Even after an entire afternoon together, they hadn’t run out of things to talk about. Considering all the time they’d spent together already, it was crazy that those conversations just kept flowing as they swapped more stories from their past, their thoughts and opinions on every topic under the sun, their favourite movies and music, books they’d read, things they’d loved.
As Peter shared funny stories about his brothers and some of the antics they’d got up to in their heydays before the women in their lives knocked some sense into them—stories that had her literally in tears with helpless laughter—she realised this was the most fun she’d ever had with a man in her entire life.
She thought of the many sweet love affairs she’d enjoyed over the years. The passionate chef she’d met in Paris. The hotel manager she’d fallen for in Rome. The wedding singer she’d spent a season with in Sydney. The bar owner she’d adored in Barcelona. And the others she’d dated and enjoyed spending time with as she moved from place to place.
Every one of those men had been wonderful and they all owned a tiny piece of her heart. She cherished the memories of the times she’d spent with each of them—sunset walks around the Sacre Coeur, romantic dinners beneath the Colosseum, hot afternoons on Bondi Beach, candlelit drinks in the shadow of the Sagrada Familia, and so many other memories that filled her heart with gratitude and happiness.
But she’d never known fun like this. With Peter.
She felt completely at ease with him and loved hearing every story he wanted to share with her. The more she heard, the more she wanted to hear and the more she wanted to know about himand his life, how his mind worked now, what he wanted now, what he wanted in the future.
Every moment they shared now was framed with the memory of the kids they’d been when they first met. She’d known the boy and now she knew the man and remembering the boy made her love this time spent with the man all the more.
And when it was her turn to speak, the way he hung on her every word and the way he looked at her made her feel like the only person in the entire world.
After they finished their coffee, Peter gave her one of those looks and smiled, which only added to the effect of his charms.
“So, how about that walk up to Blackberry Hill?” he asked.
“Yes, let’s do it,” she said and stood up to pull on her coat. “If we don’t go now I’ll only order more coffee and end up staying here for the rest of the evening.”
“That wouldn’t be a terrible way to spend our time, if that’s what you want.”
“You promised me the stars. I expect you to deliver.”
He smiled, eyes twinkling at her remark.
Reckless, she thought… and decided she was okay with that.
Peter paid the bill, fending her off when she tried to pay it herself, and they left the bar. It was cold outside, a surprise after the warmth they’d left behind. Gaby buttoned her coat and tucked herself into Peter’s side as they started walking, looping her arm into his.
They retraced their steps through the town centre, past busy bars and crowded restaurants filled with people enjoying their Saturday night. On the high street, they squeezed past the people queuing out the door at the fish and chip shop and the other take away places and then squeezed past a group of kids standing outside a busy ice cream and dessert shop, laughing and horsing around as they waited for a table to open up inside.
Taxis and cars whizzed up and down on the road, people hustled around on the pavement, and a packed bus trundled past.
For a little town hidden amongst the green folds of the English South Downs, Hamblehurst was a vibrant place, bursting with life and activity.
And yet once they moved away from the high street and began walking along the residential streets, it turned into a peaceful and sleepy place again. They passed dog walkers and late-night joggers and shift workers coming and going, passed houses tucked up for the night and with televisions flickering behind closed curtains.
Cosy, Gaby thought once more. It was such a lovely, pretty, cosy town. No wonder Peter had decided to make his life here. There was so much to like, so much to love.
She wondered if her attention to her surroundings—the busy high street, the bustling restaurants and pubs, the peaceful residential streets, the people out and about—was a distraction tactic to stop her thinking about the destination ahead.
Walking out of town in the November darkness and climbing up Blackberry Hill was an obviously ridiculous thing for two thirty-somethings to do at ten o’clock on a Saturday night.
And yet, they were doing it anyway.
Reckless, she thought yet again.
Peter kept her hand tucked inside his as they walked. She liked that, liked feeling that connection. Walking along the dark streets, hand in hand as they headed towards their destination, she felt like a character in a fairy tale on a quest into enchanted lands.
That’s the wine talking, she told herself.Or at least, you’d better hope that’s all it is.
The night sky was clear, the afternoon clouds having drifted off as evening arrived. The stars were already visible and Gabywas excited to see how amazing the sky would look once they left behind the streetlights.
They chatted as they walked, the same easy conversation they’d been sharing all day. The longer they spent together, the more comfortable she felt with him, as if the fifteen years that separated them from when they’d first met didn’t much matter.
Soon, they’d left behind the residential streets and joined a lane that led them away from the town and up towards Blackberry Hill. Even in the darkness, Gaby’s memories came flooding back as she remembered the route they’d taken when they were kids.
