style="font-size:15px;"> ‘What now?’
‘Well, it’s good for me, of course, problem solved for the dinner and dance. But for you… you are being taken for granted! Big time.’
She felt her temper strain madly at its leash. This was rapidly becoming a character assassination of Ed and she wasn’t going to take it lying down. ‘I don’t see that,’ she countered coldly. ‘Surely it’s a positive thing that he’s being so reasonable.’
‘Aha! That’s where you’re wrong.’ He leaned in close to her suddenly, grabbed her wrist and looked into her eyes. Her stomach made a sudden unexpected flutter and she felt her pulse increase. She ignored it, assuming it must be part of the effort required to keep her temper from flaring. ‘Lucy, if I was in a relationship with you, lovely you, I would not let you go on a date with any other guy but me. I wouldn’t care whether he was your friend, if he was gay, whatever.’
She looked into his eyes. Clear slate grey filled with nothing but genuine love and concern for her. The pit of her stomach felt warm and soft suddenly, like melting chocolate. She felt the tiny spark of a long-forgotten memory, almost there and then gone again. Her mind felt adrift, as if sand had suddenly shifted below her and she was no longer standing firm. What the hell is this? Grappling for self-control, she focused hard on her train of thought.
‘He used to be like that when we first met,’ she protested in a small voice. ‘He couldn’t stand the sight of you.’
‘There you go.’ He released her hand and sat back with a triumphant nod, grabbing his wine glass as he went. She felt an odd sensation of loss and put her hand in her lap to compensate. ‘He’s got used to the fact that you will always be here, you’ll never look at anyone else, no one else will ever look at you…’
‘Hey!’
‘I’m not criticising you, Lu, I’m just telling you that he’s got complacent. He’s taking you for granted. No need to make an effort because he counts on you always being here. Stopped working at it, hasn’t he? That’s the key.’ He was nodding his head emphatically.
‘What is?’ She was rapidly losing the point of this conversation. Hadn’t it been to focus on the positives of her relationship? Instead he seemed to be implying that Ed was coasting along and taking her for granted. Just what was going on here?
‘He thinks he’s got it all sewn up. He doesn’t need to propose to you because he’s already got you. What we need to do is shake that perception up a bit. Make the ground shake a little bit underneath him. Make him realise how fabulous and gorgeous you are and that he has to work to keep you.’
That sounded a bit more like it. ‘OK, so how do we do that, Sherlock?’
‘You need to move the goalposts,’ he said firmly. ‘One of the things you can do is see a bit more of me. Get him to miss you a bit. I’m the winner then, too, because I get to spend a bit more time with you. I’ve missed you since you moved out.’
The warmth in her stomach bubbled back up again and she took a hefty slug of wine to stop it. That strange sense pervaded her again, of falling backwards in time. She shook her head as if to clear it. Of course, she assured herself firmly, it was perfectly normal to feel nervous and emotional. She was sitting here planning her future, after all.
‘Have you?’ She’d missed him at first, too, after she’d moved out of his house. It had been lovely seeing him every day for those few months after her arrival in Bath.
‘Yes.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘The house has a more relaxed look about it without your obsessive tidying and I get to keep the remote control to myself. But I kind of miss having a fridge full of proper food and coming home to someone. I liked talking to you every day.’
She took another glug of wine and reminded herself that this was Gabe she was talking to. Her best friend with her best interests at heart. He wouldn’t be trying to assassinate her relationship; he really was only trying to help, which, after all, was what she’d asked him to do. ‘Aww, that’s sweet. Bit of a backhanded compliment though. And “relaxed” isn’t a word I’d use to describe your hovel. You’ve got a nerve criticising Ed’s domesticity.’
‘This isn’t about me, though, is it? And anyway, backhanded compliments are the best kind. I’m saying I wish you still lived with me despite all your faults. Not the same as wanting you to change.’
‘Hmm, I suppose so,’ she said grudgingly.
He refilled her glass, then his own. ‘So you agree on how to proceed? Excellent. Why don’t you come to lunch with my parents this Sunday? They’d love to see you. They’re always asking about you.’
‘You mean go back to Gloucestershire?’ She felt a vague sense of unease and squashed it. She generally avoided going back to her home county, as if the new life she’d built since leaving would somehow be challenged by revisiting her old one. Her parents were long gone from there, of course, but the memories wouldn’t be.
‘Of course. Sunday roast. Not cooked by you. Sound tempting?’ He grinned at her expectantly.
She debated to herself. She knew she should put an end to the avoidance of anything relating to her childhood. She was an adult now and could recognise it for what it was. Maybe going back to Gloucestershire would do her good—she could lay a few ghosts, and she had to admit he had a point about Ed. Wasn’t absence meant to make the heart grow fonder? They had fallen into a bit of a rut recently, doing the same things on the same days.
She gave in. ‘It does sound tempting. And I suppose you could be right—perhaps Ed needs to miss me a bit.’
‘He definitely does. He needs to appreciate you a bit more and feel like he’s lucky to have you and he ought to snap you up officially just to make sure. He feels too sure of you, that’s the root of the whole thing. And in the meantime, we’ll have a look at your appearance and see what we can do with that. And I need to observe you out together socially.’
Lucy looked doubtfully down at her plain T-shirt and jeans with a vague but undeniable feeling of dread at the idea of Gabriel analysing her wardrobe. In an attempt to divert him she latched onto his second suggestion. ‘No problem. We’re all meeting up tomorrow night at that new wine bar on George Street. You could come along if you like. Do all the observing you want to.’
‘Who’s we?’
‘Ed’s friends,’ she said. ‘Well, mine, too, of course. There’s Digger and Yabba, and their other halves, Suzy and Kate. Probably one or two others—it varies depending on who’s free.’
‘Digger and Yabba,’ Gabriel repeated. ‘They sound like rejects from some kids’ TV show.’
Lucy laughed. ‘That’s their nicknames. No one in Ed’s friendship group is called by their proper name. It’s a man thing. Even Ed isn’t his real name.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Gabriel said with sudden interest. ‘What is his real name?’
‘Roland,’ she said, expertly ignoring Gabriel as he almost choked on his wine with a sudden snort of laughter. ‘Ed is some schoolboy name to do with heading a football or something. I’ve never questioned it because frankly Roland is awful and Ed suits him far better.’
Gabriel shook his head in mock wonder. ‘There’s
