicking it open he located what he was looking for.
'Edward's business card.' He held out the thick black matt card towards me.
Embossed in sleek platinum coloured engraving was the name Edward Wainwright, followed by three international mobile options.
'Thanks' I said taking the card and inspecting it closely.
It held no further secrets. I secured it within the zipped compartment of my purse with the same amount of care and delicacy as I would handle a butterfly.
My food arrived just as Carl was finishing his last mouthful. Almost calculatedly, whilst I ate he took the opportunity to launch into details of his new relationship with Stuart. Not pausing for breath, he talked whilst I nodded encouragingly.
My mind drifted to Edward and the phone call I would have to make when I returned home. I suppressed an anxious frown and tried to concentrate on Carl as he recounted Stuart's willingness to share a bath together. Quite frankly, the bath antics of the gay lovers was as far removed from my level of interest as learning a knitting pattern.
Edward's face floated into my thoughts and I let myself surrender to the daydream.
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The house was empty upon my return home, my head still clouded by Carl's incessant two hours of chatter. I sat quietly on the sofa, grateful for the peace and stillness. I needed to collect my thoughts. Edward's business card was rested upon my lap, mockingly taunting my self esteem every time I looked downwards.
The clock hands on the large display opposite to me slowly made their way around the face, as I sat and stared into the distance.
Only when the clock chimed and I realised that I had been lost in an altered state of consciousness for quite some time, did I focus on the mobile phone held in my right hand.
Taking a deep breath, I concentrated on the business card before me. It was time to make the call. After two weeks of assumed rejection, I would finally get to speak to the man I had been waiting upon. But would it be all I hoped for?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I was nervous. My palms were sweaty, my hair was starting to flatten and my forehead was beginning to look greasy. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock yet but I hoped he'd arrive soon.
I surveyed my outfit for a third time. A simple black shift dress and black suede stilettos. It was enough; classy, elegant and safe. I just hoped he didn’t have intentions to take me bowling or to the cinema. My mind started to go into overdrive at the horror of having to trade stilettos for flat, ugly bowling shoes.
Headlights flooded the hallway. He was here. Grabbing my bag, I dashed towards the kitchen and slugged down the final dregs of my glass of wine. My nerves began to steady as the cool liquid took effect.
A gentle tap at the door ensued. Taking a deep breath, I walked casually into the hall, aware he could see my every move through the stained glass panelling. Gently opening the door, I felt my face flush. He was even more handsome than I’d recalled. Wearing a blue suit, no tie and carrying an extremely large bunch of exotic flowers, he smiled. I noticed as his eyes drank me in and began to twinkle.
'Wow Lizzie, you look stunning' he said with a genuinity and warmth I had never before experienced from a first date.
'Why, thank you' I allowed my eyes to fix firmly on his, ignoring the palpitations it sent riveting through my body. 'You look rather dashing yourself. Almost as good as those beautiful flowers you're holding' I gestured him to come inside.
As he stepped into the hall I felt his presence tower above me. His well built frame, obvious beneath his suit. He handed me the flowers and I delicately took them, leading us through to the kitchen. I silently prayed that he wouldn’t notice the half empty wine bottle and empty glass that sat on the table. I didn’t want him thinking I was a lush.
'Nice place you have here' he said nodding his head and looking around the room.
I shrugged, a little embarrassed. 'Thanks, it’s actually my friend Mel's house. I’m just a tenant.'
I span around searching for a vase, grateful for the excuse to shield my mortification. I was in my late twenties and I didn’t even own my own property. There was no use lying about it; if he and I were to marry, he'd be expecting me to sell and contribute towards the family home at some point. Now I’d been upfront, he probably assumed I had a huge savings balance instead – responsibly contributing on a monthly basis.
Except I had no such thing. I didn’t even own a car. My total worth came down to thirty eight pairs of shoes, four large suitcases of clothes and three diamond rings. If I online auctioned the majority of it, then I could raise a couple of thousand pounds at most. Enough to buy a one way ticket to Africa and become a volunteer on a reserve. At least they provided accommodation and food. Realistically, I’d probably only need five pairs of shoes there and certainly no more than one suitcase.
He leaned against the worktop in a comfortable manner; at ease as if he were in his own home.
'I’ve always loved apartment living. I have a house in the country that I rent out, and here in the city I have an apartment in the Docklands. However, I'm mostly overseas at the moment' he said as I finished arranging the flowers in a vase.
I turned to face him and once again felt my face flush. He was perfect in every way possible. I was sure it wasn’t my imagination but there seemed to be an electric current between us.
Struggling to find words to hold a conversation with him, I politely nodded. His presence was unnerving me, my thoughts were becoming erratic. His effect on me was glaringly obvious.
'Shall we go? I've made dinner reservations at Le Garçon if that's suitable for you?' he asked boring into my eyes.
‘Sounds perfect’ I lied. I had absolutely no idea where Le Garçon was and I wasn’t keen on French food. However, nothing could spoil the feeling of rightness that was taking over me as we headed out into the night together towards his car, my arm in Edward's.
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Le Garçon was small, dimly lit and appeared as if it belonged in a fairytale. A quaint, cottage style façade covered in climbing ivy; it emanated a warm, inviting ambience through its decorative, leaded windows.
Edward put his arm around my shoulders as we walked the short distance to the doorway. I felt safe, protected and strangely like I belonged there within his embrace.
We were greeted by Marcel, a pretty French woman who upon seeing Edward blushed deep scarlet and stumbled on her welcoming speech. Marcel couldn’t hide her envy as she led Edward and I to our discreetly situated table at the back of the restaurant. Slightly secluded from the other diners, our very own small, open fire with burning embers, was positioned to the left of us. Funky abstract art and sculptures occupied the walls and edges of the room.
I was wide eyed with delight, drinking in the atmosphere and décor.
‘Edward, this place is amazing - an absol
ute gem’ I had never been taken somewhere quite as quaint and romantic before.
Edward laughed and reached across for my hand, gently intertwining his fingers in mine. For the first time that evening, I didn’t blush. It felt natural.
'I’m so pleased you appreciate it as much as I do. I wanted to bring you somewhere special' he said taking a sip of his wine. 'You see, Lizzie, I've been thinking about you lots since we met at Carl’s party. There was something different about you and I would love to get to know you more.'
My heart skipped a beat at his words and I allowed myself to smile.
'Well if truth be told I was very much hoping you'd get in contact.’
We both locked eyes and I felt his hand gently squeeze mine, the irony of my comment not lost on either of us.
The waitress brought us the starters and I tried to eat as delicately and ladylike as possible. It was a divine selection of exotic pickles, cured meats and pate. I was aware I had to refrain from scoffing the entire plate in the space of a few minutes. Edward had no such problem. He dived in heartily, eating quickly. I was tempted to join in with his vigour for the food but decided against it. Men may like women with healthy appetites but seeing them shovel food into their mouth on a first date, was perhaps crossing the boundary.
As the wine flowed and the evening progressed, so too did the conversation and I found myself telling Edward about my job. Carefully avoiding letting him know it was an independent agency, I instead gave him the impression I worked for a reputable large travel corporate. A woman has her standards.
Edward briefly filled me in on his many business ventures and I soon realised that he didn’t settle for average. He claimed part of his success was credited to not waiting for opportunities to come to him. I hoped this indicated he wasn’t the type to play games in relationships. I had played enough games to last me a lifetime. I wanted someone honest and direct. Well, perhaps not too direct. It's never good for a woman's self esteem to know her hips are huge in a particular dress. I wanted someone honest and tactfully direct.
As we chatted about our friends, social life and family, we found we both shared the same sense of humour. Every time I laughed loudly, and on one occasion slightly snorted, Edward laughed with me, eyes locked on mine and twinkling. The connection between us was palpable.
Surprisingly he didn’t refrain from opening up to me, telling me how difficult it had been to be orphaned as a teenager; especially as an only child. Mentally, I made note that this meant no awkward Sunday lunches or stand off’s with interfering in-laws. Outwardly I tried to look sympathetic.
After a little too much wine, I was conscious that I had begun to feel light-headed and was becoming slightly more exaggerated in my flirtation. As Edward signalled to settle the bill, I excused myself from the table and headed for the restroom.
My hair had flattened slightly and my eyes weren’t as smoky as when I'd left the house but my complexion was flushed and sparkling. I looked radiant and I knew full well it was courtesy of my dashing dinner date. Throwing my head over, I tried to add more volume to my hair with my fingers in an attempt to give myself a more sensual air.
Heading back to the table, I approached to find Edward speaking on his mobile. His previous happy demeanour was replaced with a look of irritation.
'I don’t have time for this. It’s difficult to talk now anyway' he said angrily to the person on the other end of the line.
As I passed him to seat myself, he snapped the phone shut and his face softened.
'Sorry, business and incompetent lawyers' he said standing up and signalling that we should leave.
Marcel was quick to fetch my coat and Edward gallantly helped me into it. However, his body language suggested he was no longer in the moment. He looked deep in thought and I felt slightly awkward as we said our thanks and I followed him back to his car.
It had been an almost perfect evening and as I sat alongside Edward on the journey home, my stomach twitched at the thought of him kissing me farewell. He'd certainly expressed his attraction to me. We'd found ourselves more than at ease in each other’s company. Even now as he lightly chatted about his impending business trip, I felt like I was in the presence of an old friend. Except this friend was sexy, charming and gentlemanly.
As I pretended to listen to his chatter, my mind was awash with thoughts of ripping off his suit and letting him do things that friends certainly do not do to one another. Was he feeling the same way about me?
Our gentle laughter filled the car as he pulled into my road and delivered the punch line for the joke he had been telling.
The lights in the living room glowed softly through the Indian silk curtains. Mel was home.
'Here we are then' Edward brought the car to a stop outside the house and turned to face me. 'I hope you had a good evening. I had a really wonderful night, I've thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you a bit better, Lizzie.'
I tried to suppress the toothy smile that was spreading across my face and continued to fiddle with my seatbelt, nerves causing me to avoid eye contact.
'Yes, I've really enjoyed myself too. Especially the food. It would be great to do it again sometime.'
Shit. That had come out completely wrong. I sounded like I was more concerned about gaining another free meal than spending time in his company. My realisation made me cringe and I looked up in embarrassment.
'Sorry, what I mean is, I'd love to spend more time with you. I enjoyed tonight.'
Edward laughed. 'I know what you meant' and his eyes locked with mine.
I knew he was assessing whether to lean in to kiss me. My heart jumped into my throat.
I opened the car door hastily, breaking the moment.
'OK, so thanks again' I lifted one leg out of the car smiling in Edward's direction, trying to hide my mortification at my actions. I was behaving like a teenager. So nervous was I to let him kiss me, that I was scrambling from his car.
Edward looked amused and reached out, grabbing my arm gently before I had a chance to escape.
'I'll call you, Lizzie - let's do this again.'
My toothy smile beat my nerves to spread itself proudly across my face 'Sure, I’d love to.'
His grip dropped from my arm and he turned to start the car engine. I walked the short distance to the street door, knowing his eyes were watching my every move and feeling his stare against my back. Turning to wave him off, I watched as he winked at me before slowly driving away.
It had been a magical evening and I felt secure in knowing that he too had felt the connection between us. He'd even made reference at the dinner table to it being the start of something potentially special. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect unfolding.
Why then did I have a niggling feeling of impending disaster in the pit of my stomach?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Stella was heating up the children's porridge as Miles walked into the kitchen.
'Morning darling' he said chirpy, seating himself at the large oak dining table and reaching for the coffee pot.
'Morning' Stella rolled her eyes, back turned to her husband.
He hadn't returned home for dinner last night as he'd been working late. She'd spent the evening alone once again, thinking about Chris.
Ever since Stella had told Lizzie of her affair she'd felt like a guilty child waiting to be caught and reprimanded. She constantly looked for excuses to blame Miles, his annoying habits, the way he spoke, the things he did. Deep down she knew the fact of the matter was partly that she had fallen out of love with her husband. Chris on the other hand – Chris was sensitive, loving, and fun; everything Miles used to be.
'Darling, I was talking to Adam the other day. He mentioned there's a corporate sailing weekend in Cowes we may like to attend. I thought you might enjoy it?' Miles' voice cut into Stella's thoughts. He looked up, waiting for her reaction.
Stella stiffened; the last thing she wanted was to spend a full weekend with her husband. Did he really expect after six mo
nths of being unavailable that she would want to pander to his whims for forty eight hours solid?
'Hmm sure, but what will we do with the kids?' Stella asked, distracted. 'Emily's already told us she wants to cut down on weekends.'
Emily was the children's nanny. The type of woman who was unfortunate enough never to have been taught how to dress feminine or apply make-up, the end result being a woman that lived in baggy trousers and oversized t-shirts with her hair scraped back.
Stella had been dying to make her over for the past five months, but short of taping Emily to the dressing table, she was having none of it. She had said on more than one occasion that the girly look wasn't for her and she felt comfortable in her baggy masculine clothes. Stella secretly wondered if Emily was hiding a set of testicles in the jeans. It would make sense as to why she also had a slightly hairy chin.
Miles ignored Stella's comment. He was already engrossed once again in the finance section of his newspaper.
Stella looked at his neat, clean cut appearance. His short, cropped blonde hair, perfectly waxed into place. She thought back to the days that she'd found him irresistible. He'd been young and ambitious and such a catch for his age. One of the only men she knew at the time to drive a Porsche and rent their own apartment within minutes of the city.
Stella on the other hand, had been poor and lazy. Her sole ambition to find someone that could give her a wonderful life and take care of her. How she'd thought she'd hit jackpot when he asked to take her for dinner. The romance had blossomed and within a year she was a banker’s fiancée, socialising with the women she'd often admired, those who lunched at exclusive hotels.
Nearly ten years later, Miles was still oblivious to the knowledge that Stella had spent the first couple of weeks prior to their date, stalking him.
Aged just twenty-two, Stella had first spotted him at a restaurant where she was on a date with a property lawyer. She had purposely suggested the upmarket, out of town venue, because her date looked more suited to an OAP day out, than her attractive young self. She hadn't minded; the lawyer drove a Bentley and paid for her every whim.
