I shoved a forkful of risotto into my mouth as a delaying tactic, and watched him studying me, waiting for me to say something. Finally, I swallowed.
‘He’s not around. He never really has been,’ I said.
‘That’s a shame,’ Oliver said.
I shook my head. ‘It’s fine. It was just a one-night thing, I didn’t need him to stick around. Flynn’s never known him.’
I knew I sounded cold, but it was the only way I could get through the lie without it sticking in my throat.
‘That must be hard though. Does Flynn ever ask about him?’
‘Not really. I’m sure he will one day, but he hasn’t so far.’
Oliver took a sip of wine and studied me thoughtfully. ‘I still haven’t worked out what to tell Annabelle when she starts really asking questions about her mum,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell her she didn’t want to know her, but I can’t lie either.’
I flinch. Is he telling me he knows I’m lying?
Of course he’s not. Why would he?
‘If only they’d stay little forever and never ask us any awkward questions,’ I said, smiling.
‘That would be ideal, wouldn’t it?’
We ate our dinner for a while, the hum of the restaurant around us our only soundtrack. Oliver was good company, andeven the quiet times when we weren’t talking felt comfortable, unforced. It was a relief, to be with someone who didn’t ask constant questions, or who knew too much about you. I felt I could reinvent my history, in a way. Or at least not let it define me.
The rest of the meal was lovely, and by the end of the night the attraction I’d felt towards Oliver had started to become something more. I didn’t want to try to name it or over-analyse it. For now, I was happy to see where this went.
So when he asked me if I fancied going out again, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
‘You know, Annabelle was really excited about me coming out with you tonight,’ he said, as we walked home through the dark streets towards my house. I knew he lived in the other direction, but I secretly liked the fact that he’d decided to walk me home.
‘Flynn was too,’ I said. ‘I think he hopes it will mean Annabelle will be his sister.’
The words were out before I realised how they sounded and I was glad it was dark so Oliver couldn’t see my face flaming. But then his fingers brushed against mine and I didn’t move mine away. The next thing I knew they were entwined, and it felt as though the blood had rushed to all the nerve endings in my hand.
‘At least we have the kids’ approval,’ he said, and I was grateful he’d made it easy for me.
Too soon, we were at my front door.
‘This is me,’ I said, stopping just before it.
He looked up at the windows. ‘Have you always lived here?’
‘For a few years,’ I said. ‘I can’t really afford it but it’s Flynn’s home so I make it work.’
‘Ah yes, been there, done that.’ He glanced at the windows. ‘It looks lovely.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. I felt suddenly nervous, acutely aware that Oliver’s hand was still holding mine and that there were only a few inches between us. Part of me wanted to keep the conversation going, to put off the awkward moment when we said goodbye. But the other part of me was screaming out for him to kiss me, and it surprised me. I hadn’t expected to want to kiss anyone until I knew for certain that I was never going to see Nick again.
Oliver was looking at me, his face in shadow. I met his gaze and he moved towards me. Then his lips were on mine and I responded. My hand went to his chest, the other one was still in his hand and I felt like I was floating above my own body.
I was kissing Oliver!
I was kissing the hot dad from school!
When he pulled away, he smiled at me. ‘Well, that was nice,’ he said.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Nice?’
