Page 110 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

While I stare at the blank screen I try to organise my feelings. Jack might not have known who he was giving me advice about but that doesn’t mean he was wrong. Part of me – a part of me that keeps getting louder and louder – knows that there could be something real, something scarily real and serious between Lee and me, but apart from the fact we slept together I have to ask myself what else has changed?

The answer is nothing. I’m still an unemployed single father who has no clue what he’s doing with his life, and she has responsibilities of her own and a life on the other side of the world. Is there even the slimmest chance this won’t end in disaster?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lee

‘So I’m guessing a pizza joint is not a typical Lee Turner-Jones date night,’ Nico says as we look at each other from our vinyl seats across the small table.

I try not to react to him calling this a date.

‘What’s a typical Lee Turner-Jones date night?’ I ask, sipping at my water.

He narrows his eyes, considering. ‘Hmmm. Maybe drinks at a wine bar, one of those fancy tasting menus at a slick London restaurant. Finishing off with a glass of expensive brandy somewhere with moody lighting.’

As this is exactly what Adrian and I did the last time we went out I only shrug hopelessly.

‘But do you know what?’ There’s a glint in Nico’s eye, his lips curl into that devastating half smile. ‘I know you pretty well, Lee Turner-Jones. I think you’ll enjoy this more.’

I feel the answering smile pull at my mouth even as I try to fight it. ‘I think you’re probably right.’

I glance around the pizzeria, which is a bright, cheerful space. The table is covered in a red gingham cloth, and there’s an electric tea light flickering in a glass holder next to our bread basket. Buzzy bossa nova comes over the speakers, and the place hums with conversation as other customers dig into pizzas the size of carriage wheels. There are several families sharing a meal together.

‘I like this place,’ I say. ‘I never got to go to this kind of restaurant as a kid.’ It’s almost impossible to imagine my parents anywhere without actual silverware. Gran wasn’t exactly a fast food enthusiast either.

‘Phoebe had her birthday party here.’ Nico looks haunted. ‘Eleven eight-year-olds. It was like being in a war zone. I still have nightmares. I should warn you we’ll both be dead to her if we don’t take some leftovers home.’

‘She already made me promise I would,’ I say.

Nico barks out a laugh. ‘And me. Did she do the big eyes on you?’

‘From behind the glasses?’ I touch a hand to my heart, shaking my head. ‘It kills me. I’d give her both of my kidneys if she asked me while making that face. Even though I know she’d only sell them on the black market. I haven’t spent a ton of time with kids, but I love hanging out with her.’

‘She’s very into you, too,’ Nico says and leans back in his seat.

‘Do you think so?’ I ask, impossibly pleased.

‘CIAO!’ a voice belts from beside me, making me jump. ‘My favourite married couple!’

‘Hi, Stefano,’ I greet the older man with the salt and pepper moustache whose real name I know perfectly well is Steve, mentally thanking Mei’s flashcards. ‘Is Rosie in tonight, too?’

Stefano beams. ‘She isn’t, but when I saw the reservation I let her know you two were coming and she said to tell you she hopes she’ll see you at craft club on Tuesday. You were a big hit!’

We make small talk for another couple of minutes and then Nico orders a pizza with an irresponsible number of toppings and a bottle of house red, and Stefano disappears back to the kitchen. A short time later we’re digging into the biggest pizza I’ve ever seen.

‘Oh, this is so good,’ I moan. ‘Maybe Stefano is actually Italian?’

‘Stefano is about as Italian as a plate of chicken nuggets,’ Nico snorts. ‘And are you actually going to eat your pizza with a knife and fork? Come on, tidy girl, live a little.’

He holds his slice of pizza out across the table.

‘Sorry for having excellent table manners,’ I scoff, but I lean over and take a bite.

‘Even the way you bite into things is neat.’ He shakes his head. ‘I can see your perfect little teeth marks.’ Under the table his leg presses against mine and I smile.

By the time I push my plate back and away from me, stuffed, my fingers are sticky. I wipe them on a napkin and then extract a bottle of hand sanitiser from my handbag.

When I look up, Nico is grinning at me. ‘Ate a fully loaded pizza with your fingers while wearing a cream top and didn’t spill a thing. A miracle.’