Cloudy with a Chance of Love (32 page)

‘Thanks,' I smiled. Then I put my key in the lock and stepped into the hall, with Will stepping in behind me.

‘Hey, this looks good,' said Will, pretending to look around him all surprised. ‘Do it yourself?'

No,' I grinned nervously. ‘I got a man in.'

‘Good brushwork.'

He grinned right back at me – we were standing quite close to each other again. What was it with me and this man and halls?

‘Shoes on or off?' he asked. He was asking
that
, at a time like this?

‘Keep them on, it's fine,' I said. I liked the height my heels were giving me. They made me feel less nervous. I didn't want to be padding round in my bare feet as I'd feel more vulnerable, somehow. ‘Right. So,' I said. ‘Shall we go in the kitchen?'

He followed me into the kitchen, where I placed my bag on the side then turned on the big light. Ouch, that seemed too bright, so I swiftly turned it off again and switched on the under-cupboard strip lights instead. That was better; I hoped the effect was akin to candlelight, but doubted it. I shrugged off my cape and folded it over the back of a kitchen chair. I was glad he was seeing me in this dress but at the same time I was glad my bottom was facing away from him, wedged as it was against a counter top.

‘Nice dress,' he said, giving me a gentle – and what I hoped was appreciative – smile.

‘It should be – it cost me a bomb!'

He took his coat off, too, folded it and put it on the worktop. He was wearing a casual chambray shirt; it suited him. ‘I hope you didn't get any offers tonight,' he said, in a teasing but good-natured manner. ‘You, in that dress.'

‘I get offers every night,' I replied, in an equally teasing but good-natured way, but with my cheeks warming with a sudden blush. It was true, I pretty much had, this week, got lots of offers. Never mind that most of them were unsavoury.

‘Daryl,' he said hesitantly. ‘Can I ask you…' – and it came out all in a rush – ‘… are you still seeing that speed-date guy?'

‘No,' I said. ‘I told you I wasn't.' Why was he asking? Why was he asking this now? And why had he teased about ‘offers'? My pulse quickened and I felt a little light-headed.

‘I just want to be clear why you rejected my flowers tonight.'

‘Ah,' I said. ‘The flowers.' I sighed. ‘To be honest, Will, I wasn't happy with your apology.'

‘Can you please expand on that?' He looked all plaintive again.

‘You were telling me you'd made a mistake. No woman likes to hear from a man that kissing her was a
mistake
.' I sounded pretty flippant but my heart was going like the clappers. What was he going to say?

He paused for a moment, then nodded. ‘Ah. Right. No, I agree,' he said, and I held my breath, waiting for him to continue. ‘But that's not what I meant.'

I exhaled, just a tiny bit. ‘What
did
you mean?'

He sighed and wiped a hand across his brow. ‘The thing is…well… God, no wonder you said what you did, really. I didn't articulate myself properly… I was nervous…'

My heart was beating ridiculously fast. ‘I can't imagine you being nervous.'

‘Oh, I can be, believe me,' he smiled, running his hand through his hair. ‘I'm nervous now.'

‘Are you?' I realised I was holding onto the edge of the kitchen worktop, like a ballast. My heart was now in danger of stopping altogether.

‘Yes! For god's sake, Daryl, you're not making this easy for me. Can I please just explain myself to you?'

‘Okay.' I wasn't making it easy for him, was I? I was just suddenly petrified of what he might say.

‘Can we start with me being a jealous numpty?'

‘Jealous?'

‘Yes.' He looked so serious. My heart kick-started and really began to race now. All those feelings I'd tried to squash since last night – since I'd met him, in fact – were flooding back round my body and I wasn't sure I wanted them to. I didn't dare hope they were worth re-igniting. No, he is not that good looking.
No
, you have no desire whatsoever to kiss him again. No, you do
not
think he would make the best boyfriend ever. He couldn't hear my heart could he? He couldn't see my body shaking or notice my cheeks flushing in the glow of the under-cupboard lights? I hoped my pupils weren't dilating to the size of saucers, like those of dogs in cartoons.

‘I haven't behaved particularly impeccably this week,' he said and cleared his throat slightly. ‘I thought – and I think you gave me that impression – that you'd been out two nights with the same man, Tuesday night and Wednesday night. I saw you go out again, that second time; you looked lovely.'

‘Thanks.' I'm polite; it just slipped out. I was really gripping the worktop now. I
had
given him the impression I'd been out with Ben two nights running…

‘You're welcome.' He smiled, a nervous sort of smile. ‘I was worried it must be getting serious really quickly. I was jealous… and I sort of panicked. I thought, as us blokes say, I'd better
get in there
, quick, ask you over to mine for Halloween. Stop you from seeing him for a third night, I suppose. I didn't
dare
ask you about your love forecast – the whole ninety-nine percent chance of love thing you told me about – and if it was working out.' I'd forgotten he even knew about that. Fancy him remembering that. ‘So, I invited you to spend Halloween with me.' He looked all guilty. ‘And it all went really well, didn't it?'

‘Halloween?'

‘Yes.'

‘It did.' All I could think about was that he was jealous. Jealous!

‘Then we had that kiss.'

‘Yes.' I looked away. I was blushing again, beneath my half rained-off make-up.

‘That kiss was… pretty amazing.' Oh god, he'd felt it too. Had he really felt it, too? ‘But then my annoying sense of what's right kicked in. We're neighbours, new neighbours at that. We'd become pretty good friends, Daryl, at least I thought so. I didn't want to ruin what we had. You'd just got
divorced
; you needed a friend, not some next door neighbour trying to get off with you… I was sure it was the
last
thing you wanted… and I
did
feel terrible because you were seeing someone and I'm really not the kind of bloke to steal someone else's girl –'(
Girl
, I loved that, despite the fact he was telling me why he hadn't wanted to carry on kissing me). ‘– And…'

I gave him a half-smile.

‘
Angie
,' I said.

‘Angie?'

It was so hard to read the look on his face, but I suddenly knew, with my heart deflating like a balloon, that I was right and Sam was wrong. It would never work between Will and me; there were too many obstacles between us.

I sighed. ‘You couldn't carry on kissing me because of
Angie.
You're not ready to move on. I completely understand. You don't want to be on some tragic rebound with a neighbour you hardly know – although maybe you've had
lots
of other rebounds, who knows, you're so good looking – and… well, you really don't want to rebound with
me
, do you, if you're not ready? I've only just got divorced, as you say. I'm hardly a catch… I've got a big bottom, I…'

‘Daryl,' he said quietly.

‘Yes?'

‘Will you come somewhere with me?'

‘What? Where?

‘Next door. I want to show you something.'

‘Your etchings? Ha ha.' It was a feeble joke and no one was laughing.

‘No.'

‘Okay.' I felt more than nervous now, suddenly. ‘Shall I put the kettle on first? Coffee, tea..?'

‘
No
.' The way he said it made parts of my body tingle. Oh god, he was all commanding and serious and sexy. What did he want to show me? And he took my arm and led me out of the front door (I remembered to grab my keys, on the way out; I'm sensible like that) and across the front of his house through to his side gate, and across his garden to his summerhouse. The rain was still coming down but I hardly noticed. It could have been hail, snow and thunder and I still probably wouldn't have noticed.

Even as we approached Will's summerhouse I could tell there was something hugely different about it. There was a wavering yellow-y, orange glow coming from inside. The windows looked all clean. A cute hanging basket of winter blooms was above the door.

Will had the key in his pocket. He opened the door. I stepped inside and, I couldn't help it, I let out a surprised gasp.

‘Oh my god, Will, a Calamity Jane make-over!'

It was clean, it was
tidy
; it had been completely swept of dust and cobwebs. All of the teetering pile of junk had gone. There were candles on the little ledges all around the walls, flickering merrily in little silver candle holders. Two garden chairs, with striped canvas seats, immaculately clean and pretty, sat opposite each other at a small, scrubbed wooden table. And on the table was a jug of flowers and some sort of pie, pale orange in colour and sitting on a white plate, as well as two mugs, a thermos flask and a
pot of what looked like clotted cream. I realised it was also lovely and warm in there; an electric fan heater was on in one corner, chucking out heat.

‘Do you like it?'

‘I love it.' My voice was barely above a whisper. What was all this about?

‘I've done hot chocolate. Do you like it?'

‘I
love
it,' I repeated. ‘Who doesn't like hot chocolate?'

‘And there's George,' he said, pointing at the pie. ‘What's left of him. I made it last night.'

‘You and your insomniac baking…'

He shrugged. ‘What can you do? It's when I do my best work. Please sit down.'

I sat down, looking around me and marvelling at everything, whilst trying not to shake. My foot immediately started going, under the table. When had he done this? When had he transformed the summerhouse? He poured the hot chocolate and cut us both a slice of pie. We ate for a few moments, in silence – well, I tried to; it was delicious, but I really didn't have much of an appetite.

‘When did you do this?'

‘This evening. Before I went to South Kensington and bought that ridiculous bunch of flowers.'

‘It's not often a man has to keep apologising for buying a woman flowers …' I smiled, but why
had
he bought me them? I still didn't know.

‘No,' he smiled, ‘it's not.'

I sipped my hot chocolate. ‘Where did you put all the stuff? The junk?'

‘Some in the house, if I could find a place for it. Some… well… you know there's that skip across the road…'

Despite my nerves, I burst out laughing. ‘Oh, brilliant.' And there it was, the Save the Whale poster, pinned at the top of one of the windows.

‘The flowers are in there, too.'

‘Are they?'

‘No, not really. They're in my sitting room, in a vase. A man should always have nice flowers in his home.'

‘And the smell of baking. You'd have no trouble selling.'

‘I'm not going anywhere.' He looked all serious again.
Very
serious. ‘Okay,' he said, taking a deep breath. ‘This is what I need to say to you. Last night was not a mistake. In fact it was as far from a mistake as there could be.
Ever
.'

I paused. I had my mug of hot chocolate halfway to my lips. I set it down again.

‘When I said I'd made a mistake, and tried to give you those bloody flowers, I meant it was a mistake that I said the
kiss
was a mistake, last night… Does that make any kind of sense?'

‘I think so,' I whispered. God, I hoped so. What was he telling me?

‘So we're neighbours, so what?' He looked so intense my heart started beating double-time. ‘It really doesn't matter. It's not an obstacle if we don't see it as one. At least it isn't to me.' Will's brown eyes were locked on mine; I was paralysed. ‘And about Angie,' he went on. ‘I will never, ever forget her and nor do I want to,' he said. ‘I loved her. I always will.'

‘Of course you will,' I stammered. I would never expect that of him – of anyone. How
could
he forget her? I let him continue. I had never wanted someone to continue more.

‘I was in a bad place for quite a long time. I wasn't good. But I'm better now,' he said, looking up at me. ‘I'm so much better. The insomnia's still there but I think that's just a bad habit now, more than anything else…' He laid his fork down on the little table and looked straight at me. ‘And I
am
ready to move on. Not on a rebound – and no, I haven't had several of those. I'm very, very choosy, I'll have you know.' He raised his eyebrows at me. I raised mine back, as best as I could with my heart thundering against my chest. I picked up my fork and started drumming it lightly on the table. ‘The bottom line is I'm ready for someone else in my life now, and I've been ready for some time.'

‘Have you?'

‘Yes. I have. I've been ready for about a fortnight.'

‘A fortnight.' I just dumbly repeated what he'd said. It was all I could do. My blood was pounding, my foot was tapping, the fork was drumming. Thank goodness the sound of the heater was drowning most of it out. Could Sam's silly forecast have been right? Had there been something written in the stars all along?

Will ran his hand through his hair again. Oh god. I was on the edge of my seat. ‘The thing is…'

I kept tapping. ‘Yes?'

‘The thing is, it wasn't wrong to kiss you. In fact, nothing has felt so right for a long, long time. If I regret anything, it's that I
stopped
kissing you. In fact, I wish I'd been kissing you non-stop, ever since.' The tapping halted. My fork was frozen, mid-air. ‘The thing is… I've been ready to move on since the moment I met you. I knew it when I turned up on your doorstep with the lemon drizzle and you made me carry that ridiculous box.' I couldn't help but giggle, although my heart was hammering. ‘I knew it when I saw you stuffing your face with cake–'