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“I was seeing someone up until about two weeks ago, but it wasn’t serious. It was however not cool of me to ask you for dinner because she probably would’ve been pissed off about it.”
I bloody knew it.
Staying as casual as possible, I shrug my shoulders. “So there’s nobody you’re seeing right now?”
“No, but hopefully there will be,” he says, and pouts with a hungry look in his eye.
Okay, then. “So, she just wasn’t the one?”
“No, she definitely wasn’t the one, Mirabelle.”
He doesn’t look at me after saying that, maybe because he’s trying to seem aloof, but when I catch sight of him in profile, I notice some colour has risen in his face and he looks even more handsome. I think he’s gone shy because he can’t find any more words.
“All this fresh air has left me feeling so sleepy,” I say, yawning.
“You can rest on the drive back,” he says.
When we get to the car, it’s thankfully unmolested, and we’re soon on our way.
I’m really surprised he hasn’t tried to kiss or hold my hand today, but there have been several shoulder bumps and winks and smiles and him biting his lip.
We barely know one another, but it’s just that… I do like someone who’s quite physical. It makes me nervous when they’re not trying to at least hold my hand.
I have to admit though, Aidan is different to any man I’ve ever known, and it’s so refreshing.
Arriving back in London, it’s early evening and he actually manages to get parked. It must be the amount of people who’ve left for the weekend and gone to the country.
I invite him in and he comes upstairs with me, not saying much. I make us both tea and return to the living room to find him browsing my records.
“You love music, then?” he asks.
“Yes, don’t you?”
“Evidently not as much as you do.”
“I’d die without music. I’d literally wilt and die. I guess that might explain why I stayed in my former job as PA to Sharon Douglas. It was really shit, but then… there was the music. So… put something on, if you like.”
“Oh, sure.”
I finish making the drinks and bring them through, discovering he’s opted for the unmistakable sound of ELO.
“Good choice.”
“I’m sure Mum likes these,” he says, sipping his tea.
“They’re eternal. ‘Eldorado’ is absolutely legendary.”
This is one subject where we might struggle for anything in common, I decide. He doesn’t seem like the type to be able to talk about music. Even Miles, with his head in the clouds, would happily sit and partake while I flipped a vinyl or two. He used to like playing with my hair while we lay listening to music… when he wasn’t on his phone, that is.
“What are you doing on Monday?” he asks, grinning.
“I was going to work, actually. I don’t have to.”
“Work?” he exclaims, incredulous.
“A lot of my clients are American and for them, English bank holidays do not exist.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
