The taxi pulled up outside Simone’s, London subdued at this hour. I’d brought a bag with me so I didn’t need to head home to change and I officially had a toothbrush there now.
“I’m open to that idea.”
She smiled as she opened the car door. “As long as you cook breakfast.”
“What do I get in return?”
“I’ll give you something else to eat.”
I laughed and paid the driver who had pretended not to hear. She’d started to become more assertive with what she wanted outside of the kitchen and I liked it. I wanted that confidence and assurance to be everywhere, not just in the thing she’d clung to.
We’d spent the last hour or so at Toad Hall being subtle. I’d had my hand on the small of her back, had given her brief side hugs and she’d grasped my bicep at least five times, but then so had Sophie. Throughout the day, we’d danced around each other, sometimes she’d walked towards me to touch me and then remembered and it had almost killed me.
Now we were alone and those barriers didn’t have to be there. It was up to us, with no audience, no reason to keep our hands to ourselves.
“I think tonight was a success.” I whispered into her ear as she fumbled in her oversized bag for her keys, like she always did.
“I knew the Callaghans would love everything, but the feedback from the people I didn’t know was good too. We’ve had a bunch of bookings and a few have asked to go on the list for the opening night.” She found her key. “You did good.”
I kissed the side of her neck. “We did. Team effort.”
“The menu was pretty much yours.”
“Are we playing a game of let’s stroke each other’s ego? Because if we are, there’s something else I’d rather you stroke.”
She giggled and the door opened, the alarm detecting our entry.
“I’ll turn it off. Do you want to go straight to bed?”
Simone shook her head. “I’m too wired. Glad we’re not working tomorrow and I can’t believe I said that. I don’t think I’ve ever had a planned day off.”
I deactivated the alarm and reset it into night mode. The whole system came with a user manual that was the same size as James Joyce’s Ulysses, but Killian’s Cliff Notes had been easy enough.
“Maybe my influence has been good.”
She paused at the doorway to the lounge, looking at me. “Maybe you have. Any word from your brother?”
“I heard he’s in Manchester. Makes sense. Apparently something’s gone down there with someone he served with.”
“You don’t need to check up there?”
She looked beautiful, standing there, heels in one hand, her hair mussed, eyes bright and asking about me, my brother. “I wouldn’t know where to start. And he wouldn’t thank me for it. I’ve tried before.”
“Okay. I’d come with you if you wanted, but I get why you don’t. I do get it. And I know it’s hard.”
“Let’s not talk about this now. Let’s think about how good tonight was. Drink?”
“Whisky?”
“Always.”
“I’m going to get changed. See you in five.” I needed to shower quickly too, still feeling the heat from the kitchen on my skin.
“I’ll see you in the lounge.”
* * *
Simone was flickingthrough a magazine when I returned, a gossip one. It was her new guilty pleasure, reading about z-list celebrities and looking at photos from gaudy weddings, all since Leif Rosso had been in Mount Street. It was Lauren’s thing too, although she didn’t feel guilty about it.
