Page 9 of Paper Roses

Jed smiles at me. “Let’s sit down. I’m starving. I never got a chance to eat tonight, and I know you didn’t.”

I follow him to a table and he pulls out a chair for me. It’s one of those innately courteous things he seems to do unconsciously. He’s a gentleman down to the soles of his Santoni shoes.

He sits down opposite me, his knee bumping mine. His body heat seeps through the expensive tailoring of his suit trousers, and I control a shiver of awareness as he hands me a menu. “The chicken printanier is very good,” he offers. “But you can’t go wrong with anything here.”

Someone calls his name, and his face breaks into the big, wide smile he doesn’t wear often. It lights up his face, makinghis eyes look very green. He stands up just as a young woman barrels into him. He hugs her, chuckling. “How are you, Moira?”

She’s blonde with a heart-shaped face and her head barely reaches Jed’s shoulders. “I’m fine, Uncle Jed. How are you?”

“Moira owns the bistro,” Jed explains to me and turns to her. “Moira, this is Artie.”

The name rings a bell for some reason, but I can’t work out why. “Nice to meet you,” I say, aware of her eyes busily taking an inventory of me.

“Artie? Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Have you?” I ask, startled to see a slight flush on Jed’s cheekbones.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your date,” she says, her smile charming. “It’s just that I haven’t seen Uncle Jed for ages.”

“Oh, it isn’t a date,” Jed says immediately.

Try as I might, I can’t help the pang of disappointment that hits me. I wonder when I’ll ever stop feeling it.

“Really?” She looks between us and then chuckles. “Oops. It just looked like one. Sorry.”

I force my feelings down and smile at her. “No need to apologise.”

“I’ll take your order while I’m here, though.”

“How are you doing?” Jed asks. “Business looks good.”

“It’s brilliant, thank you. Are you coming for Sunday lunch this week? I know Dad’s been texting you.”

“I think so. I’ll phone him later. We’ve just been at a wedding.” He turns to me and says, “Moira, here, is my goddaughter.”

The name finally clicks in my memory bank. “Ah, I remember now. Her dad is your best friend, isn’t he?

He nods. “He was my partner when I was on the force. We came up through police college together.”

“He still misses you,” Moira tells him. “He says no one talked as much sense as you.”

“He should come and do a talk at my agency on the subject.”

I chuckle as she takes out her notepad.

“I’ll have the honey-glazed pork medallions with dauphinoise potatoes, and a glass of chardonnay,” Jed says.

I nod. “That sounds good. I’ll have the same, thank you.”

She pats his shoulder. “I’ll send someone over with your drinks.”

She bustles away and a silence falls. Jed shifts the salt and pepper shakers, pushing them together neatly, and then stacks the napkins. It’s only when he straightens the tablecloth that I realise he’s nervous.

“Are you okay?” I blurt out.

He looks up, startled, and his green eyes look almost gold in the low light. “I’m fine,” he says. He hesitates and then says abruptly, “I’d like to know about your wedding. Have you been seeing your fiancé a long while? You never said you were seeing anyone.” The pause is a beat too long. “Would you like me to organise it for you? It would be free as an employee of Confetti Hitched.” He licks his lip. “A very valued employee,” he adds softly. “And?—”

Without thinking, I place my hand over his, cutting off his tumble of words. A beat of silence drops, and then he removes his hand and scratches his eyebrow awkwardly. For a second, his gaze seems to focus on my mouth, but he glances away when a waiter approaches our table.

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