Billy No Mates tonight. Feeling very sorry for myself and distinctly Bridget Jones-like, especially after seeing what all my friends and family are up to this evening – particularly you AuntieKay Summers! Thank goodnessClare O’Connellis coming to visit tomorrow to entertain me. Going to dig out the romcoms, make some hot chocolate and trough a large bag of Doritos
I re-read my message and toyed with not posting it. Did it sound too ‘woe is me?’But it was how I felt and Madame Louisa said I needed to share more. Sod it! I’d post it. I was lonely and bored and I needed some sympathy.
It was only 8.17 p.m. but my PJs, slippers, and fluffy dressing gown called. I removed my make-up and released my hair from its clip, feeling much more relaxed.
Downstairs, I stoked up the fire, lit some scented candles, putPretty Womanon and threw myself onto the sofa with a soft red throw.
Richard Gere had just invited Julia Roberts into the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotelwhen a loud knock on the door made me jump. I reluctantly peeled back the throw and padded into the hall.
‘Who is it?’ I shouted.
‘Nick.’
‘Nick?’Oh. My. God!It wasn’t even nine and there I was in my PJs with no make-up on and hair everywhere.
‘I wondered if Billy No Mates would like some company before she’s found on her floor eaten by Alsatians?’ he shouted. ‘But I can leave if it’s a bad time.’
I smiled at theBridget Jonesreference. So, he saw my Facebookstatus and came straight round, did he? My knight in shining armour.I unlatched the door and opened it an inch or so. ‘I have to warn you, I’m in my PJs. It’s not a pretty sight.’
‘I don’t believe that for a minute,’ he said.
With my stomach doing somersaults, I opened the door wider and ushered him in out of the cold.
‘Nice PJs,’ he said.
‘They’re comfortable. I know men have this fantasy of women in little satin numbers, but it’s freezing tonight and fleecy PJs with teddies on are exactly what’s needed.’
Nick laughed. ‘I’m being serious. I really do like them. Surprisingly, they’re kind of sexy. I’m not so convinced about the slippers, though.’
Eek! I’d forgotten about the teddy-shaped slippers. ‘Oh well, you’ve seen me at my worst. The least I can do is offer you a drink for the shock.’
‘I’ve brought you this.’ He handed me a bottle of wine. ‘I know you were planning hot chocolate, but I thought you might prefer something stronger.’
I smiled again. ‘Thanks, Nick. I’d best get this open then.’
‘I’d have brought you some flowers too, but I figured petrol station flowers for a florist could be an insult.’
‘I can’t remember the last time someone bought me flowers.’
Nick smiled. ‘We’ll have to rectify that soon, then.’ He held my gaze. Stomach gymnastics time again. What was he doing to me?
‘Make yourself comfortable in the lounge and I’ll get some glasses.’ I headed towards the kitchen. I wasn’t sure how I managed to sound so cheerful and casual when I was falling to pieces inside. All I wanted to do was scream at him,‘Why didn’t you reply to my text? Have you any idea how hard the past fortnight has been? And now you’re here acting all heroic. What’s going on?’But, of course, I didn’t have the guts to say it.
‘Pretty Woman,’ Nick said when I walked back into the lounge. For a fleeting moment I thought he was complimenting me. Then he added, ‘Great film.’
‘Oh, yeah, let me stop that.’ I handed him one of the glassesthen grabbed the remote, put the TV off, and sat beside him on the sofa.
‘Are you really sure you don’t mind me being here? I should probably have phoned first. You just sounded so down on Facebook that I came straight round.’
‘It’s fine.’ I gently touched his arm. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
He held my gaze again. It was definitely there; there was no denying the chemistry between us. So what happened after Bob’s leaving do? Should I say something? Should I do something? I found myself staring at his lips and imagining what it would feel like to kiss him.Good grief, Sarah, get a grip.
‘So,’ I said, ‘I really enjoyed Bob’s leaving do. You were right about the Bay Trade guys. Great bunch. Did Bob enjoy his send-off?’
