Page 53 of Never Too Late
‘Was I one of them?’ He held up a hand. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my business, not to mention it sounded far more arrogant out loud than it did in my head.’
‘I don’t know the answer to that, or any of it, if I’m honest. Just one day, I looked up and there was no sign of that girl any more. Absolutely no trace.’
Tomas echoed the wiggle of the head Gabby had done earlier. ‘I’m not so sure. So far tonight, you have put me back in my place a few times, quite rightly, I might add. Not to mention proving you can still pack a punch when required. I don’t think you’re as far removed from her as you think you are.’
‘Well, you bring out the worst in me.’
‘And you bring out the best in me. You always did.’
‘Tomas…’
‘I’m sorry. I know…’ He made a zippy motion across his mouth. ‘As I said earlier, I’ve, how did you used to say? Buggered this up from the start.’
It was impossible not to laugh. The deep timbre of his voice, the undoubtedly sexy accent and the blunt English phrase made unlikely companions.
‘Let’s go and find my sister and Ashok.’ He held out his arm, almost hesitantly, but I wasn’t pedantic enough to reject it. It was likely just as much a shock for him to see me this evening as it had been for me to see him and I had to allow some grace for that. I very much hoped that Gabby and I could rekindle and retain our friendship but Tomas was another matter. But for his sister’s sake, we needed to put the past behind us and move forward.
‘That sounds like a very good idea. I hope there’s wine.’
‘I hope there’s champagne!’
Tomas got his wish and somehow the three of us – Ashok had wisely declined more after a couple of glasses, citing his important meeting in the morning – got through three bottles before the night was over.
‘I’m going to regret this in the morning,’ I told Gabby as she tipped the last dribbles from the last bottle into my glass.
‘Nonsense,’ she replied, waving a hand of dismissal at my words, catching Ashok with a slap across the forehead as she did so. ‘Oh,merde!’ Her hands went to his face. ‘Je suis très, très désolée!’
‘It’s fine,’ Ashok replied, laughter in his voice and admiration in his eyes as Gabby laid her hand against one cheek and placed a kiss on the other.
I shot a look under my lashes at Tomas. He’d always been protective of his younger sister, just as she was of him. He turned his glance towards me at the same time, our eyes meeting as we shared a private smile.
‘You’re not about to challenge my friend to a duel, are you?’ I leant over a little too much as, beside me, Ashok and Gabby fell deep into flirtatious conversation. ‘Oops!’
My elbow slid off the table. Tomas caught my arm and gently tipped me back up. ‘No. I’ve matured a little since those days, although I don’t believe I ever went quite so far as a duel? However, hopeless romantic that I was, I wouldn’t have put it past me.’
‘He’s a good man.’
‘I can see that. Also the fact that he’s clearly a confidant of yours is more than enough recommendation for me. You always were a good judge of character.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I batted back. ‘I chose to go out with you.’
He gave a nonchalant, very French, shrug. ‘Everyone has off days.’
I nodded in agreement, intending for the gesture to be a wise, knowing acceptance, but I was on the verge of one too many now and dangerously close to tipping into nodding dog territory. I rested my chin on my hand purposefully in order to cease the movement.
‘So do you not consider yourself a hopeless romantic any more?’
‘Quoi?’
Ha! Not quite as sober as he was trying to make out. Both he and Gabby had always reverted to their native tongue if we’d been speaking English when they were either angry, frustrated or drunk. I was pretty sure I could rule out the first two and the fact I wasn’t the only one swimming in a pleasant fug of pre-hangover made me oddly happy. I’d always been pretty good at holding my own when it came to alcohol back in the day – practice made perfect – but it had been a long time since I’d practised this well. Not to mention, Tomas had size on his side. He was tall and broad and had been drinking wine from a young age as per the French custom, especially if your family owned a vineyard. I’d done a good job of making up for my slow start during my teenage years and honing the talent when I’d lived out here but there was no denying Tomas’s six foot three frame that held nothing but muscle gave him a distinct advantage.
‘A minute ago, you said that you were a hopeless romantic. Past tense.’ I pointed backwards for emphasis. ‘Does that mean you’re not one these days?’
He mirrored my position and rested his own chin on his hand and looked at me, eyes soft. Although that might have been the wine. At some point between the second and third bottles of champagne, someone had nipped in and fitted a soft-focus filter on the whole world. It was really rather pleasant.
‘No, I would say definitely not.’ He thought for a moment. ‘As I’m sure most of the women I’ve dated would testify to.’
‘Ohhhh! But you used to be so romantic!’ I touched his hand. The sensible part of my brain which had been taking a nap suddenly woke at the contact and gave me a sharp prod. I snatched my hand back. Sensible Me stomped back to the corner. ‘You know… back then.’
