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I touch the tattoo on my wrist on instinct, and he notices. It’s an almost cringeworthy design – a loop of infinity in black and floaty pastel pinks that I had done about my love for Jack when I was twenty. I’m only grateful I didn’t have his name put on it.
“I asked you what your tattoo was about when we were in bed together,” Ant comments. “You covered your eyes and said it was too embarrassing to answer.”
I laugh, having no recollection of him asking me that. “Yeah, it is. I’ve thought about having it covered up with another one many, many times.”
“About an ex, is it?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“I guess you thought it was a permanent relationship to make such a permanent statement?”
“Yes, I thought it was.”
He doesn’t push it, switching back to my life in Bucklebury in general.
“It’s got to be tough, having everyone so far away now you’ve moved here?”
“Praise be for video call, hey? I miss them all so much.”
“How come you switched branches to Worcestershire?” he asks. “Fancied a change of scene?”
“Yeah. Just a change, you know?”
I don’t tell him about my history with Jack, and how I felt I’d exhausted my options in such a small place around the same crowd of people – the same crowd that whispered behind my back. The same crowd that made me feel ashamed at being dumped for sexy Susie.
“Good choice,” Ant says. “Malvern is a great town.”
“Is this where you come from?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Nah, I’m from London. You must be able to tell from the accent?”
As soon as he’s said it, I register the hint of cockney under the posh overtone.
I don’t get time to ask him any more questions before he turns the attention back around to me.
He asks about Newton House and how I’m enjoying living there, and asks about my interests around my career – even joining in with approval when I tell him how I love sitting in my PJs watching old movies.
The waitress comes back over and I give in to the temptation of one single drink. I ask for prosecco but he interjects, telling the waitress I’ll have the finest champagne. De Chante, no less.
Shit, I don’t know how I’d even offer to split the bill now, but it seems I won’t need to.
“One thing you need to know about me,” he says. “I always pay for things. If you’re out with me, we’ll always have the finest, and we’ll never be splitting the bill.”
I get the feeling he won’t take no for an answer.
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“I insist.”
“Thank you very much,” I reply. “I’m very grateful.”
“No need to be grateful.” He smiles. “It’s my honour.”
We’re on dessert and I’ve had one single glass of champagne when he asks me a question I’m not quite expecting.
“Where does your passion for wedding planning come from? I mean, I’ve seen those reviews for the Berkshire site and your name is always mentioned, about how wonderful you made people’s special day. So I’m guessing it’s a great passion of yours.”
I find myself blushing, and thankful that those reviews really are great ones.
I shrug, trying to make light of it. “Since being little, I’ve always had a thing for fairy tale romance. I love it when princesses meet their princes and walk down the aisle. I love helping people to enjoy their special day. So yeah, it’s a passion of mine.”
“Ah, I see,” he says. “Does that apply to yourself, too? Do you want a big, dream day of your own one day?”
Now or never.
I nod. “Yeah. Definitely.”
“Nice,” he says, and the champagne gives me enough confidence that I do it. I ask him a question I need to know.
“How about you? Have you never wanted a big, dream day of your own? How come you haven’t got a beautiful wife waiting at home for you? Have you ever had one?”
He takes a sip of mineral water then looks me right in the eye.
“I’d happily have a big, dream day of my own, if only I could find the right woman to share it with. It’s something I’ve always been looking for, but never found.”
I’m flying high as I take another gulp of champagne. It’s great knowing he’s the kind of guy interested in a serious relationship. The dreamer in me is loving every second, even though it feels ridiculous.
“How old are you, by the way?” Ant asks. “Ready to invest on the commitment front?”
“Twenty-nine, approaching thirty, so definitely ready to invest on the commitment front.” Another gulp of champagne. “How about you? How old are you? You make an incredible silver fox. How many years has it taken you to be one?”
He gives me a cocky smile. “I’m forty-two. The grey has claimed me pretty young. Good that it suits me.”
