“Kate, I’m going to head out for some lunch. Do you want anything brought in?”
“No, I’m good, thanks. I brought my lunch from home.”
“No problem. I’ll see you in half an hour.”
I get up from my desk, grab my bag from the stand, and leave my office quickly. I put my head down and retrace my steps back to the rotunda doors. It’s as if someone is looking out for me because when I approach the doors, they’re just at the stage where I can walk in and walk straight out the other side.Bravo.
I rush down the street to get out of the vicinity of the hotel. I need some breathing space, and the quaint little Italian café on the corner of Sauchiehall Street is just what I need. I cross the street and walk straight into the busy café. People are coming and going, picking up lunch orders to go, and the wait staff look run off their feet. I look around to see if there are any empty tables and feel the disappointment when there are none. I turnaround to leave when a hand snakes out and grabs my wrist. I’m about to shout at whoever the hand is attached to until my eyes meet none other than Max. My heart sinks to the floor. Of course he’s here. Glasgow’s a big bloody city, yet he had to be in the one place I come to for lunch.
“Join me.” He points to the vacant seat opposite him at the idyllic table for two set up in front of the window. “We can sit in silence if you like.”
I’m warring with myself. I know I should go elsewhere, but I don’t have the time and I’m starving. I’ve been dreaming of this place all day. I can look out the window, I can answer my emails on my phone; I don’t have to pay Max any attention.
I relent. I pull out the seat and sit down. The buzz of the café is enough to drown out my racing heart. I pick up the menu although I know what I’m going to get–Penne Arrabiatta and a side of bruschetta. I should be the size of a house because I love pasta. I’d love to visit Italy one day and try all the delicacies.
The server puts down a glass and jug of water in front of us. He puts olives, breads, and oils in the middle of the table and rushes off speaking Italian. It’s only now that I look at Max and notice he’s watching my every move. “Have you turned into a stalker?”
He smiles crookedly at me and leans over, lifts a bit of bread, and dips it into the oil. I watch him like he was just watching me. How can one man make eating a bit of bread so sexy?
“Sorry about that. Can I take your order?” asks the waiter.
Max gestures for me to go first and I do just that. “Penne Arrabiatta and side of bruschetta, please.”
“And I’ll have lasagne, please, a side of chips.”
“Coming right up.” The waiter takes our menus to give us more room.
The atmosphere between us is palpable. I don’t know what to say for the best, so I stay quiet by sampling the appetisers. The bread just melts in my mouth. The juices of the olives explode over my tongue. It’s euphoric.
“I could watch you eat all day,” Max breaks the silence.
I teasingly suck my thumb into my mouth to wipe it clean of oil. I know what I’m doing, but I don’t care. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the gift of the gab? Do your lines work on all the women?”
Max sits up straight. I’ve hit him where it hurts, and I’m not sorry. “I don’t chat up women, Lex. In fact, you’re the first woman I’ve been with in about six months. I am not engaged. I do not cheat. Yes, I’ve had my fair share of sex, but contrary to what you believe, I’m not a womaniser. I liked you. No, I like you. I’m sorry you got mixed up with my past at the weekend, but that’s all I have to say sorry for. I’ve done nothing else wrong. I don’t tell lies.”
I sit back in my seat and try to remove the bitch who originally sat down at the table. I’m angry at Max for something he hasn’t done, but I’m heartbroken that what we had is over. That we’ll never get to pursue it again. We want different things out of life.
“So, you have no secret wives, no hidden children in closets.”
He shakes his head. “What you see is what you get.”
I sigh. “Let’s just eat lunch, be civil with one another, and get back to the grind. Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows about you.”
“I like to visit different countries, absorb the different cultures, bring a little piece of it home.”
It pains me every time I find out something about Max because we are compatible on so many levels that it’s hard to ignore what we could be like together, but it doesn’t alter the fact that he is just looking for a friend with benefits.
“I was just thinking when I sat down here that I’d love to visit Italy.”
He leans forward and rests his elbow on the table. “Lovely country. You must visit one day.”
The waiter returns with our food and my stomach growls, saliva pools in my mouth, and I moan with delight. “It smells delicious.”
“Enjoy your meal.”
The silence surrounds us as we tuck into our food. Everything tastes amazing. I’m glad I didn’t leave when there were no tables.
“Will you let me take you to dinner?” asks Max, looking very unsure of himself. He has lost that air of confidence that I love about him.
