Page 10 of The Life We Almost Had

This is not a date.

‘So.’ Adam’s voice led me back to the present.

‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ I took another drink. Put down my glass and fiddled with the edge of my napkin. Why was I so nervous?

‘Don’t judge me, Anna, but…’ Adam took a deep breath. ‘I’ve already chosen my dessert.’

I laughed. ‘Me too. Limoncello and plum tart.’

‘Snap. I knew there was a reason why I like you. Not likelike,’ he added quickly. ‘Not…’ Now he played with his napkin.

‘To friendship?’ I raised my glass and we chinked, but our eyes met and an unspoken toast passed between us, to the future versions of ourselves and even then, on some level, I knew that in the days to come, weeks, months, years, our lives would be bound together.

‘Tell me about yourself, Anna Adlington.’

The arrival of a platter of bread and dips gave me time to think. What did I want him to know? Everything and nothing.

‘I’m an English teacher.’

‘Primary?’

‘Secondary.’

‘You like a challenge then?’

I met his gaze. Is that how he saw me? Fearless? Brave?

‘I do like a challenge.’ Did I? Was I flirting? I carried on. ‘My dad is a teacher.Was. Was a teacher.’

Adam studied me. He could have assumed my dad had changed professions or retired, but somehow he justknew.

‘I’m so sorry, Anna. Do you want to talk about him?’

One thing I’ve learned is that grief makes people uncomfortable. Loss is a subject to be changed, skimmed over in case death is catching. Nobody wants to think about it. Talk about it. Question their own mortality. Yet Adam had covered my hand with his and was unflinching in his gaze. I knew he was seeing more of me than anyone else here could.

‘Thanks, but no.’ I drew my hand away but I could still feel the warmth of his skin. I coiled my fingers around the cool stem of my glass when all I really wanted to do was to thread them through Adam’s.

‘Anna,’ he said softly. ‘I—’

‘For you, señorita.’ The waiter placed a steaming plate of paella in front of me. ‘Señor.’

The tension broken, I picked up my fork. ‘I love this Mediterranean food so much.’

‘Me too.’ Adam speared a prawn. ‘Josh’s parents took us to Barcelona for a week after we’d passed our A Levels and when we got home I made paella.’

‘Was it good?’

‘I didn’t realize rice expands so I chucked in the whole packet – not just any packet, a huge one from a cash and carry. I was eating the bloody thing for about a week but by then the seafood had gone off and… It wasn’t pretty, let’s just say.’

I laughed. ‘It hasn’t put you off eating it though?’

‘Nothing would put me off my food. What’s your favourite thing to eat?’

‘Ice cream. You?’

‘Pringles. Once you pop.’

It was easy to talk about the inconsequential, ignoring the spark between us. I wasn’t sure if Adam could feel it too. He told me when he was growing up, he was obsessed with Eighties music and films.

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