Prologue
If anyone could still look masculine in baby pink, it was Daniel. The fleece dressing gown, several sizes too small, emphasised his broad shoulders and revealed a subtly muscled chest dusted with a tantalising ‘V’ of dark blond hair.
His sheepish smile revealed a chipped tooth, which never failed to disarm me.
‘Morning.’ The tentative word had a tinge of huskiness as he stepped out of the bathroom.
All my hormones leapt to attention, the miserable traitors.
‘Hi,’ I squeaked back, with all the allure of Minnie Mouse, blushing like an overripe tomato. Why couldn’t I be cool, calm and sophisticated about this morning-after stuff? He’d stayed over. For the first time. Perfectly normal. People got off with each other at parties. Came back. Spent the night. No biggie.
Should I offer him breakfast? Coffee? No, he didn’t drink coffee. ‘Do you want a cup of tea, I was just...’ I nodded towards the kitchen, keeping my eyes fixed on his, wishing I’d shaved my legs before last night’s party instead of being a lazy trollop.
‘Thanks, Olivia, that’d be great,’ he said with far more enthusiasm than a bog-standard cup of tea warranted. I’d hoped he’d retire to the lounge while I made it, but no, he had to trail down the corridor behind me.
Doing my best not to look his way, I busied myself filling the kettle, getting teabags and mugs out, straightening tea towels and wiping counter tops that didn’t need wiping. Even so, I could see that the belt on the dressing gown had loosened and even more of his chest was exposed. The inside of my mouth felt as though every drop of moisture had been sucked out.
Automatically I spooned two sugars into his tea and stirred, then stopped. The intimacy of the moment glowed between us as I handed him the mug. His fingers brushed mine, and athis touch a spark of electricity raced up my arm and a punch of longing hit me. I ducked my head, looking at the ingrained dirt in the lino that hadn’t yet been replaced. Friends. We were friends. I could do this. He didn’t need to know.
‘Thanks Olivia...’ his voice trailed off, as if derailed by a sudden awareness of the situation. ‘Maybe I ought to, er...’ He looked over my shoulder back down the corridor toward my flatmate’s bedroom ‘... see if Emily would like one.’
There, he’d said it. Said her name. My current lodger, Emily. My stomach doubled over as if a demolition ball had slammed into it. It might as well have done.
* * *
Giggles were coming from the room next door, still audible above Radio 2’s bloody Sunday bloody Love Songs. Probably not the best choice that morning, especially not when he had to go and play the world’s most weepy ballad, Nilsson’sWithout You. What the hell had gone wrong last night? My hormones had been doing the lambada in great expectation for the last week. Flirtatious texts had been exchanged between Daniel and me on a daily basis. A slinky, killer top had been bought to go with my favourite black trousers, which clearly begged the question was I wearing any underwear? All to no sodding avail. I really had thought that after all those years of near misses, we were finally going to cross the Rubicon.
Nilsson was building to a pitch. ‘Without yoooooou.’
Utter nonsense. Of course you could live, you just got on with it and you certainly didn’t waste time feeling sorry for yourself listening to pappy songs on the radio.
A fresh gale of laughter came through the thin wall and I could hear Daniel’s gruffer tones. Then it went quiet. My overactive imagination saw Emily’s face alight with laughter and then the laughter cut off by a kiss.
Stomping to the radio, I abruptly turned it to Radio 4 and got long wave by mistake. Great, cricket. I raised my eyes heavenwards. Not helping here.
Couldn’t someone be on my side? Couldn’t I have a break today? Cricket had its own connotations. All related to Daniel.
Not many people realised it but he was my friend first — but the minute he met my dad and brother, Ben, with that strange instant sports exchange men have, they discovered a mutual adoration of cricket. Before I knew it Daniel had joined the village cricket club, White Waltham, and became an inescapable fixture in my life.
I had to get out of the flat. I might as well go and do what I’d been putting off for ages and see if I could find the perfect outfit to wear to my cousin Lucy’s forthcoming wedding. A horrible thought suddenly struck me. Please God don’t let Daniel invite Emily to be his partner at the wedding. No, they wouldn’t last that long. Surely this was just a one-night fling thing. Wasn’t it?
Chapter One
What was it with wedding speeches? Whatever happened to, ‘I’m nervous as hell? Doesn’t my bride look great? Thanks for coming.’
As if he could hear my thoughts, Daniel looked across and gave me one of his zillion-kilowatt smiles, followed by a discreet wink as the groom proceeded to launch into a speech worthy of the Pride of Britain awards.
My heart did its usual Olympic gold-winning, one and a half somersault dive sending a hot flush around my system. Six weeks. He’d been going out with Emily for six, sodding, interminable weeks now and I still had that stupid reaction around him.
I gave a tense, polite smile back. I could do this. Friends, we’re friends. Always have been and — I had to accept it once and for all — always will be.
As Emily’s hand crept around Daniel’s shoulders I focused back on Piers the groom and his rambling tale of finding true love in Neasden on a three-minute speed date organised by my cousin, trying to ensure that my face said completely-enraptured-by-this-story. I’d heard it many times before.
The room erupted with laughter. I’d missed the groom’s punchline. He was raising his glass to make the toast and then we were all on our feet.
Indecent or not, I left the table abandoning my half-eaten dessert and headed to the ladies before everyone else. All the mirror told me was that my eyes were over-bright but that I still looked relatively normal. Jealousy did funny things to you on the inside and I was convinced it might start showing any day now on the outside.
Unfortunately I couldn’t skulk in the loos for the rest of the reception so, tucking my clutch bag under my arm, I headed insearch of much-needed liquid refreshment. Of course I bumped straight into my mother who must have been staking out the bar waiting for me, as she knows there’s only so long I can go without a glass of wine. She flicked a triumphant glance at my Auntie Brenda, who was looking vibrant in a fuchsia pink silk suit.
