The Way Back | ✓

4.1

note: welcome to part 4! I've been busy with uni work that I almost forgot to update. A short chapter but I hope you like it! Please don't hesitate to drop your thoughts in the comments and vote if you enjoyed the chapter <3 

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Dinner was ready and the table had been set out. 

All that was left was for London to get cleaned up for her date. She glanced at the clock and gasped when she saw that there was only half an hour before Andrew was expected. She rushed to her room and stripped instantly when she got to the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom her nerves were all over. She was excited and nervous. She was looking forward to having some personal time with Andrew. This time was different. This time it was a date.

She exited the bathroom, heading straight for the closet. It took what seemed like forever to find an outfit but when she was finally satisfied in a short polka-dotted printed dress with black stockings she eagerly moved onto makeup. She kept it light — a thin layer of her favourite rouge lipstick, some blush and a thin line of eyeliner.

When the doorbell rang she jumped, having gotten lost in the time with making herself look presentable. She capped the eyeliner and took one last look at herself. Her black hair was down, soft straight hair brushing against her shoulder. The dress was long-sleeved and hugged her body warmly. She looked beautiful. She felt it. Confident, she took a deep breath and turned on her heel, walking to her front door. She buzzed him up and when he knocked on the door, she couldn't control the smile that took over her lips as she opened the door and faced him.

He had shaved, was the first thing she noticed. The usual stubble that dusted his chin was absent and though London had often found stubbles and beards attractive on certain men she could not deny that, subtle or not, Andrew looked hot. He was wearing a button down shirt, a jacket and brown trousers. It was a look that worked well for him and London was not sure what had suddenly switched on in her but she felt a little flustered.

"Hey," she breathed, mentally berating herself for sounding the way she did. "Come on it." She welcomed him and he handed over a bottle to her. One glance at it and she was beaming. "This is going to go great with dinner."

"My tastes can always be trusted," he winked and she laughed.

He removed his shoes at the doorstep and she took his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack that was right to the shoe rack at the entrance.

"So," she said spreading out her arms, "This is my place. It's not much but it is located in the higher end of Porte Orlands so yeah, rent's a bit pricier."

He smiled at her. "It looks very homey."

"You can take a look around. I'll be right back," she said smilingly. He nodded and she turned to the kitchen. Once she was in there she let out a breath as she tried to collect herself. What had gotten into her? It wasn't like she hadn't done this before and yet this date was making her nervous, her stomach doing weird things — was this what that phrase having butterflies in your stomach meant? Because god, the feeling was making her slightly anxious but excited at the same time, the emotional combination rather strange to be experiencing that she felt thrown off herself. And she was experiencing this just after seeing him. How was she going to get through the entire dinner?

Not that she wanted to back away. Far from it. She liked Andrew. She truly did. She liked his smile, she liked that he was raw and not selective about sharing when he talked to her. His personality had definitely caught her eye. She was curious. She wanted to know. She wanted time with him — time to discover everything that made him Andrew Cai.

She took out two of her best wine glasses and took them along with the bottle out of the kitchen, heading to the quaint dining room. She had candles out, hoping to make the air more romantic though she wasn't too sure she was trying too hard. She hoped that he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

London found him looking at the frames of pictures of the happy moments in her life that was on one end of the living room, a step away from the television. He seemed to be thinking of something as she walked behind him, peering over to see which photo he was looking at. Her heart gave a little jump, her smile toning down when she glimpsed the picture.

"That's my mother with my sister," she said, shocking Andrew out of whatever daze he was in. "My sister got into a car accident driving home the first time she went to uni. She felt homesick and drove from here back to London, late at night. Thankfully, it wasn't anything major. She wasn't hurt much and neither was the other driver. She did have to stay overnight at the hospital for a few more check-ups. My mother worried a lot."

"That's what mother's do," Andrew said, "They worry."

She turned to him raising her eyebrows. "You sound like you're reflecting this or something."

"I'm just thinking that Talia might be so strict over my visitation rights because she's worried," Andrew admitted sheepishly like he didn't expect their first conversation for the night to be about his ex and his child. Neither did she but she did not shy away from it.

"There's nothing to worry about," she told him earnestly, "You sound like you care so much about your daughter. You understand that she needs her mother just as much as she needs her father. You're doing a great job, Andrew."

When his fingers brushed hers, she shivered. The touch was unexpected, soft and gentle, that her heart seemed to have stopped for a split second. "This weekend started off pretty badly I'd say," he said, smiling, the light in his dark eyes glinting with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

She took a bold step and slipped her hand into his. She didn't know what she was expecting but she was still surprised to find his hands rather calloused, and yet feeling wonderfully warm against her own. "What you do need," she suggested, her voice lower as she tugged him in the direction of the dining room, "is dinner."

"Time for me to judge that horrendous cooking," he joked.

"You're terrible."

"Why, thank you, ma'am," he replied smoothly, his tone laced with humour.

Laughing she dragged him to the dining room. The expression that was on his face after he dug into his food told her that he loved her horrendous cooking and there was no other way she would wanted this first date go.

"Manmanchi," he had said smilingly, before he took his first mouthful.

"What does that mean?" she had asked, curious to know what he had said in Mandarin.

"It directly translates to eat slowly but it's basically like saying bon appetit or enjoy your meal," he had told her.

And that's what they did. Andrew complimented her cooking — she'd picked Chinese cuisine since the flavours were the only thing she had that linked to her heritage. Being a third generation immigrant and having never been to China, London had never felt quite Chinese though she wanted to. She even wanted to learn the language but she was never good at languages. What she was good at was cooking and that's was how she found her connection.

They ate slowly, enjoying the meal, with Andrew making some comment about the food that left her grinning from ear to ear.

Taking their time, they talked and ate, and the whole world seemed to fall away.