Chapter Four
There is a chill bite to the air as Lissa walks down the cobbled street, tall sandstone buildings stretching above her into the pink hues of the sky. A sign that it won’t be all that long before winter coats are dusted off, hats found from whatever corner of the drawer they’ve been lost in.
‘So,’ Mia says down the phone line, ‘this is the Mark you’ve been refusing to go out with for a solid eight months, is that right?’
Lissa glances up the street, checking that Mark isn’t immediately behind her, before switching her phone into her other hand. ‘Correct. I decided it might be good for me.’ Well, technically Darcy decided, but she went along with it, and that’s basically the same thing, right? She put it off for a few days, then decided that going for a drink with him couldn’t be any worse than the slightly awkward not-quite-flirting dance they’ve been doing in the office. She opted for a Friday, given they’re all allowed to work from home, meaning she wouldn’t have to endure the small talk en route from the office to the pub.
‘I agree,’ Mia says. Lissa can hear the sounds of the train in the background, a robotic voice announcing the stops. Although she lives in Bristol, Mia has to go to London twice a week, and Lissa knows she hates it, especially when one of those days falls on a Friday.
‘What about you?’ Lissa asks as she gets closer to the pub. ‘How are things going with that American girl?’
‘Oh, you know,’ Mia says vaguely. ‘We send the occasional GIF, but it’s kind of hard given neither of us has any imminent plans to cross the Atlantic.’ Mia recently had a holiday fling with a woman she met while visiting her parents, who have lived in Denver for the past ten years.
There’s a beat of quiet, then she says, ‘Have you spoken to your mum since …?’
‘No,’ Lissa says, then winces at how hard her voice sounds. ‘Actually, though, that reminds me. Are we still on for Sunday after next?’
‘Of course. You know me, I love my roasts with extra gravy andjusta side of tension.’
Lissa’s lips twitch. ‘Good.’ It’s become a tradition – the first Sunday of every month, Mia and Lissa go to Lissa’s mum’s for a roast, cooking it themselves, often drinking far too much red wine. Her mum either gets involved or sits in the corner, depending on what mood she’s in, but it helps Lissa to feel less guilty – and Mia, she knows, does it for her.
‘I have to go,’ Lissa says, coming to a stop outside the pub. There are a few people spilling out of the front onto the street, the door propped open so that laughter and chatter swells in the air.
‘Lover boy in sight?’ Mia asks.
‘Sure, something like that. Hope the rest of the journey isn’t hell.’
‘I’m just looking forward to a pasty from the train station. Have fun tonight – don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Well, apart from the whole sleeping-with-men thing.’
Lissa laughs. ‘Bye, Mia.’
She pushes her way into the pub, inhaling a good lungful of hops. There’s no immediate sign of Mark, and she bites her lip, checking her phone.
We’re out in the garden when you get here x
She frowns down at it. We? What does he mean, we?
Shit, did she read this wrong? Is this not a date? She’s not an idiot, right? This was arranged following staying over at his – a drink in a pub, possibly dinner. That all definitely signals date. Maybe it’s a typo. Then again, is it the worst thing in the world if it’snota date? Maybe that’s better. Maybe he’s with Darcy. Though she dismisses that idea at once – Darcy would have told her.
She works her way through the crowd, heading towards the beer garden. It’s packed, everyone trying to make the most of the last light and if not warm then at least not freezing evenings. The smell of smoke replaces the hops as she steps outside, and she glances around the picnic benches under umbrellas with outdoor heaters. She spots Mark in the far corner, facing her, his fair hair glowing a little orange in the light of the heater. He’s in a blue coat, hands in his pockets, leaning across the table and laughing. Laughing because he’s very much not alone.
He’s talking to a man with his back to her, dark hair the only thing she can see. And okay, maybe she shouldn’t assume this based on the back of his head, but she’s sure she doesn’t know him – he’s certainly not anyone from work.
She hesitates, hovering outside the door. He told her to meet him here, but has he changed his mind about a date with her and is too polite to bail? Maybe it was never supposed to be a date – had he always said it would be a group thing and she just missed that? Wasshesupposed to bring a friend, too? And if it’s not a date, then she’s dressed wrong. Although, actually, maybe she’s fine. Black jeans and a nice top – that doesn’t necessarily mean date, does it? God, she’s so out of practice at this.
She’s still standing there like a bloody lemon when Mark does a quick scan of the garden, spots her, and smiles with those very straight teeth. He immediately beckons her over. Well, okay then.
She fixes a smile to her own face as she heads towards him, squeezing by a crowded bench and coming to a stop at his table. He immediately scooches over for her and she takes a seat next to him, opposite mystery man.
Only as he turns his blue gaze on her, smiling politely over his pint of beer, she feels a jolt of recognition. She knows this man from somewhere, she’s sure of it. Where?Think, Lissa!She sees his eyebrows pull together as he sweeps his gaze over her face, clearly trying to place her, too.
Then it clicks. She feels a rush of heat flooding her cheeks as she opens her mouth to speak, but he beats her to it.
‘You,’ he says, setting his beer down. She bites her lip as Mark raises his eyebrows.
‘You guys know each other?’ he asks.
‘Know is a bit of a stretch,’ not-so-mystery-man says mildly. A corner of his mouth pulls up into half a crooked smile as those blue eyes find hers again. ‘A shared near-death experience is a little closer.’
