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Chapter Three
Outside the artgallery people greeted each other with hugs and laughter. A group had gathered to watch a clown on stilts, and Beatles songs floated over from a busker on the other side of the square. Alice fought off the tightness in her chest. She just needed to stand still and let the crowds flow around her; breathe in for two and out for a count of three.
She’d texted Aaron to let him know she was standing to the left of the entrance behind a pillar, but omitted any mention of what she was wearing. It was hidden under her old grey coat anyway. A vintage 1950s dress patterned with peacock tails in shades of blue and turquoise and green, cinched in at the waist and with a low neckline (well, low for her). She’d had a fight with Polly over whether to add a scarf, which Polly had said made her look terminally frumpy. Finally, they’d settled on Alice’s strand of freshwater pearls, even though Alice thought they drew too much attention to the glimpse of cleavage that peeped over the neckline.
Reflexively she fiddled with her coat buttons. It was a warm day for the middle of winter, the sun smiling out of a clear blue sky, and already she was hot under the thick fabric. She’d been reassuring herself that she could keep her coat on inside the gallery if she lost her nerve, but not if she was going to melt into a sweaty puddle.
She was checking her phone to see if she’d missed a message when a familiar voice sent shivers scooting down her spine. “Sorry. I missed my train by thirty seconds.”
Suddenly she was engulfed in an Aaron hug. A moment of powerful biceps and hard pecs. Like always, she didn’t even have time to return it properly before it was over.
He pulled back and smiled down at her.
Alice let herself be dazzled. His blond hair had returned to its effortless style, short at the sides, longer at the front so that it fell casually over his forehead, and it was accompanied by a flash of perfect white teeth and oh, those cheekbones!
Did he have any idea just how utterlyregency rakehe was? How wonderful he would look in a cravat, or galloping across a barren moorland on horseback?
No, of course he didn’t.
This was Aaron. The guy who thought Charlotte Brontë wrotePride and Prejudice.
Alice stifled a wistful sigh. “I was a bit worried you wouldn’t find me.”
“Is it too busy?”
She flapped a hand. “No, no, it’s fine, really.”
“If you want to go to a café first, we could come back when the crowds thin out.”
“Thanks, but I’ll cope.”
How could she hate her anxiety when it was how she’d met Aaron in the first place? Head bent over her knees, mid-panic-attack, she’d been huddled on a wall behind the lecture theatre. It was her final exam, and she had been about to blow it spectacularly. She remembered looking up and blinking into the eyes of a guy who’d ducked down in front of her and was asking if she was okay. Something—maybe the deep blue of his eyes, or the lopsided hitch of his lips as he smiled at her—must have stopped her heart for a moment, because when it started again the crazy pounding was not nearly as intense. She’d gasped out something about having an anxiety problem. He’d nodded like he understood, handed her a bottle of water, and stayed until her lungs had finally filled with air.
When she put down her pen three hours later, having written the best essay she could ever remember in her whole three years of English literature, Alice knew this was it.
She’d fallen head over heels in love.
“The line over there looks shorter.” Aaron gestured towards one of the three queues. “I’m paying, by the way.”
Alice fumbled to get her purse out of her bag. She never let Aaron pay; they always split things. “No, you aren’t. Besides, I’m a Friend of the Gallery. I’ll get both with my discount and you can pay me back.”
“Okay then, I’ll buy dinner.”
She was about to protest vigorously when Polly’s voice blasted through her head.“Don’t insist on being politically correct all the time. It’s not sexy.”
“I—er, we’ll discuss that later,” she mumbled.
“No strings attached, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Aaron said quickly.
Alice tried to return a sensual smile. It felt like she’d gone boss-eyed. At least she’d held out against Polly’s insistence that she wear contact lenses; that would have been too much of a makeover. The dress was enough of a diversion from her usual jeans and T-shirt.
Luckily, Aaron didn’t seem to notice her failed seductive look as they exchanged cash and tickets. “Okay, give me your coat and I’ll hand it in.”
“No—I’m fine.”
“It’s really hot in here.”
She shrugged.
