‘Got any fizzy wine for the lady?’ Oliver asked, looking amused.
‘Only Bollinger,’ Tony replied, not missing a beat.
‘Bollinger it is then,’ Oliver answered.
‘I’ll be right back. Oh, the specials are on the blackboard but we’re all out of the arrabbiata.’ Tony left the table and headed towards the bar area.
Hayley let out a laugh, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What is it?’
‘I had no idea you were going to bring me somewhere so… so normal.’
She watched Oliver shift in his seat and knew instinctively she’d said the wrong thing. She followed it up quickly. ‘I didn’t mean that how it came out. This place, it’s lovely.’ She looked at the other booths behind them, the round tables covered in gingham cloths, the wine bottle candles shimmering. ‘I just thought?—’
He interrupted. ‘I’d take you to a soulless restaurant on a rooftop somewhere and we’d pick over heirloom tomatoes and mackerel escabeche?’
She nodded. ‘And that was me putting my foot in it.’
He pulled in a long breath. ‘I could have taken you somewhere like that. That’s what I would usually have done but…’
Her heart was racing. The velvet texture of his tone was settling on her like a layer of snow, but warm, welcome.
‘I’ve not brought anyone here before.’ He swallowed. ‘This place is…’ He reached his hand across the table and picked a breadstick from the glass in the centre. He broke it in two. Hayley could sense his hesitation. For whatever reason, he was finding this difficult.
‘My mom and dad, me and Ben, we used to come here everyFriday night without fail. It was one of the only times business was switched off and we talked about other stuff that was going on.’
Hayley leant her elbows on the table and inched herself closer. ‘Like what? School?’ She smiled harder. ‘Glee club?’
Oliver smiled. ‘No one in our family was in Glee club.’ He broke the breadstick again, pieces landing on the small plate to his right.
‘So what did a young Oliver Drummond do at school? Don’t tell me… you were president of the debating society?’ She could see him doing that. Commanding other students, leading a healthy argument about the state of the world.
He shook his head. ‘No, that was my brother.’ A sigh left him. ‘I was on the football team.’
‘A jock.’ Hayley couldn’t help the surprise touching her reply. ‘And I suppose we’re talking a funny-shaped ball rather than the kind David Beckham uses.’
He nodded, pushed a piece of breadstick into his mouth. That gave her every reason to focus on those gorgeous lips that looked just as good no matter what expression they were wearing.
‘So,’ she recovered. ‘When did you stop with the ball games and start with the hard drives?’
She watched a wistful expression appear in his hazel eyes. It seemed like his thoughts were flying far away from the Romario’s restaurant. She waited, hoping he was going to say something.
‘When I ripped apart my shoulder and couldn’t make it as a professional.’
That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting.
‘Here we are, Bollinger, a 2004 vintage. Does that meet with sir’s approval?’ Tony asked, appearing at the table, red-faced, a bottle opener between his teeth.
‘Just get it open, Tony,’ Oliver answered.
40
RESTAURANT ROMARIO, GREENWICH VILLAGE
‘It was always Ben’s dream to work for the family business. I was the one who always went against the grain,’ Oliver said as they shared a plate of olives, sardines drizzled with lemon, fresh bread and a garlic butter.
‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting your own path,’ Hayley said, trying to delicately skewer an olive. ‘I wasn’t going to be a housewife like my mother or a bricklayer like my dad and I wasn’t ever as clever as Dean.’ She scoffed. ‘I definitely proved that by getting pregnant young and ruining all my plans.’
