Page 47 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

She felt she could talk to him too, could open up to him about her dreams, dreams she’d kept bottled up inside her for years, squashing them down, telling them firmly that they were in the past.

On the mental list of qualities you might want in a man, Harry ticked box after box.

And now, as she stood in her bedroom, contemplating what to wear, she felt an excitement and a nervousness that she hadn’t felt in years, not since she was a teenager. He was cooking dinner for her. And yes, the reason for her visit was so he could help with her accounts, but she found herself hoping he might go over more than just her figures.

But alongside that excitement was a growing uneasiness, that perhaps she shouldn’t be going.

And she definitely shouldn’t be going in this. She pulled the low-cut, slinky top over her head, and rummaged through the wardrobe for something else to pair with her jeans. Something that said, ‘This isn’t a date. I’m not looking for a relationship.’ Something that said, ‘I need a friend and accounting advice. Nothing more.’

Nothing more yet, anyway. She couldn’t have a relationship until Max was older. He hated change. The house move had gone more smoothly than she’d dared hope, but she still couldn’t imagine how he’d handle things if she introduced a new boyfriend into their lives.

If she and Harry hadn’t kissed, she wouldn’t have had any qualms about going to his place this evening, but they had kissed – and what a kiss – and she didn’t want to lead Harry on. He was too lovely. In hindsight, perhaps she shouldn’t have accepted his invitation. She could have asked that they meet to check the accounts during the daytime, told him there and then that she had a son and that it was difficult.

She pulled on a funky crop top that she’d crafted out of an old crocheted blanket and decided she’d be honest with Harry this evening. She’d admit that she was developing feelings for him, but say that a relationship was impossible for her right now, because of Max. The best she could offer him was something casual, a date from time to time. Friends with benefits. But she suspected that Harry wasn’t a friends with benefits kind of guy, and deep down, she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with that either. It would only leave her wanting more.

She looked in the mirror. The crop top said fun. The crop top said friends with benefits. She took it off and stared at the growing heap of garments on her bed. What was Harry wearing this evening? Hopefully not one of his grey suits. It was baffling how quickly she’d gone from thinking he was a boring guy in accountant clothes to being unable think of him without remembering how good his lips had felt against hers. The memory of his fingers slipping underneath her top and touching her bare skin gave her goosebumps. She felt slightly embarrassed recalling how she’d fallen asleep on him, but she’d felt so cosy with him, so safe, and that too was a turn-on in its own way. She’d read countless romances where a woman fell for a bad boy, someone with that element of danger about him, but in reality, in her reality at least, there was something far more attractive about a man you felt safe with.

She heard Max’s voice from downstairs, reminding her that no matter how much she liked Harry, it couldn’t happen.

‘Fifteen points,’ he proclaimed. ‘Salt Lake City to Portland.’

Ticket to Ride was obviously in full swing again.

Taylor settled on her knee-length green dress with a modest neckline, polka dot belt and matching headband – she’d made it years ago, but thankfully it still fitted. It was the sort of outfit you might wear if you were meeting your girlfriends in town for lunch, or going to a matinee at the theatre. By now, she was running late. She went downstairs, leaned over to give Max a hasty kiss on the cheek – he was so engrossed in the game that he didn’t notice – and promised Sylvia she’d be back by half past ten at the very latest. Then she grabbed the folder where she kept her invoices and accounts and hurried out of the door.

She caught the bus to nearby Essendale, as the buses were more frequent in the evenings than the trains. On the way, she rehearsed her speech, mumbling it under her breath. The other passengers gave her a wide berth.

‘Harry, I probably should have told you this before…’

Wait. Should she have told him before? After all, they’d only kissed once.

‘I have a son – Max – and he doesn’t cope too well with change, so a relationship is out of the question for me at the moment.’

Bit presumptuous. Harry hadn’t asked her if she wanted a relationship.

By the time the bus reached Essendale, she was not only twenty minutes late, but was also no nearer knowing what she was going to say. She’d have to wing it.

Harry’s house was a large Victorian end-of-terrace in traditional Yorkshire stone on a tree-lined side street. Inside, the place had lovely original features – a cast-iron fireplace, ceiling rose and traditional cornices. It could look amazing, but his taste in interiors seemed to match his unadventurous taste in clothes. The walls were painted in an uninspiring shade of beige, with carpets and furnishings to match.

Whilst his home might be a bit on the bland side, his food certainly wasn’t. Taylor was pleasantly surprised by how well her host could cook. The soup was delicious – you didn’t get that kind of quality in a can from the supermarket – and the chicken too. He plied her with wine; not in a ‘trying to get you drunk’, letchy way, but in a generous way, topping her glass up as soon as it was half empty.

She ought not to be drinking so much, she thought vaguely. Ought to be keeping a clear head. After all, they still had to look at the accounts – they were the reason for her visit this evening – and she still had to do her little speech about how being a single mum made having a relationship impossible for her right now. But she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had cooked for her, let alone treated her like this; the meal was such a delicious change from her usual evening fare of fish fingers and beans. She felt thoroughly spoiled, so when Harry suggested opening another bottle, she nodded and heard herself saying, ‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’

Next Harry produced two perfect chocolate puddings. They were a little misshapen, so clearly home-made, and even though she wasn’t sure she had room for any more food, she couldn’t resist. It would have been rude to refuse when he’d gone to so much effort.

I could get used to this, she thought, then remembered that she wouldn’t get the chance to. Once he knew about Max, once she’d told him that a relationship was out of the question for her right now, she was guessing there wouldn’t be any more dinner invitations.

Harry stood up. ‘I’ll make coffee, and then we can look at those accounts.’

By now, the accounts were the last thing on her mind, but he was already on his way to the kitchen with the empty dishes. She heard the whirr of a coffee grinder and realised the coffee making might take a while, so decided to pop to the loo.

‘Okay if I use the bathroom?’ she called.

‘Sure. Up the stairs on the right.’

After seeing how bland the dining room was, Taylor was surprised when she entered the bathroom. Although a little bare, it was a veritable oasis, plain grey tiles with a grey, silver and black mosaic border, a little round basin with a fancy tap and there beside the window, an enormous, claw-footed bath.

The kind of bathroom she dreamed of having.