Love & London: The love story 2021 needs. Heartbreakingly beautiful and hilariously funny!

by Ellie White

  He asks me about Philip, too. I suppose Laura told him about that and I tell him the condensed version of what happened, leaving out all the tragic details and the years that have led me here. Talking about being a widow isn't really first date material. But, what I do tell him, he intently listens to, taking it all in. When I talk so fondly about Philip, there's no sign of jealousy at all. He just wants to know more about the kind of person he was and even asks about the kind of relationship we had.

  The whole evening, he was such a gentleman, pulling out my chair and opening doors. He even insisted on walking me home so he knew I was safe, even though he lives half an hour in the other direction.

  If I had a checklist, he would tick every box.

  Great looking? Check.

  Good with kids? Check.

  Great job that he loves and plenty of ambition? Check.

  Great listener, kind, considerate? Check, check and check.

  I'm glad I gave him a second chance because, if I didn’t, I wouldn't be having such a lovely time with Sam. The whole situation still begs the question: Would I be having a lovely time with Jake if I didn't answer my phone that night?

  "So, this is me," I say as we reach my front door.

  "I've had a really nice night," he says, nervously looking at his shoes. "I know it's not the done thing and I'm sure there’s a rule on waiting so many days but… do you think I can ask you on a second date?"

  "I would love that," I say, my grin matching his.

  "We'll, I'm off all week with this," he says, indicating to the sling. "How about I meet you for lunch near your office one day?"

  "That sounds great. I will check my meetings and text you tomorrow?" I ask before quickly adding, "Unless there’s a rule against that, too?"

  Is there a rule? Does it make me look desperate? I should have really Googled the rules of dating.

  "Text me tomorrow," he says, smiling as he pulls me in with his good arm to place a soft kiss on my cheek, pausing for a second before kissing me on the mouth.

  It's a sweet kiss, soft and delicate. Romantic.

  Was it as earth shattering as my almost kiss with Jake? No, but it was pleasant.

  I have got to stop comparing the two.

  "You should get inside, it’s cold," he says once he’s pulled away.

  "Goodnight, Sam. Thank you, again, for dinner tonight. I had a great time," I say, unable to suppress the smile on my face as I turn away.

  I turn and wave as I shut the door but something catches my attention: A black car with tinted windows I hadn't noticed before, sat directly across the road before speeding off down the street. A car that looked a lot like Jake's car. I pull out my phone and dial his number but he doesn't answer which leaves me with even more questions about his behaviour than I already had.

  I thought he was out on a date. Does she live close by, is that why he was here? Or was he checking up on me?

  I send him a quick text, asking him to call me but I don't expect him to. If he was on a date, he's probably busy.

  I let myself into my flat and my phone dings. I was expecting to see Jake's name when I heard the notification but, instead, it's a message from Sam which lifts my spirits again.

  Sam: Thanks for giving me a second chance tonight, it was great. Sleep well. X

  Sam is a great man and a great catch; I should feel lucky he asked me out on a second date. Whether it was him or not, Jake Mills is not going to ruin this moment for me so I put him to the back of my mind once again. I call Laura (as instructed) to tell her about my fantastic first date with Sam.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It's been almost 2 weeks since Sam and I went on our first date and we've spoken every day. I really like him. Sam is kind and sweet, he's attractive and a great kisser. On paper, he's everything. In reality, I’m not entirely sure.

  I can't shake the feeling that something is missing. At first, I put it down to the ridiculous crush I’d developed on Jake and the fact this whole dating thing is weird for me anyway but, as time goes on, I still find myself looking for more from Sam (which is ridiculous since we've only been on a handful of dates). As my new relationship with Sam slowly grows, my relationship with Jake quickly deteriorates.

  The lunch he promised me has been postponed, indefinitely, as he suddenly had an urgent errand to run and says it would be quicker doing it himself than if I went along with him. He no longer answers my phone calls outside of working hours, he doesn't reply to my texts and getting a personal conversation out of him is like getting blood from a stone. The deal I made to spend time with him once a week is apparently void as he didn't even show up to The George last Friday.

  James thinks I need to back off and give him the space he's asked for but I really don't know how to give him more space than I already have.

  When we're in the office together, it's like nothing has happened and we've worked hard together to finish our pitch early but that's it. Now, we're back to our own projects and I keep trying to find excuses to talk to him that don't involve me screaming in his face, demanding to know what the hell is going through his mind. I probably would have done so already if it was ever just the two of us but he has reverted to his old ways. He comes in to work late and leaves early, leaving me behind to do the boring jobs that he doesn't want to do, like signing off on payroll or approving our monthly budgets.

  So, yeah, I'm madder at him than ever before and I can’t do anything about it because, apparently, he needs his ‘space’.

  I'm surprised to see him sat with James and Helen at our usual table when I arrive at the pub tonight. Sam has gone back to work this week and won't finish his filming until later tonight so we’ve planned a late dinner, giving him chance to go home and change. Since he said he would meet me here, it'll be the first time he meets my friends and to say I'm anxious is an understatement. We've been dating less than two weeks, a part of me is screaming that this is going too fast but another part is saying, ‘just go for it’.

  "Tonight, is your what... fifth date? In 2 weeks?" Harry asks.

  "Yeah, he's met me for lunch a few times, too, but don't really count them as dates."

  "You know what that means, right?" Simon chips in.

  I just stare blankly, clearly not in on this secret. I never did Google the rules of dating.

  "Sex," they say together.

  "She doesn't have to have sex with him - they've just met! She doesn't even know him," Jake protests as everyone turns their heads to look at him with raised eyebrows. It's the first time he's even looked my way since I got here an hour ago, let alone spoken to me.

  "That's rich, coming from you," I say, defensively. I’m just saying what everyone else was thinking.

  The atmosphere shifts and I can tell people are already starting to feel uncomfortable with the tension building between us. I can feel it chipping away at the little resolve I have left and I'm close to breaking point.

  "Yeah, well... I'm just saying. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

  "Who said I don't want to? How would you even know?"

  "Do you want to?" he snaps back.

  "It's none of your business. You are literally the last person who can judge me based on my sex life, Jake."

  "But it's okay for you to barely speak to me for eight years based on mine?" he bites back.

  "You pushed me away first; that's on you. And how can you say that when you've barely spoken to me these past two weeks?"

  "Yeah, well, this is going to be a long seven years and 50 weeks for you."

  No-one at the table dares speak a word as Jake and I stare each other down, seething at each other so I'm relieved when my brother breaks the silence.

  "Well, I don't want to be part of this conversation so I'm going to the bar and you're coming with me. When you both calm down, you can talk it through like adults because the way you're behaving currently is far from acting your age," James says, pulling Jake from his seat and dragging him towards the bar where they seem to ha
ve a heated conversation.

  "I'm coming," Laura shouts after them, making her way over to join their conversation.

  I huff as I return my attention to Simon and Harry.

  "Do you have matching lingerie on?" Harry says as though that argument didn't happen.

  "Yes." That makes a change.

  "And condoms? Any self-respecting person is always prepared. Do you have any questions?" Simon queries.

  "I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing. Sex is sex. Things can't have changed that much... Right?"

  "The basics are the same but you're a little out of practice, hun. I'm sure it'll be fine," Harry says, waving it off.

  "The key is having open dialogue. Don't be afraid to let him know when you like something or don't like something," Simon adds, making me think I should be writing notes.

  "I'm sure I'll be fine. Anyway, I doubt sex is on the cards. He is still in a lot of pain with his collarbone, after all," I say as I spot Sam walk through the door so I wave to get his attention. "He's here. Please make him feel welcome," I beg as James, Jake and Laura finally join our table again. I aim my remarks directly at Jake because you never know what side of him you're going to get, lately.

  It's awkward when Sam greets me with a kiss on the mouth and a wide smile before I introduce him to everyone but I put that down to my nerves and the anger that is still floating around inside of me. Jake is still tense from our argument, his jaw set in a straight line, but he shakes Sam's hand, none the less, maybe squeezing a little bit too hard. Sam places his arm back around my waist, pulling me in to his side as he makes small talk with my friends. Jake doesn't say anything when he leaves the table and disappears to the back of the pub.

  Guess I'll sort things out with him later, then.

  James looks at me apologetically: He knows more than he is letting on. I want to ask him about it but it's not a conversation I want to have with Sam around.

  As soon as it's socially acceptable, Sam and I excuse ourselves and head out for dinner.

  "Are you okay?" Sam asks as we walk to the tube station.

  "I'm fine. Jake and I just had a little disagreement before you arrived," I say, putting it mildly.

  "Well, I'll try my best to distract you," he says, stopping to kiss me in the street. I smile but it's forced, not that I let Sam know that.

  "Let's just eat and enjoy our night."

  ***

  After dinner, we take a moonlit walk across Westminster Bridge. Tourists are still out taking pictures, busses full of people going anywhere and everywhere. It would be romantic if I could focus for longer than five seconds. Instead, I can't get Jake out of my head. Conversation with Sam doesn't flow as easily tonight as it has done previously which is completely my fault.

  I compare him to how it used to be with Jake before we fell out again. Sam doesn't make me laugh as much as Jake does. I don't feel as comfortable with him as I do with Jake. He doesn't make my heart race like Jake does: Even when we’re arguing, I still have those butterflies. As we reach the tube station, my stomach is tied in knots because I know I have got to end things with Sam before they get too far. My mind is swirling as I think about it and I have no idea how to do this.

  "So, did you want to come back to my place? It's only three stops away on the Piccadilly line," Sam says, winding his arm around my waist and kissing me again but it doesn't make me feel anything. It's pleasant, yes, but there's no deeper connection and I don't think there ever was.

  "I'm sorry. I think I'm just going to go home. I've really enjoyed spending time with you but there's just something missing, something that I can’t give you,” I say honestly. “You’re a lovely man, Sam, you’ll make someone incredibly happy. I really hope you find what you're looking for, I'm just sorry I'm not it."

  He looks at me intently and I can see that he understands.

  "Thank you for being honest. I hope you work things out with your partner, too. I can see how much it's upset you," he says, giving me a platonic kiss on the cheek and walking down to his platform.

  I slowly make my way to my own platform, in no rush to go home alone.

  He's right about Jake. I know he will still be at The George. He doesn't usually leave until last orders with the rest of us so I decide I need to face him, once and for all.

  We're sorting this out tonight, whether he likes it or not.

  ***

  The entire journey back, I think about what I'll say but all that goes out of the window when Jake is the first person I see as I enter the busy pub. As soon as he meets my eye, I'm seething, the anger and rage I have suppressed for two weeks bubbling to the surface like it did before. This time, I know I won't be able to stop myself.

  I ignore the greetings and the confusion from my friends who weren't expecting to see me again tonight and I square up to Jake who stands at the edge of the table. I doubt I'm as threatening to him as I think I am, especially since he is at least a foot taller than me.

  "Why the hell did you have to get in my head?" I snap at him as soon as I reach the table, shocking him. "Sam is a great man. He has a fantastic job; he is passionate and generous. He has goals and aspirations and a life plan."

  "Then why aren't you in his bed? Wasn't that the idea?" he says, taking a step towards me.

  His piercing eyes meet mine, sending shock waves throughout my entire body. This feeling between us, right now, is what I was missing with Sam. Chemistry, physical attraction, fireworks.

  "‘She doesn't have to have sex with him, she doesn't even know him’," I say in a terrible impression of him. It doesn't help that I'm slightly out of breath from all the rage. "You got in my head; you know you did. You did it on purpose. He was gorgeous and perfect-"

  "If he's so perfect, Maggs, where is he?"

  "I liked him!" I say, losing my temper once more. "I liked him a lot but all I've been able to think about throughout my entire date was that something was wrong and I couldn't work out what it was. I spent most of the night trying to justify what you said. In the end, the only thing I could see clearly was you. I tried to put you out of my mind and remember how I usually feel with Sam but, instead, all I could think about was how you make me feel!"

  I don't dare look at anyone other than Jake; they all heard my confession.

  Shit.

  "Made. I meant how you made me feel... Earlier... When you told me not to have sex with him," I say as I awkwardly try to backtrack and catch my breath again.

  Silence.

  We both stand, staring at each other. Neither of us dare speak.

  Our friends are looking between us like they're watching Wimbledon. Even some of the neighbouring tables are watching, waiting for one of us to speak, for one of us to address what I said.

  He just looks at me, his mouth slightly open in shock.

  "Is that what you meant, Maggs? Or did you mean it the first way?" he asks, his face no longer confrontational. Now, he just looks confused and maybe a little hopeful.

  "Get out of my head," I shout, panicking and practically running for the door, not really knowing where else to go with this conversation. My heart threatens to jump out of my throat as I storm out, doing my best not to turn around when he eventually shouts my name in his gorgeously rough voice.

  I hate how much I want him right now. I hate how I didn't kiss him when I had the chance. I hate how I can't bring myself to tell him how I really feel about him.

  He catches up to me before I reach the street, grabbing my hand before I reach the ivy archway in the entrance, the fairy light-covered pergola twinkling above us like stars. It starts to rain. This could be a really romantic movie moment if it weren’t freezing and I wasn't getting soaked to the bone. If this were a movie, he would spin me to face him, bury his hand in my hair and tell me that he loves me. We'd share a passionate kiss in the rain, complete with tears of joy and then the credits would roll. We'd live happily ever after.

  This isn't a movie. This is real life and the reality is that rainwater is goi
ng in my eyes and my mascara must be running, my clothes are already saturated from the sudden downpour and are now sticking to me. I don't even want to imagine what state my hair is in. Far from sexy, that’s for sure.

  He turns me around to face him as I let out a long breath but he's still holding my hand out at arm’s length.

  "Please, Maggs. I'm sorry I said that. I wasn't judging you. I know I'm a hypocrite but I just wanted you to be sure before you jumped into bed with someone you barely know."

  He pushes his soaking wet hair away from his face and wipes the water from his forehead with his sleeve. Why does he have to look so handsome when I probably look like a drowned rat?

  "It's not like I'm a virgin. You don't need to defend my honour." I hear people snickering from the smoking shelter. Very mature.

  "That's not what I'm doing."

  "I'm not a delicate, little flower that you need to protect."

  "Believe me, I know. I've spent the last 8 years stuck on the end of your stinger," he says, trying to make me smile with one of his charming grins as he steps closer to me. Our bodies are now mere inches apart and he's still holding my hand.

  "I'm going home, Jake. You should go back inside. I'll see you Monday," I say, my voice sounding small. I don't move to leave; I don't think I'm able to step away from his warmth that I still crave.

  "What about our plans tomorrow?" he asks, looking hurt.

  "We have no plans, Jake. If this conversation had never happened, you would have cancelled them anyway. Right now, I can barely call you a friend which kills me because I had become so dependent on your friendship. Maybe that was our problem all along."

  "Maggs, it’s got nothing to do with that. I'm sorry. Tell me how to make it better, give me a chance to make it up to you," he pleads with me. He tenderly pushes my wet hair from my face with his free hand, his warm fingers leaving a heat trail as I lean into his touch, wanting to be closer but knowing that I shouldn't. His other hand still clings to mine as though he doesn't want us to separate any more than I do. "I'm sorry for the way I've acted these two weeks, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't want to hurt you. Please, believe me."