‘Sorry?’ He looks at me, bemused.
Grinning, I shake my head. ‘Don’t mind me. My lastrelationship was with Guy, who was a wedding singer. I found out much too latethat he had a thing about pulling mature women at weddings. It wasn’t the firsttime, apparently.’
Liam looks horrified. ‘That guy gives wedding singers a badname. We’re not all like that, you know. What’s he called?’
‘No, he’s actuallycalledGuy.’
‘Right.’
‘Sorry, I changed the subject. You were telling me aboutyour singing.’
‘Was I?’ He grins. ‘Oh, yes, well the bottom line is I got ajob in radio behind the scenes because of my musical background, but I had tofill in for Marcus one day in front of the mic and I found I was okay at it. Ireally enjoyed it as well and the feedback from the audience was good.’
‘So you’re taking over from Marcus on Monday. Are younervous?’
‘A bit. But mostly, I’m really excited. I think I might havefinally found the career for me.’
‘That’s brilliant. But you’ll still sing at weddings,though?’
He grins. ‘Yes. As long as no one there objects.’
We exchange a smile and I feel a delicious warmth within,like a big, beautiful rose unfurling in my chest. Liam’s so lovely. He might bea wedding singer like Guy, but I’m absolutely certain that’s where thesimilarity ends. I stifle a yawn, wishing this night could go on forever butfeeling suddenly exhausted after the day’s activities.
‘You’re tired. I’d better go.’ Liam smiles, heaving himselfup reluctantly from the squashy sofa.
I shake my head in protest, but another yawn is alreadybrewing.
‘Are you going to read your letter?’ he murmurs, as we partat the front door.
I shrug. ‘Maybe. Not now, though.’
He nods slowly as if he understands.
‘Thank you for today. I’ll... be listeningto your first broadcast on Monday.’
‘Will you?’ He winces.
‘You’ll be great. And if you need a nice relaxing day beforethat – you know, to prepare you for your debut – you could always come to thespecial cake celebration at the café on Sunday.’ I bite the side of my lip,hoping I didn’t sound too desperate to see him again.
‘Cake celebration, eh?’
‘The café’s going to be decked out like a French patisserie,and we’re planning to bake lots of mouth-watering delights for the occasion.’
‘You mean I’ll get to sample your cakes and discover howgood you are?’
Now it’s my turn to wince. ‘I guess so.’
‘Well, how could I say no to that?’
‘So you’ll come?’
‘I’ll be there.’
He walks to his car and I stand there, watching him. Hewaves, gets in and does a nifty three-point turn before heading off down thedrive.
And for once, I’m not troubled by thoughts of Dylan or theletters from Mum or the very annoying Eddie. My mind is too full of LiamWesterbrook right now to leave room for anyone else.
And as I step back inside and close the door, a tantalisingthought occurs: maybe – just maybe – I’ve finally found a man who’s perfect forme...
