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With a deep breath he left his apartment, phone and keys in his pockets, jacket tugged tight around his waist. He considered a cab, but it was less than a ten-minute walk and honestly, he needed to keep himself moving or he knew he’d start to lose his nerve. He tapped his fingers in a staccato pattern along his leg as he counted his steps to the restaurant.
He was early, at least thirty minutes when he arrived at the doors, and he quickly gave his name at the desk. “Andrew Jones,” he said, using his editing pseudonym.
The hostess checked her computer, then gave him a winning smile. “Your table should be ready in a few. Is it still for two?”
“It is,” he confirmed, “but he’ll probably be later than I am.”
“You’re welcome to wait at the bar if you’d like, and as soon as it’s ready, I’ll take you over.”
Oliver gave her a short nod, then walked over and was greeted by an attractive man with wavy brown hair and soft eyes. He looked Oliver up and down, and it was impossible to miss the glint in his eyes. “You look like you’re in need of a stiff drink.”
Oliver gave a rough laugh, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Am I really that obvious?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said with a chuckle. “It looks like an,I need an extra half shot in my drink on the house, kind of night.”
Oliver almost laughed. The thought of being hit on by the bartender as he was about to reunite with the only person he had ever loved was a bit absurd. But he took it for what it was. “That would be fantastic er…” He glanced at the bartender’s nametag. “Derek. How about a gin martini. Top shelf, extra dirty, two olives.”
“Rocks or up?”
“Up tonight. I don’t need anything cutting my liquor.”
“You got it.” Derek immediately got to work, mixing the drink fluidly. It was almost to the brim of the martini glass, and Oliver took a huge gulp of it, letting out a careful sigh. “You want to talk about it? I’m not exactly overwhelmed with business at the moment, so I can offer a friendly ear.”
Oliver sighed. “You won’t like it.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I think if I offered you my number, you’d take it. And that’s tempting because you’re incredibly fit.”
Derek’s cheeks went faintly pink. “Guess you’re not the only one obvious around here.”
“Ah no, and it’s flattering. But the thing is, I’m about to have a very awkward, possibly very painful dinner with the erm…how does the phrase go? The one that got away?”
Derek’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah?”
Taking a drink, Oliver waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Mm, it’s all terribly complicated, involving me being a complete fucking mess, then having to leave the country, and never giving him a proper goodbye. Or well, the goodbye Ididgive him involved a lot of ripping out hearts and stomping on them.”
“His or yours?” Derek asked, leaning on the bar.
“Fair bit of both, I think,” Oliver admitted. “Let’s just say I pined, and the pining has destroyed any potential for relationships since then. So, as I said, no good for you. Sorry, mate.”
“Not even for one night?”
“Tempting,” Oliver said with a grin, then took another, long drink. “Believe me, it’sverytempting. But I just can’t bring myself to do it. Not even for casual shags.”
Derek sighed. “It’s a shame. You’re really adorable.”
Oliver rolled his eyes a little, but grinned as he bit into an olive. “Ah it’s the accent. Distracts from everything else about me that’s complete and total rubbish.”
Derek laughed loudly this time, then grabbed a napkin and scribbled his number on it. “In case you change your mind. Really.”
Oliver slipped it into his pocket but shook his head. “I won’t, but it’s given me at least a little bit of an ego tonight should I have to endure my ex talking about his happily ever after.”
“Mr. Jones?”
Oliver turned to see the peppy hostess waiting with two menus in her hand. “Ah. Table ready, then?”
“Good luck,” Derek called as Oliver hopped off the stool and took his martini in hand. “If you want me to spit in his drink, just rub your nose like this,” he swiped his index finger over the tip of his. “Just in case he’s got it too good.”
