I hunted through the kitchen cupboards for some candles. I’d bought them in case of a power outage: they’d certainly never been used for a romantic interlude with David. I wanted what I’d never had: I wanted tonight to be perfect.
The table looked so pretty, laid with proper linen napkins and decorated with candles and a small posy of flowers that I’d picked in the yard. I headed up to change into the little black dress that Sebastian had helped me choose, and matched it with elegant, suede pumps: I wanted to look beautiful for him.
After I unlocked the kitchen door, I curled up on the couch with a book. I must have fallen asleep again because it was dark when I next looked up. I was shocked to see that it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. Where was he?
The first thing I did was to check my phone, but there were no messages and no missed calls. Uncertainty vied with panic: had something happened to him or had he just had enough of me? I wondered if I should risk calling him. In the end I decided to send a text – just in case. And it was also our more usual form of communication.
* r u ok? I’m worried. *
I sat on the edge of the couch, anxiously waiting for a reply. When I couldn’t take the tension anymore, I stood up and started pacing.
Another half an hour passed and I still hadn’t heard from him. I was pondering the wisdom of getting in my car and going to look for him when I finally, finally heard a soft knock on the door.
I flew into the kitchen, yanked the door open and, to my dismay, I burst into tears when I saw him standing there smiling at me.
“Hey! What’s wrong? I’m sorry I’m late. Don’t cry, Caro. Please don’t cry, baby!”
He held me in his arms, stroking my hair, letting me cry myself out; all the fear and unreasoning anxiety, the stress of having to split myself in half, the intensity of the last three weeks, the hope for more that was so tender and fragile – it all poured out of me.
“Sorry,” I choked out. “I was just so worried. You didn’t answer your phone and I didn’t know how to contact you.”
“We got a flat on the way home,” he said, soothingly. “It took forever for me and Ches to put the new tire on in the dark.”
“I texted you!”
“I couldn’t charge up my phone yesterday: it died on me a few hours ago. I didn’t think it would matter. You were really worried about me?”
I nodded miserably: I felt such a fool getting myself into that state because of a dead phone battery and a flat tire. I wanted to yell, keep your phone charged, you jerk! But I didn’t: I was just glad he was here with me and safe.
He wiped my tears away with his fingers.
“I like that you were worried about me,” he said softly.
He glanced over my shoulder at the kitchen table.
“Is this for me, too?”
I nodded again and tried to smile. “Surprise!” I muttered.
He laughed quietly. “I love it. Thank you. And… you look beautiful, Caro.”
“Red-eyed and hideous is more like it, but thank you for saying so.”
“You always look beautiful to me.”
“Yes, well that must be because you’re wearing those rose-tinted glasses again.”
He sighed and shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was irritated or amused: maybe a bit of both.
“Are you hungry?”
“God, yes! Right now my stomach is thinking that someone cut my throat.”
“They really ought to feed you at work,” I grumbled.
He shrugged. “We were busy. But I’ve got tomorrow off.”
He looked at me expectantly but when he saw my dismayed reaction, his face fell.
“I thought… I just hoped we could spend the day together, but… it’s cool… if you’re busy.”
I swore. He looked surprised; I wasn’t much given to cursing.
“Oh, I wish I’d known! I’ve told Donna I’d go to the family fun day at the beach – you know, the big picnic?”
He scowled. “Can’t you tell her you’ve changed your mind?”
“I wish! But I’ve agreed to take photographs for City Beat, too. They’re counting on me. Oh, Sebastian, I’m so sorry! If I’d known you had the day off…”