Page 125 of Me and Mr. Darcy

‘You don’t like the Smiths?’ he pleads, tugging at Morrissey’s face.

Instantly I feel myself melt. God, how does he do that? How does he manage to look so adorable with Oral B all down his front?

‘I love the Smiths,’ I admit, twisting my mouth up into a smile.

‘Good girl.’ He nods with satisfaction.

Disarmed again, I look tentatively at Spike, searching for the right way to start saying what I came here to say. But there’s no easy segue into ‘Sorry, I fucked up’, is there?

‘So, what was it you wanted to tell me about Mr Darcy?’ Spike asks.

Since yesterday my mind’s been full of so many things that I haven’t thought about Mr Darcy, but now, just the mention of him makes my chest tighten.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me questions?’ I reply.

Damn. I didn’t come here to talk about Mr Darcy.

‘Well, no, not really,’ frowns Spike, shaking his head. ‘It’s more of a freeform chat.’

Just the way he says ‘freeform chat’ sends a shiver down my spine. How come I never noticed how wonderful his accent is before? I could listen to it all day.

‘Just tell me anything you want to share with my readers,’ he continues, ‘about why he would be so many women’s ideal date.’

‘Well, he wouldn’t,’ I retort.

Spike’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Oh? And why do you say that?’

‘Well, he’s very self-absorbed, and he can be really intense,’ I confide, leaning towards him.

Spike stares at me, and I suddenly realise what I’ve just said.

‘I mean, I can imagine he could be quite intense,’ I correct myself quickly.

‘But I thought that’s what you wanted,’ he says, leaning towards me and making those rhinos start charging around in my stomach again. ‘Didn’t you once say that to me when we were choosing postcards?’ he reminds me.

I feel my cheeks prickle. ‘Um . . . possibly,’ I nod. ‘But I’ve changed my mind.’

‘You have?’

‘Uh-uh.’ I nod again. ‘I was wrong.’

Spike looks astounded. ‘You? Are admitting you’re wrong?’

God, I didn’t think I was that bad.

‘Yep,’ I say firmly. ‘I’ve been wrong about a lot of things, actually.’

Spike’s face is serious. ‘Such as?’

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

‘You.’

He looks at me and makes a sort of ‘mmm’ sound as if to say, ‘Go ahead, I’m listening.’

‘Ernie.’

‘Mmm . . .’