In the Interlude

Chapter 42.2 - A Life of Sundays

Charlotte came by Tom's house around noon. They had made plans to have lunch together, the three of them, in a pub across the Heath.

The place was packed when they arrived, but they were shown to a table in the beer garden as soon as the waiter spotted Tom. A large blue, white and red umbrella shielded them from the blazing midday sun. They sipped drinks and waited for their order.

Charlotte and Tom were deep in conversation. She was telling him about a director who had looked for him at the summer party. Aïcha listened with half an ear as she turned to look around. Families and young couples and little groups of friends chatted happily without giving them a second glance. Tom knew some of the waiters by name. But he was not the only one. A lot of the customers seemed to know the waiters and even each other. This was clearly a local hang-out.

Aïcha didn't realise Charlotte and Tom were talking to her until he gently grazed her arm with his hand, trying to bring back her attention to them. "Charlotte was asking about how we met. Do you want to do the honours?"

"Oh no, please go ahead." She smiled and rested her elbow on the table, propping up her chin.

"Okay then. "And Tom proceeded to tell the story of how they met, more than three months ago in the middle of Holborn Street. "... and she seemed completely lost, rumbling apologies, mixing words in French and English. She was a mess. But a beautiful one."

Tom smiled as Aïcha covered her face with her hands, blushing from embarrassment. He rubbed her shoulders and as he tried to pull away, she squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

"So you didn't meet in the Eurostar?" asked Charlotte as the waiter brought their order.

"No, that was our second encounter." He paused, waiting for the waiter to leave before adding, "Actually, I spotted her as soon as I got on the train. I wanted to ask the hot mess with the cute accent how her appointment went..." He turned his attention to Aïcha. "And you had these pink headphones on and seemed lost in your thoughts. I didn't want to disturb you. But I watched you, embarrassingly for a long time I must say, trying to catch your eye."

"You never told me." Her heart fluttered and fluttered. She had to remind herself that they were in public and that she couldn't show him just how much this meant to her.

Charlotte was glad she came. She had never seen Tom like this. He had told her they were keeping their relationship out of the public eye, but she was rooting for them. Rooting for their happiness, for the beautiful bond they clearly shared. The fondness and tenderness he felt for Aïcha were so obvious in his face.

She smiled as she excused herself and went to the ladies, giving them a moment together.

As soon as Charlotte left, Tom reached below the table and let his hand rest on top of Aïcha's knee. She was sitting crossed legged, the split of her long skirt reaching to her mid-thigh. Their eyes locked. Goosebumps lined her skin under his touch. His index trailed higher and higher, one inch at a time.

"Tom?" she cleared her throat. "What do you think you are doing?"

He huffed out a laugh but didn't stop his hand from wandering. "Oh, darling. Just a little taste of what I intend to do later."

Her lips curved in a wicked smile. "Is that a threat or a promise?" she asked, uncrossing her legs.

God. The things he wanted to do to her. "Oh, darling. You know by now I always finish what I start." He heard her suck in a breath when one of his legs slipped between hers.

God help me. Her face flushed. Her heart raced in her chest. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. An overexcited Charlotte saved her from adding anything else. "Oh mon Dieu! There is a quiz starting in half an hour. And you know what?" She turned to Aïcha taking her hand. "It's French-themed!"