‘Have you been here before?’ Will asks, as a waitress shows us to a nearby table. Most of the tables look reserved for couples, but we’re the first to arrive at one with six seats, a little reserved sign in the middle, illuminated by more flickering candles.
‘No,’ I say. ‘But I’ve heard of it, it’s known as a romantic place.’
‘Not even with friends?’
‘I don’t have friends.’
Will pouts, and I browse the menu, his hand massaging my leg under the table.
‘Sam, are you lonely?’
Wow. My head snaps up. ‘No one has ever asked me that before,’ I say.
‘I’m sorry if it was the wrong question to ask.’
I take his hand, kissing it gently. My eyes never leaving his.
‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘You’re incredible.’
Will baulks. ‘I just mean?—’
‘No, I mean it. Will, no one has ever read me like you have. Yes, I’m lonely. I’ve been lonely since I moved here.’ I close my eyes. ‘Wow,’ I say. ‘It feels good.’
‘What does?’
‘To tell someone and admit it. I’m lonely.’
‘Now, you’ve got me.’
‘For however many days.’
Will looks back at his menu, smiling. ‘Why do you think you’re lonely?’
There are many reasons why I’ve shut myself off, but one answer comes to me before the rest. ‘I’ve found it hard to make friends here, because I never met someone like you. And then the business. I kind of fell into the routine of work, no play. Like I say, never had any serious lover.’
‘Even though you’re hot?’
‘People don’t think that.’
‘Please, it must be so tough being hot,’ Will says, defusing whatever moment this is. ‘I’m pleased to be blessed with my mediocre looks.’
‘You’re not mediocre,’ I say. ‘What defines beauty, anyway?’
‘Um, literally ancient Greece,’ Will says.
‘No. Seriously. What defines beauty? You find me attractive… I hope?’
This is an afterthought, something I want to know.
‘Hm. Still deciding,’ he quips.
‘Okay. But you don’t like me just for my looks and body, do you?’
‘Undecided,’ Will says.
‘Do you?’ I lean back in my chair.
‘They’re part of my attraction to you,’ Will says, and immediately I realise we are on new ground. We are talking about us. ‘But there’s more to it. To me, Sam, you’re safety. You’re familiar. A missing piece. You’re smart and you’re a dreamer. You’re an optimist, and a bundle of joy. You’re warm, rebalancing my cold pessimism. Excitement I didn’t know I needed. You’re someone telling me that maybe I can feel something other than dread, sadness and God knows what else.’
