"Jamie," I say in a low voice. "Please move out the way."
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I was just messing around, you know that."
"Please move," I say again.
"Look at me. I'm just joking-"
My fist flies forward and connects with his nose before I can com...
I close my eyes briefly as I remember Brian, my first real love.
"We were madly in love with each other," I begin to explain to Jamie. "I used to work in a hotel, as a receptionist, and that's where I met him. He was so sweet, so kind. Couldn't do enough for me to be honest. Then he started to change; he'd stay out later, come home drunk, he became more distant. Then one evening, we went out to a party and we'd both had a few drinks. He insisted he was safe to drive, and I was too out of it to argue. So we're driving home, it's dark and the roads are busy. He suddenly turned to me and said 'I love you' which, you know, was a normal thing to say, but his voice sounded so different. He almost sounded guilty, like he was asking for forgiveness. The next thing I knew, he was swerving the car and we crashed head on into the front of a shop. Thankfully, not too much damage was done; I broke my arm and he fractured his wrist and broke one of his legs. The car was ruined. We talked about it, after it happened, but I couldn't find it in me to forgive him. I mean, he tried to kill me and, to this day, I still don't know why. I kicked him out and that was that. Haven't seen him since."
"Oh y/n," he says softly. "I am so sorry."
"It's alright," I shrug. "I guess I couldn't bring myself to move on to anyone else, so I adopted Sam."
"So...." He thinks about it for a moment, "does this mean you haven't dated anyone in 8 years?"
"I haven't had a serious relationship with anyone in 8 years. There have been a few small flings of course, no strings attached, but nothing like what I had with Brian."
He squeezes my hand gently in his.
With my free hand I wipe a few tears that escaped down my face.
"Enough moping about me. What about you? Got any depressing stories to share?"
He laughs at that. "Oh trust me y/n, I've got plenty of depressing stories. But for another time though, because we're here."
I hadn't been paying attention to where we were walking so I'm quite surprised when we arrive at a posh restaurant.
Jamie quietly speaks to the person running the front of house, and we're shown to a secluded little table for two on the terrace.
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"I didn't even know this place was here," I tell Jamie, stunned by the beauty of the view.
"Well you're usually too busy making sure I look perfect to stop and look at the nicer areas of town." He winks.
I smirk back and say, "Maybe if you talked less then I could get you sorted out faster."
"Maybe," he agrees and moves closer, "but where's the fun in that?"
I say nothing.
He grins and leans back in his chair, menu in hand, thinking he's won.
"Come on. You've gotta tell me a depressing story."
"Could we get a bottle of red wine for the table please?" He asks as the waiter approaches.
"Of course sir. And are you ready to order or do you need a little more time?"
"A little more-"
"We'll have the gnocchi to share for the starter please, then for the mains we'll have one chicken and leek carbonara, and one smoked salmon."
I just look at Jamie.
The waiter glances questioningly at me, but I shrug and nod at him.
"Absolutely, sir. Madam."
He dips his head slightly to us both before taking our menus and walking away.
"What?" Jamie asks as I stare at him.
"Why did you do that?"
"Do what?" he takes an innocent sip of water.
"I'm perfectly capable of choosing for myself, thank you."
"I don't doubt that you are. But you didn't argue either."
"Because I didn't want to make a scene." I fold my arms over my chest.
"Look," he sighs and puts down his glass. "I've been here before, right? So I figured you wouldn't mind if I chose something I knew you'd like."
"Yeah, yeah. That's fine. You've brought lots of girls here on dates, got it. Not a problem," I grin, teasing him.
