‘Oh. I’ll have whatever my friend’s having. Thanks. And a bottle of white wine, please.’
‘Would that be a bottle of Sancerre, sir? That’s what your friend has been drinking.’ The waitress glanced at me, and at my, once again, empty glass.
‘Yes. That’s fine, thanks,’ Sam said.
She took my glass and walked away.
‘When did you break up?’ Sam repositioned the cutlery at his place setting, avoiding my eyes as he spoke. ‘Was the relationship serious?’
‘With Ted?’ Sam nodded, so I continued. ‘On Thursday night. And, yes and no. We’d been dating for more than a year but … something changed after the new year. I … I booked this break in the hope that it might bring us back together. But all it did was made us both realise we were drifting further apart. Ted asked me to cancel. I refused. So … he ended it. But it was sort of mutual. I’m not upset. Just, maybe, a little sad that another relationship hasn’t worked out. Sorry. I’m rambling.’ My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I hadn’t meant to say so much.
Sam shook his head. ‘Not at all. Is that what you want then? A relationship?’
I gave a small laugh. ‘Doesn’t everybody?’
Sam’s shrug surprised me. And yet, in a way, it didn’t. But his words did.
‘I don’t,’ he said, his eyes locked firmly on mine.
‘You don’t? Not at all?’ I laughed nervously. ‘Perhaps you just haven’t met the right woman yet.’
He frowned. ‘It’s just not me. Relationships, I mean. Don’t get me wrong. I like dating. I like having fun. But a long-term commitment isn’t on the cards for me.’
‘Oh. I see. I remember that’s how you felt ten years ago, but I thought you might’ve … changed your mind since then.’
‘No. Nothing’s changed.’
He was looking at me so intensely and I had a feeling he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.
‘And Jenna?’ I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. Now it was me who felt the need to rearrange my own cutlery.
‘Jenna’s a friend.’
‘A friend you’re dating?’
‘No. But we did hook up for a couple of weeks last summer. Nothing serious.’
‘Because you don’t have relationships?’
His eyes scanned my face. ‘That’s right. But Jenna still does some work for me from time to time.’
‘Work? What sort of work? What do you do for a living?’ I tried to make it sound casual, but even to my ears it sounded as though I was giving him a grilling. ‘I seem to recall you saying work was a necessary evil, or something along those lines.’
He laughed. ‘That sounds like me. After that summer, I went travelling, as I’d planned. And you went to uni.’ He waved a hand in the air. ‘That was a lifetime ago. Anyway, I bought a bike.’ He grinned. ‘A motorbike. And I loved it, so when I came home, I opened a bike shop and garage. Adventure, Sport, Roadsters, Modern Classics, and Vintage. Starter bikes to top of the range. I buy, sell, and repair them all. New and used.’
‘Wow. That’s a surprise.’ I shot a look at his hands. He clearly took care of himself. The skin was smooth and his agile fingers didn’t look like those of a man who repaired motorbikes.
As if reading my mind, he said, ‘I have a mechanic. But I do like to get my hands dirty from time to time.’
I remembered how good those hands had felt on my body and I wished the waitress would hurry up with that wine.
‘And … how does Jenna fit into that? You said she does some work for you from time to time.’
‘Jenna? Yeah. She’s one of the models I use for my ads.’
‘Ads? You run ads? And have models? Crikey. You’re in the big leagues.’
Again he laughed. ‘I wouldn’t say that. But I do okay. The ads are for the local press, my website, and for the specialist magazines. They’re not on mainstream TV or anything. How about you? You wanted to be a wedding dress designer, I seem to recall.’ He licked his lips as though he was nervous. Perhaps, as he didn’t have relationships, the word, ‘wedding’ had that effect on him.
