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“Your father’s expecting you.”
“Um, yeah.”
Nick laughs pleasantly and leads me into the corridor. As he closes the door on the sitting room, something makes me do a double take.
That’s odd.
At first glance, the walls appear to be blemish-free, but on closer inspection, I see faint rectangles of discolouration in places where pictures used to be. The numerous hooks still embedded in the plaster used to fasten the frames to the walls further support this. It looks as if this room was once filled with paintings but for some reason, Nick has removed them.
“Why did you take down your pictures?” I ask, pointing to the white patches.
“Oh,that,” he answers cheerfully. “I’m having this room repainted, so I’ve put them in storage. Some of my pictures are very old and very valuable, and I didn’t want them damaged.”
I nod approvingly.That makes sense.
“All right, shall we go?” Nick shrugs on his jacket. “It’s getting late, and you’ll want to get some sleep before work tomorrow.”
Smiling, I button up my coat and follow Nick out the house into the dark, wet street. It’s finally stopped raining and the air has a cool, crisp feel. Shivering a little, I walk up to the Jaguar and get in. Almost instantly, we’re on the move, heading in the direction of Clapham Junction. My heart feels light. It’s been such a wonderful evening, and I’m still on a high from all that’s happened. I still can’t believe Nick loves me.
“Let’s have some music, shall we?” he grins, fiddling with the buttons on the stereo. He puts on a compilation of Little Willie John tracks and for the rest of the journey serenades me to a succession of slushy love ballads. His favourite is a song called “Talk to Me, Talk to Me”, which he repeats over and over, like he simply can’t get enough. As he mimes along with the lyrics, it feels as if they were written especially for me, and every time he does it, my stomach turns somersaults. He makes me feel seventeen again. I also make a mental note to download this album from iTunes to keep reliving our magical night.
Before I know it, Nick’s steering the car into my road and I get a sudden pang of nerves. Compared with the grandeur of Pimlico, my street looks decidedly shabby, and I wonder what he’ll think of my home. Following my directions to the letter, he parks across the road from my house. I snap my head up; the lights in the sitting room are on. Dad is still awake, probably working on his manuscript.
For a moment, we sit in semi-darkness, our faces illuminated by the green light from the dashboard.
“So …” Nick sighs.
“So …” I sigh. “I guess this is the part where we say goodbye.”
“I hate goodbyes.”
“Me, too.”
“When do I get to see you again?”
“Anytime you like. Tomorrow?”
He nods vigorously. “Even that seems too far away.”
Suddenly, I’m in his arms again and he’s holding me close, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. But I love it. I feel so protected in his embrace, so warm. Then his lips find mine and he’s eating me out with that insane intensity that makes my head swim.
After what seems forever, he releases me. Tenderly, he strokes my cheek with his thumb, his gaze so penetrating I’m forced to avert my eyes.
“Don’t …” I whisper.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that. It’s embarrassing.”
“But I need to look at you. I need to memorise your face so that when we’re apart, I can recall your image in perfect detail.”
I smother a grin. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine someone saying something so romantic to me. It feels like a fairy tale, like I’m Belle or Cinderella, living the dream in one of my favourite Disney movies. I never want this to end.
After a final, lingering kiss, I unclip my seatbelt and reach out for the door. Then an idea hits me. “Hey, do you want to meet my dad?”
“I’d love to,” he beams.
We get out the car and, gripping Nick’s hand tightly, I lead him across the street to my house. Excitedly, I take out my keys, unlock the door and skip into the entry hall, expecting him to follow. It takes a second for me to realise he’s still standing on the doorstep.
