Peter blinked and made a show of checking the time as he reined in his galloping thoughts. “Our table is booked for seven. We should make a move.”
“Do we have far to walk?” Gaby asked, pulling on her coat and looking out at the rain.
“We’re just a few away minutes from here. I don’t think we’ll get too wet.”
They left the café bar and headed out into the rain. The cold damp air was just the mind-cleansing tonic Peter needed and he hoped the refresh would see him through the meal ahead.
He’d been the one to ask Gaby to join him for dinner as a thank you for helping fill the guest speaker slot at the careers event and he wanted to make sure she had a good time, which wouldn’t happen if he was silently entertaining romantic fantasies that would send her running for the hills.
They’d share a meal and enjoy a pleasant evening together… and then go their separate ways. After tonight, they’d have no reason to see each other again. They’d caught up on old times, reminisced about the past, chatted about how their lives had turned out, and Gaby had done him the favour he’d asked of her and talked to his school students.
Once he’d bought her dinner to repay her kindness, that would be that. Gaby would get on with spending time with her aunt and Peter would get on with work.
And in a few days’ time, she’d be gone again.
Laying it all out in his mind this way reminded Peter that this time together was temporary and destined to end, just like that teenage summer they’d shared had been temporary and destined to end too.
And just as he’d done back then, he ought to simply enjoy it while it lasted.
It was good advice, he decided.
And he’d be a fool not to take it.
12
The Italian restaurantwas located halfway down a cobbled lane just off the market square. Gaby had forgotten just how many of these sweet lanes there were in Hamblehurst. Not that it was the sort of thing a seventeen-year-old would’ve paid much attention to all those years ago, especially not a seventeen-year-old who’d been too head-over-heels in love to notice features such as quaint cobblestones and old-fashioned streetlamps and the sweetly alluring character of the quietly lovely little town.
But Gaby noticed them now as they walked from the café bar to the restaurant Peter had chosen.
Even in the drizzling rain of a cold November evening, Hamblehurst was undeniably pretty. The wet cobblestones gleamed beneath the golden glow from the streetlamps. The shops and offices were shuttered for the night but the town centre still bubbled with life thanks to the music and chatter drifting out from the pubs and restaurants they passed.
Peter had produced an umbrella from his bag when they left the bar and Gaby was glad to huddle beneath it as the rain turned from soft drizzle to autumnal downpour. By the time they reached the restaurant, they were running as they tried to stay dry and laughing as they skipped over puddles together.
Gaby clung to Peter’s arm as he covered them both with the umbrella. Pressed close into his side as they laughed their way through the downpour, she was almost sorry when they ducked beneath the entrance canopy and she no longer had an excuse to stay pinned against him.
Peter shook out the umbrella and held open the door for her. They were greeted inside by a waiter who took their wet coats and showed them to a table.
But they were both still laughing softly as they sat down, still shaking off the raindrops and enjoying the shared moment of their huddled run together beneath Peter’s umbrella.
“I forgot how quickly the autumn weather can turn in England and take you by surprise,” Gaby said.
“Took me by surprise too, to be honest,” Peter said. “If I’d known that downpour was coming, we could’ve waited in the bar until it passed. I hope you’re not too wet.”
“I’m fine. Your umbrella kept the worst of it at bay. And it was sort of fun running through the rain.”
His smile was warm and made his eyes twinkle. “Yeah, it was fun.”
They held each other’s gaze for a beat, enjoying the humour of the soaking they’d endured. Gaby was the first to look away, the blue depths of Peter’s eyes suddenly making her heart stutter.
The waiter reappeared with menus and took their drinks order. Gaby was glad of the interruption because she didn’t like the dangerous place her mind had wandered to while Peter’s gaze was locked on hers.
They discussed the menu and what they might choose. The waiter poured the bottle of wine Peter ordered and they nibbled on olives and bread while they settled on their dinner choices.
“This is a nice restaurant,” Gaby said once they’d ordered. The interior was modern and comfortable, a mix of earthycolours, dark wood tables and chairs and elegant lighting. A wood-fired pizza oven added warmth and theatre, and the bar with its mix of mirrors and uplighters looked like the perfect spot to linger with an after-dinner drink.
“It’s a popular place,” Peter said. “You made a good choice ordering the lasagne. It’s homemade and they’re famous for it around town. I would’ve ordered it too, but I can’t resist the chicken parmesan.”
“It sounds like you come here a lot.”
