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‘It’s a mural, a declaration of our love and, not only that, but you were right, this house is all you, I haven’t been here, I haven’t done anything – apart from those floorboards, and I royally fucked those up. So this is my contribution, to make this place mine too, to show you that I’m in it for keeps this time, and that I want to contribute, I want to make my mark, to see my own improvements and changes.’
‘You’re out of your mind,’ I tell him. ‘The first improvement you can make is changing that wall back to being pink. There’s some paint left, in the shed I think, I’ll get it for you before I go.’
‘Billie, no, you don’t understand, it’s to show you that I love you,’ he insists. ‘I had such a wonderful time last night with you, your mum, and Jess – I’m even getting on with your dad. I want to be a part of this family again.’
‘Fine, leave it there, you’re the one who has to sleep next to it, but make the most of the image because it’s the closest thing you’re going to get to the two of us ever getting back together.’
‘Can we just talk about this, please?’ he asks.
‘No, I’ve got a date,’ I inform him. ‘And I’m not going to let this ruin it.’
I try to keep my cool as I leave the room. I can paint over this myself, later – I’m not the one who is going to have to look at it in the meantime.
The problem isn’t the paintwork, that can be fixed, I’m good at fixing things like that. The problem is Declan, and his claim on this house, and his desire to suddenly become a part of everything. I wanted that a year ago, but he wasn’t interested. Now, when I want him to piss off, he’s working overtime to reassert himself as man of the house.
What I refuse to do right now is worry about it, I’ll do that later, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him ruin my date with Rocco for me, even if he is trying to ruin my life.
28
When Rocco said he was arranging a dinner date for the two of us, I figured he would book somewhere impressive, maybe somewhere expensive, or pull some strings to get us in somewhere exclusive. He had been messaging all day, talking such a big game, that I dared to look forward to something wonderful. What Rocco has delivered is beyond my wildest dreams.
Rocco was waiting for me outside his hotel, on the bank of the Great Stour, at the side of a boat. I just laughed when I saw him. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how a small boat factored into our dinner plans.
‘And which restaurant is this boat taking us to?’ I asked through a smile. ‘Surely it’s too small to be eating on.’
‘It is taking us to several restaurants,’ he replied. ‘Tonight, I want you to have nothing but the best, so we’ll be heading to one restaurant for the starter, another for the main course, and then one final location for dessert. And they’re all along the river so I thought, why not? Let’s take a boat. We even have our own personal boat chauffer, so you don’t have to worry about me sinking us.’
Romantic and funny. You just don’t see creativity like that when it comes to first dates any more – well, not that this is a first date in the traditional sense, but you know what I mean.
Our starter, at Fred’s Fish Bar, our first location, was salmon, lightly coated in lemon and black pepper breadcrumbs, served with a sweet chilli salad. Fred’s was a place I’d never eaten before – it’s decidedly more boujee than its name suggests, and of course Declan would always refuse to go anywhere that specialised in fish.
Next up it was back on the boat, to the White Rabbit, where we’re currently enjoying our main courses: barbecue chicken with pineapple in a brioche roll, with sweet potato fries and pineapple fritter on the side.
I love that Rocco took the time to find out what the most praised dish from each eatery was, and while he did give me the option to have whatever I wanted, I was excited to go with his recommendations. So far, both have been absolutely fantastic.
‘Pineapple fritters are my new favourite thing,’ I announce, practically groaning, and speaking with my mouth full, which I know you’re not supposed to do but I don’t want to break from eating, not even to speak. ‘I don’t know where they’ve been all my life.’
‘I’ll never understand why pineapple is so divisive in savoury food,’ Rocco replies. ‘Or why people get so upset.’
‘Have I just passed a test?’ I ask through a smile.
‘You’ve passed two,’ he replies. ‘Seafood and pineapple. To be honest, it’s not really something that bothers me, but it’s no fun going for food with someone who doesn’t like to eat anything.’
‘Things I don’t like to eat…’ I say thoughtfully. ‘Too much coriander can ruin a dish for me. I can take or leave green beans. I don’t like duck, that’s a firm no.’
‘That’s an okay list,’ he replies. ‘It doesn’t rule out any cuisines. There are only two foods I absolutely cannot stand. Kiwis and cauliflower cheese.’
‘Oh, I love cauliflower cheese,’ I reply.
‘Have I just failed a test?’ he asks.
‘I’ll let you off,’ I say seriously. ‘This time. Cauliflower cheese is one of my mum’s specialities – it’s genuinely one of the highlights of Christmas dinner, I can’t wait.’
‘For me, it’s my mum’s parsnips or – hear me out – my dad’s sprouts.’
‘Sprouts?’ I squeak.
‘He cooks them in honey and bacon,’ he explains. ‘So they’re sort of sweet and, well, bacon-y.’
