“A single mum moving to Scotland and falling in love with a security guard.”
“Sounds good,” he says, shooting me a panty-melting grin.
“It is.” I smile shyly, then take a bite of my croissant.
“Almond. Good choice.”
“They’re my favourite,” I say around a mouthful, and he chuckles.
“I’m quite fond of them myself.”
I lower my pastry, threading my fingers together in my lap. “How’s your music going? Have you been playing many gigs?”
He shifts in his seat. “We have, actually. It’s been good. The Mayfair Lounge has been great. They’re hiring us weekly. It’s nice to build a solid following and bring people to a local venue. It’s a win-win.”
“I don’t blame them. You guys are great.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You have that audition, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, licking his bottom lip. “It’s not too far away now. We’re getting excited.”
“I bet. It’s a big deal.”
He nods and as we fall into silence, my mind can’t shake the last words he wrote me.
I didn’t want to leave.
With him sitting before me, all I can see are his strong hands moving over my body.
“I’m sorry if my last message made you feel uncomfortable,” he says, breaking the silence.
I straighten up. Uncomfortable?I’mthe one who should be embarrassed. I was a train wreck that night.
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all,” I assure him. “I feltsoembarrassed for the way I behaved that night. And I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what to say.”
“You really need to stop apologising, April.”
I’m about to reply when the waitress interrupts us. “Strong latte?” she asks sweetly, batting her long eyelashes at James.
“Thanks,” James says with a polite smile. She lowers his cup to the table, making a show of dipping lower than necessary to showcase her prominent cleavage. He doesn’t respond to her blatant flirtations, instead turning his attention back to me.
The waitress drops her arm and her smile falters, clearly frustrated by his lack of reaction. She quickly moves on, barely concealing her annoyance as she tends to other patrons.
He pushes his drink aside, leaning in. “So, how are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Yeah?”
I laugh. “Yes. I promise. I’ve been doing well.” And I have. Work’s been great, so no complaints there, as usual—I love what I do. Anna and Gemma have been amazing, and I’ve been seeing them regularly. I’ve even started my weekly morning walks again. I used to enjoy them every week, but I stopped after Lucas and I broke up. Slowly but surely, I’m starting to feel like myself again. I’ve been diving into ceramics more these days, particularly after work. Painting my pieces in a kaleidoscope of colours and rediscovering the joy of sculpting and creating. I can already see a noticeable improvement in my technique. I’m starting to wonder if I could consider selling them at markets. Throwing clay ties me to Mum in a way that offers me solace.
Seemingly accepting my answer, he smiles softly, his eyes tender. “I’m really glad to hear it.”
My face transforms as it hits me. “Wait, have you only been coming here because you’ve been worried about me?”
He fiddles with the handle of his mug. “I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
