Page 72 of Love at First Sight

We order, we eat, we … talk. Just chat. About the pizza, about the butcher’s shop, a bit more about how Leo is not, in fact, thick, and if he were at school today he’d have been diagnosed way earlier, god bless.

‘Dessert?’ Luigi asks, as he clears our plates.

‘I couldn’t eat another bite,’ I say, but deferring to Leo add: ‘By all means go ahead.’

Leo shakes his head apologetically. ‘This is my second dinner already, so I’m good.Grazie, Luigi.’

‘I could walk you home?’ Leo offers, once I’ve paid our bill. ‘It’s a gorgeous night.’

‘It is,’ I say. ‘The summer has been glorious so far, hasn’t it?’

‘Truly,’ Leo says. ‘I’m only gutted I’ve not been away. I need a holiday, man! Some sun and sea!’

‘Same,’ I say. ‘Maybe in September, when all the kids are back at school. I could get a week in somewhere, I reckon.’

‘Well, bear your old friend Leo in mind,’ he says. ‘Because that sounds perfect.’

I smile. ‘Separate rooms though, yeah?’ I tease, and Leo rolls his eyes.

‘Absolutely not,’ he replies, and I laugh. ‘God I love how you do that,’ he says, as we navigate our way off Church Street.

‘Laugh?’ I say.

‘Laugh atme,’ Leo tells me. ‘I’m, like, addicted to being the one who makes you laugh.’

‘Oh.’ I want to say something wittier, funnier, but I’ve got nothing. ‘You …’ I start, stammering over how to say what I want to say.

‘Me …?’ Leo presses.

‘You … are a nice bloke,’ I settle on, pathetically.

‘Offfft.’ Leo grabs his chest, like his heart hurts. ‘Ouch.’

‘I meant it as a compliment!’

‘That might be worse,’ he says.

I sigh. ‘It’s a good thing,’ I tell him. ‘I find it easy to laugh around you. You make it easier.’

Neither of us speaks then, but Leo slips his hand in mine as we walk, and I let him. It feels good, to be part of a two, to look like the very thing I have so often seen and envied. I look up at him, and he gives me a grin.

Outside my flat we stop, and I sound like the lead in a B-list made-for-TV movie.

‘This is me,’ I say, although by dint of us having stood still I think that might be quite obvious.

Leo nods.

‘All right then,’ he says. ‘Well.’

The way he looks at me, how his eyes roam my face like he’s not sure of his favourite part, like he’s memorising my eyes, my cheeks, my mouth … I find myself holding my breath. Leo.Leo?I can’t have feelings for Leo. He’s a player. A lovely player, but the very definition of a Casanova. I’ve been through so much, and what’s thatfamous quote about insanity? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I can’t keep falling for these men who specialise in emotional infidelity. I have to be better. If I went to therapy this is the sort of thing they’d have a field day with. Anyway. Leo is looking at me, and I like it, and that isn’t a smart thing to like.

‘Thanks again for dinner,’ he says, stroking my hand with his thumb.

I swallow, hard. ‘You’re welcome.’

More staring.

‘I can go slow, you know,’ he tells me. ‘If you need me to.’

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