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“I’ve missed you so much,” I breathe.
Nick doesn’t answer. He just stares at me, eyes wandering from my face to my dress and then back again, taking in every last detail.
“Wow,” he murmurs, touching the side of my face. “You look absolutely stunning.”
I nod eagerly, too excited to speak. He continues to stroke my cheek, milking a small sigh from my lips. I’m so starved of his love that just one touch makes my head swim.
Reaching down, he gently threads his fingers through mine. With his other hand, he steers us out of my street and onto the main road in the direction of East London. As he drives, his eyes keep flickering back to my legs, a roguish smirk on his lips. I grin broadly, secretly loving all the attention. Being next to him like this, knowing how much he wants me, is the best feeling in the world and I never want it to end. Inwardly, I’m singing; the night is off to a cracking start.
Around a quarter to eight, we reach theSpitalfields Steakhouseon Commercial Street, an inconspicuous building that from outside looks like a disused warehouse.Inside, however, the restaurant is vast and sumptuous, with low ceilings and old-fashioned lamps lining the walls to provide light in the absence of windows.
As soon as we enter, a smartly-dressed waiter checks my reservation, and then leads us through the crowded restaurant to our table at the back. So far, I’m impressed. TheSpitalfields Steakhouse has lived up to its prestigious reputation.
“Wow, what a fabulous place,” Nick comments as we get seated. “What a wonderful surprise. Thanks so much for bringing me here.”
“I’m so glad you like it, darling,” I say. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”
“It’s always perfect when I’m with you.”
We smile warmly at each other.
The waiter hands us two fancy-looking menus and asks for our drinks order. Without missing a beat, I requesta bottle ofChâteau Begadan Cru Artisan Médoc.
“Wow, I’m really getting spoiled tonight,” Nick laughs. “I wonder what other surprises you have in store.”
I smile mysteriously. Averting my eyes, I study the menu. “So, how was Cambridge? I want to hear all about what happened there.”
“Do we really have to? I’d much rather talk about you.”
“There isn’t much to tell.”
“Oh, come on. Humour me.”
I release a sigh. “I just spent every day missing you, waiting for you to get back. It’s been too long.”
“I know,” he agrees. “Each second I was apart from you was agony.” He reaches over, touches my face and I feel myself melting. I take a massive gulp of water to calm my racing heart.
At that moment, the waiter returns with the wine and takes down our food order. Nick hasTamworth pork ribs for starters and a lobsterfor mains. I have blue cheese soup followed by steak with new potatoes. For dessert, we order chocolate fudge sundaes.
“How’s your food?” Nick asks as I plough through my second course.
I close my eyes in rapture. “Tastes divine. How’s yours?”
“Delicious. Why don’t you try some?”
I nod eagerly, and he feeds me a forkful. “Mmm, I wish I’d got that now,” I grin.
We talk for a while about his trip to Cambridge. Apparently, he’d had to meet some people to organise the convention he’s attending in Toronto next June. Meanwhile, I cheerfully update him on the comings and goings at my office: Jill’s gushing appraisal of him, Mark’s argument with Tim, a lost dog we found in the street.
As the waiter takes away our dishes, he gives me a convert wink and my cheeks flush with excitement. That’s our secret code to confirm that everything I agreed with the staff is on track. It’s time to set the wheels in motion and I get a sudden pang of nerves, terrified that something will go wrong.
“Carly, are you okay?” Nick asks. “You look a little agitated.”
“No, I’m fine.”
At that precise moment, the waiter returns with our desserts, and the music changes from soft, tinkling jazz to“Talk to Me, Talk to Me”by Little Willie John, Nick’s favourite song.
He shoots me a look, and I realise then that I’ve been rumbled. He knows I set this whole thing up for him; the song is too obscure to have been randomly selected by the restaurant. Before he can speak, I reach across the table, slip my hand over his and gaze deeply into his eyes. My fingers are shaking, but I know there’s no turning back now. I just have to go through with it. I have to let him know what I’m feeling.
