‘No one who’s likely to chase us up the country and demand to know your intentions. My job doesn’t really lend itself to dating. “Sorry darling, I won’t be home in time for dinner, I’m assisting Dr Nakhil with an EC-IC bypass and I’m covered in bits of brain” doesn’t tend to go over very well.’
His face turned grim. ‘Really glad I didn’t order the haggis now.’
‘See?’ I pushed my plate away, no longer curious to know what it was made of. ‘Not exactly the most romantic of professions.’
‘Fine, tell me about something outside your job then. What’s going on in your life?’ Callum clarified, leaning forward, elbows on the table, his broad shoulders swelling under his shirt. ‘I ought to know something about your life if we’re going to pull this off.’
Cupping my hands around my stubby, stemless wine glass, I crossed my ankles under the table and tapped my toes inside my trainers.
‘Nothing to know,’ I told him. ‘I work, I sleep and, if I’m lucky, I eat. If my eyes are open and I’m not in the hospital, I’m either reading, watching reality TV or staring at a blank wall.’
But he wasn’t about to let me off that easily.
‘What kind of books? I’m a big reader myself.’
‘Anything, everything,’ I replied. ‘People leave all sorts in the hospital, we’ve got a very good library going. Fantasy, romance, thrillers, you name it, I’ve read it but please don’t ask me to name the last thing I read because I literally cannot tell you.’
‘If only we knew someone who understood how brains work who could explain such a phenomenon.’
‘It’s called the Yerkes-Dodson Law and it states that low arousal causes things not to be remembered in the first place and high arousal causes too much stress for them to be remembered, meaning we only retain things in circumstances of optimum arousal – and don’t you dare start giggling because I just said arousal three times.’
‘Four times,’ Callum said, fighting a smile. ‘And I’m sorry.’
‘As you should be,’ I sniffed, looking away so he couldn’t see the corners of my mouth quirking upwards. ‘You child.’
As the train raced along, Callum traced a finger around the rim of his glass, his broad shoulders moving with his breath, the blue, green and black checked pattern of his flannel shirt contrasting sharply against the aggressively bright lighting of the train carriage.
‘Shouldn’t we be worrying more about Caroline than me?’ I suggested. ‘All I know about her so far is she’s an introvert with a passport who is passionate aboutfurthering her professional education. Aside from nicking off to Paris to avoid your dad’s birthday, what else have you told your family about her?’
‘Nothing much.’ He looked up as though there might be a more detailed answer printed on the ceiling. ‘Nothing major that I can recall. Only that you’re not on social media and you don’t like having your picture taken.’
‘Ahh, an intellectual,’ I said with a sage nod. ‘Note to self, stay off TikTok.’
‘Other than that, just be yourself,’ Callum said. ‘I don’t want to make it difficult for you.’
‘Absolutely not!’ I exclaimed. ‘I’m going full method. The goal is to convince your parents they never want to see Caroline again and I am nothing if not goal-
orientated. I am going to be the most passive-aggressive, antisocial, self-absorbed weirdo they could ever hope to meet.’
‘Is that right?’
I nodded proudly. ‘Caroline is monstrous. No eye contact, new toilet installed before my arrival, all the brown M&Ms removed from the bowl and twenty white kittens in the dressing room monstrous.’
Leaning back against his seat, Callum grinned. ‘You’re making me wonder what I see in her.’
‘She’s amazing in bed.’
My eyes popped open wide as I heard the words that had fallen out my mouth.
‘Pretend I didn’t say that,’ I told him, my heart soaring when I saw our server coming out of the kitchen with dessert. Sugar. I needed sugar. And no more wine. ‘Moving on, what do I need to know about wannabe pastry chef, Clapham resident and haggis connoisseur Callum McClay?’
‘He’s amazing in bed as well.’
The laugh that snorted out of me echoed around the carriage, attracting every pair of eyes within hearing distance. But more importantly, it drew a smile from Callum so big, I could see every single one of his straight, white teeth.
‘Sticky toffee pudding,’ the server said, sliding a plate down in front of me as I smothered my laughter with my napkin. ‘And a cheese plate. Anything else I can get you?’
‘More wine,’ Callum answered immediately. ‘Please. For the love of God.’
