‘So.’ He suddenly looks very serious. ‘To get it back out there: no obligation at all, obviously, but I wondered if you would like to go for a date.’
His knuckles are white again.
This time it’s an easy decision.
‘One date would be very nice.’ I reach out and touch his hand briefly and he catches my fingers and I get the most enormous thrill, right up my arm and through my whole body. ‘Just one date for now. A realfirstdate. And then just see what happens. If anything.’
I cannot risk too much heartbreak with Callum again. I can’t leap straight into happily-ever-after fantasies this time. My heart can’t take any more bruising.
‘That sounds perfect,’ Callum says.
‘So basically we’re going to take things very, very slowly and talk more openly and only… do stuff if we feel some level of commitment.’
‘Perfect.’ He pauses and then says, ‘I mean, if we’re going to wait to do stuff until we’ve talked, I can give you my entire life history right now?’
‘Callum!’ I glare at him.
‘Sorry, joke, joke, joke.’
‘A very bad one.’
‘Yeah, sorry.’ He grins at me and I smile back. ‘Soooo… When… would you like to have that date?’
I’m suddenly feeling very decisive.
‘We’re both here now? We could have that cake—’ I feel like if Callum is going to date me properly he’s going to need to know all about my love of lemon drizzle ‘—and then go for a walk? I have a couple of hours free now and then I have a Zumba class and then I’m going out with girlfriends from work.’
It feels perfect that I have other plans later on. Yes, obviously I know how amazing our nights were when we were on the trip, but I really, really don’t want to take things insanely fast, because if there’s any hope of us going long term I think wehaveto take things slowly now, and it’s ideal if there’s something stopping me from giving in to any temptation.
‘Great,’ he says.
And then we sit and smile at each other. Callum nudges my ankle with his under the table and, honestly, I feel as though my heart’s going to lift right out of my body.
EPILOGUE
EMMA
Eighteen months later
‘I have a birthday surprise for you,’ I tell Callum when he opens his front door to me at the beginning of the May bank holiday weekend.
‘I want to say that a surprise sounds lovely but I’m remembering last time, plus you’re acting very shiftily,’ he says.
He’s referring to when I helped Thea sign him up for her carers-and-daughters school play,Macbeth, as a surprise. He landed the role of Third Tree and his green face paint didn’t come off properly for a good fortnight.
‘Notshifty,’ I reply, ‘just…’ Yeah, shifty. Callum isn’t thebiggestfan of Miranda. One too many inconvenient breakdowns in the last year. ‘Are you ready?’
Callum locks up and follows me along the road and round the corner to where I parked Miranda out of sight.
‘Noooo,’ he moans when he sees her.
‘Callum!’ I exclaim, mock-outraged. ‘Are you saying you don’t enjoy spending time in her with me?’
‘Not at all. I love you and I love Miranda. It’s just the breakdowns.’
‘There won’t be any,’ I say confidently. ‘But I’ve come prepared just in case.’
‘You have a car mechanic tucked away in the boot?’
