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The vision of him piling a load of disadvantaged kids into his Porsche makes me laugh.
‘That’s better,’ he says. ‘I don’t know why the idea of me not being able to handle it is funny, but at least it brought a smile to your face.’
His hand isn’t on mine anymore, but his warmth is all around me, comforting me like a warm blanket. I tell him I was thinking of him piling them into the Porsche and this time it’s his turn to laugh.
‘You’re right though. I do want to bring them all home with me. It’s hard not to want that, but as it’s not possible, I do what I can, which is give them a bit of my time and attention.’
‘You amaze me,’ he says.
I’m not the best at receiving compliments, and I feel myself blushing, but his words hug me. I’m embarrassed to ask exactly why I amaze him, so I let the words drift on the air between us and turn to look out the window at the rainy summer’s evening.
He’s undeterred by my reluctance to ask what he means, and he continues. ‘I mean you’ve got your hands full with Daisy, you’re in a foreign country, and you still make time to volunteer at the centre every week. Like I said, you’re amazing.’
My cheeks burn at his effusive praise, but I force myself to look at him. He’s staring at me and if he wasn’t driving, I think he might kiss me.
He looks away abruptly and changes the subject, asking some questions about the centre. When I tell him I’m impressed by the work they do, he says I should speak to his mum about applying for funding from Rochesters Foundation. ‘Mum is always open to hearing about children’s initiatives.’
The thought of asking his mum makes me nervous.
I shake my head to dismiss my silly thoughts and tell him I’m certain that Richard would be thrilled to have backing from their foundation. It’s not fair to let my own insecurities get in the way of an opportunity to help the kids.
‘That’s the guy you were chatting to?’
I nod. ‘Yes, I think he founded the centre.’
He studies my face again for a few beats and then says he’ll talk to his mum about it.
We pull into the drive and the rain is strumming hard on the windscreen.
‘It’s so quiet at home when Daisy’s away,’ he says.
His words startle me. ‘Why, where is she?’ I ask.
He tells me her school friend invited her for a last-minute sleepover after the playdate earlier. ‘I wanted to say no and keep her all to myself for the evening, but she was so excited, and they only live down the road. I couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse,’ he laughs.
‘She’ll have a great time with her friend. They’ve been playing together a lot lately,’ I say, but it occurs to me the house is empty, and Sebastian and I are going to be alone for the first time in ages.
Silence fills the car, and then he says, ‘Don’t move. Wait there until I open the front door, or you’ll get soaked. I didn’t bring an umbrella.’
I sit there, my heart banging, trying to calm my breathing as I wait for him to open the door. He disappears inside for a minute and then reappears. He doesn’t signal to me to get out, but he takes his jacket off and runs out in the rain and opens my car door. ‘No idea where all the umbrellas have gone,’ he says. ‘There’s never one around when you need it. This’ll have to do.’ He holds up his jacket and shields me from the pouring rain as we run inside, laughing, and our heads brush against each other’s.
We remove our wet shoes and there’s another heavy silence as we stare at each other. I don’t want to leave him and go upstairs to shower and get ready for bed, even though I know I should. That would be the way to keep things simple.
‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ he says.
I nod and follow him into the kitchen, finding it difficult to swallow. It’s like there’s a hard knot blocking my throat.
My eyes fall to the kitchen island and memories of the last time we were alone flood into my mind. I wonder whether he ever thinks about that night.
He sets about making the tea and I ease onto a stool and flick through a magazine, but don’t digest any of it. I meet his eyes as he places the cup in front of me and leans against the counter, close enough to touch.
His eyes are on me as I sip the hot tea. I smile at him and try to act as though my heart’s not ricocheting in my chest like a trapped bird in a cage, and I can’t construct one coherent sentence.
We lapse into silence again and focus on the tea.
The air between us crackles and fizzes and I try to think of something sensible to say, but I’ve got nothing.
He’s looking at me now, and I return his gaze until I’m drowning in his gorgeous blue-grey eyes.
