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Thrilled, I watch him choose a song. I have no idea whether he can sing or not, but I’m pleased he’s having a go, and so are the others.
He chooses Marvin Gaye’sSexual Healing, which makes my heart skip a beat. As the music starts, he says, “Ah, now I’m regretting it…” He takes a deep breath to hit the powerful high note at the beginning,Baby… makes it, gives a relieved laugh, and then he’s off and running.
I join in with the others and clap along, entranced by his sexy voice and his performance. Getting in his stride, he adds a few dance steps and a twirl, then manages to entangle himself in the microphone lead, but he just laughs and carries on.
We give him a huge cheer when he’s done, and he comes and sits next to me, tapping his glass against mine when I hold it up.
“Well done,” I say.
He grins. “Glad you enjoyed the performance.”
After a few more songs, we head into the main bar and sit and chat for another hour over a last drink, and then finally call an Uber around ten thirty. We say goodbye to the others, who all say they hope they get to see Titus again someday, and then we get in the car and head back to Briarton.
“Thank you so much for coming,” I murmur as the lights of the city flash by.
“Thanks for asking me. I really enjoyed it.”
“My friends all liked you,” I tell him.
He smiles. “I’m glad.”
I open my mouth to say that I like him, too, then close it again. I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine, and I mustn’t let it persuade me that coming on to him would be a good idea. Earlier I resolved to keep my distance, and I have to stick to it.
He meets my eyes, though, and there’s more than a little heat in his. This is so hard. Maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And I still have a whole weekend with him. How am I going to get through it without melting into a giant puddle?
We don’t say much more as the Uber travels along the darkened Expressway, through the Devon countryside, then eventually turns off toward Briarton. My heart picks up speed as he nears my cottage, though. Will he go straight to bed? Or will he want to sit and talk, or watch a movie?
When we arrive, we get out and thank the driver, and I open the front door. Titus gestures for me to precede him. I say, “After you.”
“No, after you.”
We both hesitate, then move forward together, and give an awkward laugh as we bump shoulders. “After you,” he says again, moving back, and I walk in hastily.
“Would you like a coffee?” I ask, heart racing as I toe off my Converses.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
I light a candle on the table, then go into the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light. He comes out with me, reaches up to retrieve a glass from the cupboard, and I turn and walk straight into his arm.
“Sorry,” I say, and duck under it to fill the kettle.
He mutters something, but I don’t ask what. There are butterflies in my stomach, although I’m not sure why. I take the full kettle back to its base and turn it on, then turn to get some milk out of the fridge, at the same time as he pulls out some water.
“For fuck’s sake,” he says.
My face flushes. “Sorry. I’m so clumsy.”
“Not you, Heidi. I’m frustrated with myself.” He puts the water on the counter, then rests his hands on his hips.
I let the fridge shut and turn so I’m resting back on the counter, puzzled at his words. To my surprise, he moves closer to me, until he’s just a few inches away.
His eyes are blazing with something, I’m not sure what. I can smell his aftershave, warmed by his skin. The muscles at the corner of his jaw are moving, as if he’s gritting his teeth.
“Everything all right?” I ask cautiously.
He inhales, then huffs a sigh. “I’m very disciplined,” he states.
I’m not sure where this is heading. “Okay…”
