‘But he’s never said anything. The one time I asked where we were heading, he practically did a runner—’
Another warning finger felled me into silence.
‘The fact that he’s said nothing doesn’t mean it isn’t how he feels. And remember, he’s been burnt before, so it’s perfectly understandable that he wants to take things slow. Plus, he probably doesn’t want to scare you off. What that says to me is that he’s putting your needs ahead of his.’
Olly gave a very Antipodean shrug, as though such a concept was unheard of where he came from.
‘Now, do I go for the easy cliché and buy a box of Foster’s, or pretend that I’ve acquired a taste for British-brewed beer?’ he asked, in the most abrupt conversational one-eighty I’d ever known. He winked as he reached for an enormous box.
Olly’s opinion of how Rhys felt about our situation was just that: Olly’s opinion. It didn’t mean he was necessarily right. But it certainly cast enough seeds of doubt to make me suddenly wonder if our curious agreement was coming to the end of its natural lifespan.
I’d missed him, not just on his week’s holiday with Tasha. I missed him constantly, even in places where he’d never been: on nights out with my friends; sitting beside me on the couch watching TV; in my bed. He was in my head all the time, but that wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe it never had been.
‘You’d better not tell him I said anything,’ Olly said, suddenly realising that he might just have put his size thirteen foot in his mouth. ‘He’ll have my balls for earrings if I’ve gone and screwed this up for him.’
This time the hug was of my making. ‘Don’t worry. You haven’t done anything wrong. Far from it, in fact.’
‘Bonzer,’ Olly said, reaching again for the box of amber nectar. ‘Well, I ought to get going. Don’t want to miss the last of the rays. It’s a lovely evening for a barbie.’
I watched him head towards the checkout and on impulse placed a third bottle of Rhys’s favourite wine into my basket. ‘It certainly is,’ I said softly.
I didn’t wait until I got home to make the phone call. I called right there in the supermarket car park, my hands sweaty with nerves as I held my mobile.
‘Are you doing anything tonight? Do you have any plans?’
‘No.’ Rhys’s voice felt like a caress in my ear.
We didn’t do this. We didn’t see each other in the evenings. It was as though there was an unspoken hidden agreement within our original one that meeting after darkness had fallen would be too dangerous, too much of a challenge for our self-control. And from the state of my palms and the tingling excitement that was already thrumming through me, perhaps it had been just as well. But something had happened today, something I hadn’t been expecting. The tide had turned, not gently, but with a tsunami-like velocity.
‘Mel and Steve are having a barbecue tonight, and I wondered if you’d like to come with me.’
‘What time shall I pick you up?’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The delicious aroma of barbecue was on the wind. Even if I hadn’t known the way to Mel’s front door like the back of my hand, I would only have had to follow the tantalising airborne trail to find their house.
‘This would be a really bad time to tell me you’ve gone vegan,’ I teased, knowing perfectly well that he had not.
‘You don’t have to worry on that score. I’m still very much a caveman carnivore.’
An image of a Stone Age Rhys popped into my head and my reaction was purely primal. I had no idea why suddenly everything seemed to have sexual undertones, but I was hearing double meanings and hidden innuendoes all over the place. I really hoped Mel had plenty of ice-cold drink on hand, because I definitely needed to cool down.
We walked side by side along the pavement until we reached Mel’s house, our shoulders occasionally colliding. It made me miss the guiding hand he usually placed against my back whenever we walked together. But Rhys’s arms were filled with flowers for Mel and beers for Steve, while mine carried the bottles of Rioja.
‘This is it,’ I said unnecessarily, as the noise of the party drifted over the rooftops from the back garden.
‘Nice area,’ Rhys said, his eyes travelling up and down the street, where every other front lawn seemed to have a child’s bike, a swing set, or a football net. ‘It looks like a great place to raise a family.’ For once I found myself looking at the rows of houses not through the eyes of an estate agent, but through those of a best friend. I crossed my fingers superstitiously and hoped that Mel and Steve’s front garden would one day soon match their neighbours’.
As I juggled the bottles of wine in my arms to ring the doorbell, I noticed the speculative expression on Rhys’s face had been replaced by one that I hardly ever saw. If I didn’t know better, I would have labelled it trepidation.
The familiar Ring chime echoed in the hallway beyond, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Rhys shift his weight from one leg to the other. He was nervous.
‘Are you okay?’
He gave a small half laugh. ‘I kind of feel like I’ve been brought home to meet the parents.’ He shook his head as though even he couldn’t believe he was anxious. ‘It feels strange.’ He bit his lower lip, which immediately made me want to do exactly the same thing – in a totally different context.
‘I guess I just want to make a good impression. I want them to think I’m good enough for you.’