The waiter approached, and I ordered a bowl of wings, sweet potato fries and a salad. He ordered the wine. When it arrived and the waiter poured two glasses, I tasted the wine and looked at him, impressed.
‘How did you learn about wines?’
‘My first girlfriend.’ He swirled the glass and sipped the wine. ‘I was eighteen. She was thirty-eight and a sommelier. Her name was Louise Carlow. She gave me an education in more than wine. We were in a relationship for a year or so, casually. As soon as I got custody of Oliver and Evelyn, that was that. I didn’t have time for a girlfriend.’ He said this softly with a shrug.
‘Evelyn said that Ollie was acting out in the foster home.’
‘He got into strife with a credit-card-fraud scheme. He also stole a car.’
‘Was he charged?’
‘No. I managed to sort out what everyone needed.’
‘You paid them off?’
‘Yes.’
‘Wait, Louise Carlow?She works for you.’ I was slightly shrill, I’ll own it. I’d spoken to the woman on the phone. Also, it was kind of pervy, her preying on a young boy. A loaded young boy.
‘Yes, she is in her sixties now and our head wine buyer. We are still good friends.’
I was a little bothered by that, but I attempted not to let it show. Jealousy seemed a weak sort of thing. I wondered if it weren’t for Jack Fife would we even be here … I was grateful when our food arrived, and I tucked in heartily, but his words came back to me about being honest and I put down a wing to ask a question.
‘You like control. You were very bothered by Jack Fife. If he had not been an arse, what was your plan for this weekend?’
‘Abbey, I … adore you. Worship you. I do … I guess, I feel compromised … emotionally. By you.’ He put down his chicken and closed his eyes. ‘I don’t mean to control. But this feels constantly out of control and where things are out of my control … it stresses me out.’
‘Having feelings for someone is not an emotional compromise. You feel out of control with me?’
‘Yes.’
That’s because you are in love with me, idiot.
I watched him demolish a wing, absorbed by his mouth, licking the sauce from his fingers.
‘You promised me answers, Nick,’ I reminded him. I wasn’t letting him get away with avoiding truths. ‘You wanted me here for the weekend. What was the plan?’
‘I know, I know … Christ.’ He bit his bottom lip. ‘I didn’t really have a plan. I could feel you trying to put space between us this week after dinner on Monday, and that was hard. I didn’t like it. I thought, after our meeting, I would spend time with you. I do feel it,’ he conceded, quietly, ‘the connection between us. I haven’t been able to put boundaries in place either … with you. I’m sorry. My plan was just to have you to myself for the weekend. I wanted that. I want you. I wanted to spend time with you.’
‘You want me? But you don’t want a relationship? Or to be in love with me?’
‘Abbey, I cannot have other people hold my heart. My family I have no choice with, but other than that? No.’
‘I would cherish it … if we are being honest. I would hold your heart and protect it for as long as I could.’
His jaw tightened, and he reached for my hand. The long look we gave each other was interrupted by the waiter coming to check on how our lunch was.
Nick watched me demolish the remainder of the wings and fries, and I washed it down with the last of the wine.
‘Honestly, watching you eat everything on your plate is the strangest thing I think I’ve ever been attracted to. I cannot say I have ever, ever noticed a woman eat before.’
I shrugged at that. ‘It never occurred to me to try to impress you, in any way at all. I am who I am.’
‘I know.’
‘Where to next?’ I asked.
‘Art gallery?’
