Tom saw Ari staring at his brother and Stella.
“I’ve never, um, heard of an empathy allergy.”
“Oh, it’s the newest thing,” Stella explained. “I get headaches when I’m exposed to tannins, and strangely, as soon as Corentin and I moved in together, he started getting headaches too. A large coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Not really,” Tom muttered, and Ari give him a look.
“Okay, Stella, well—”
“See you in Iceland,” Stella cut in, kissing Ari on the cheek, which Corentin did likewise. Stella then turned to Tom, winking and giving him the finger guns.
“You can go home now, Jawline,” she told him. “Your familial duty is complete, and there are no more plates in here for you to break anyway. See you at the wedding.”
“Right, I—”
“See you, bro,” Corentin offered, and Tom gave a small wave, watching his brother disappear into the London night with Stella on his arm.
“Well,” Ari cleared her throat, looking at Tom awkwardly. “I, um, maybe I should—”
“I’d like a glass of red wine,” Tom interrupted her. “I’m not allergic to tannins.”
Ari smiled. “You want a glass of red wine? With me?”
Tom tried to fight back a blush. “Yeah. But not here. This place is creeping me out with all of the white walls, white floors and pale food.”
“I know a place across town,” Ari offered. “Shall we get a black cab?”
Tom nodded. “That’d be great.”
* * *
Ari took him to a small pub across the road from a large train station that Tom didn’t recognise. The pub was old and set by itself on a corner, like a slab of cake sharply cut at the sides, or a triangle of cheese taken cleanly from its wheel. The inside was cosy though, and he and Ari found a table in a nook by the bar, a small corner where they had a degree of intimacy.
“This is a Victorian pub,” Ari explained. “It’s one of my favourites. It was built on the site of an old Dominican friary. Catherine of Aragon fled here when Henry VIII was trying to divorce her.”
“Oh,” Tom replied, but no other words would come. Sitting here with Ari, their thighs just inches apart, in a cosy corner of a noisy bar, he was acutely reminded of their European travel days, and he was certain she felt likewise.
For a few moments they sat in silence, sipping at their red wines, when Tom decided to throw caution to the wind.
“I didn’t say earlier,” he began, “but you look beautiful tonight. Absolutely stunning.”
Ari blushed, her hand immediately going to the halter of her dress, adjusting it slightly.
“You, um,didsay it earlier,” she told him. “Not that you needed to.”
“Oh, but I did,” Tom argued. “You’re beautiful, and I should tell you all the time and—”
“No,” Ari smiled, putting her hand on his arm, as though to steady him. “I mean, you didn’t need to say it, because I knew you were thinking it. You turned the table upside down when I walked into the room.”
Now it was Tom’s turn to blush. “Oh, yeah. Right.”
“Did you pay the restaurant for the crockery?”
“Yeah.” Tom shrugged. “Who knew plain white plates could be so expensive?”
“Sorry.”
“No.” Tom turned to her, moving her hand from his arm so that it was nestled within his own palm. “No. Don’t ever apologise for being beautiful in my presence. Don’t apologise for that at all. It’s not your fault that I’m awkward around you when you look beautiful.”
