Page 97 of Never Too Late
‘I do. It’s so inviting and luxurious. It would be easy for a room like this to seem intimidating, or overdone.’ I rephrased. ‘Too formal, I mean.’
He nodded.
‘But this, even with those magnificent lights, it’s… perfect.’
And then I saw it.
‘I hope you don’t mind?’
I felt tears prick my eyes as I shook my head, my throat too thick to speak just now. There, above the stunning fireplace, hungSummer’s Bliss, displayed in a simple soft gold frame, the colour choice reflecting both the sun and the colour of my hair in the painting.
‘It’s part of why it’s my favourite room.’
I nodded, smiled again at that girl in the painting and took his hand.
His smile widened and I followed as we crossed the hall to two other rooms. Originally, they had been one, but as part of the renovations, Tomas had chosen to have it made into two. Not that you’d have known that wasn’t the original design. Everything had been specified to the highest level.
‘I didn’t want to do anything that would take away from the character of the house, or look like it wasn’t supposed to be there.’
‘I’d say it was a resounding triumph,’ I said as he closed the door on the snug. I could imagine him in there, the walls lined with cherry-wood bookshelves and filled with an eclectic mix of classic novels in French, English and Spanish, all the languages he spoke fluently. Alongside them sat contemporary novels, non-fiction books in a range of subjects, a great swathe of history books and an entire case of ones on art and architecture. An original fireplace was settled against one wall. I thought of Tomas on a cold, wet rainy night snuggled up in here, the fire crackling, its golden light highlighting the planes of his face, his expression serious as it always was when he read.
‘Again. Perfect.’
We climbed to the top of the house. Only the attic rooms were above us now. Tomas opened a set of antique white panelled double doors and stood back, allowing me to enter first.
The carpet of the bedroom was as deep and thick as soft sand.
‘I bet this is a nightmare to hoover,’ I said almost automatically.
A faint blush coloured his cheeks. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know.’
The simple and honest reply highlighted the differences between our lifestyles. Both then and now.
‘No, I suppose you don’t.’ I gave him a look. ‘Lucky you. It’s a beautiful room though, Tomas.’ I stayed at the periphery. It didn’t seem quite right to stride into there and nose around. We hadn’t even agreed that we were officially dating. Were we? Did people ‘officially agree’ on that sort of thing these days or was it just accepted? Was it automatically assumed that we were, as the Americans put it, ‘exclusive’ or was it automatically assumed that we weren’t? Did it bother me? Was I getting ahead of myself?
‘Am I going to be invited into the conversation?’
‘Huh?’ My head snapped up and I met his eyes, gold flecks in the deep blue dancing in the low light of the lamps that had illuminated when he flicked the switch at the door.
‘You seemed to be having a very in-depth conversation over there. I wondered if I was going to be invited to join at any point?’
‘Oh!’ I laughed with a hint of embarrassment. ‘Sorry. Miles away.’
Fibber.
‘Really?’
Bugger. That was the thing with old friends. They knew you too well, even when there had been years in between, changes of all kind. The people that knew youreallyknew you.
‘You have very good taste. It’s all beautiful, Tomas.’
There was a pause. He knew I’d avoided the question and, thankfully, let it go.
‘I can’t take the credit for that.’
‘I’m sure you had input with the interior designer,’ I said, stepping from the room and back into the hallway. He followed me and pulled the doors closed behind us.
‘Yes.’
