"What did I miss, Amelia? I'm just a bit worried about you," she says, but it's not coming across as genuine. Or maybe I'm just avoiding facing up to it?
"He only got in touch to explain what went down before and to say sorry. The whole dating thing just… well, it sort of happened. It wasn't part of his grand plan."
"Oh, Amelia. I'll give you that he's a dreamboat on paper, with the looks and the dosh, but he's not your Mr. Right. He's probably just playing you again," Bea sighs.
"Wait, let me get this straight," Bri interrupts. "He's fit, loaded, and can have any woman he fancies. Why bother going through the hassle of apologizing and dating her if he's not properly interested? In my book, blokes don't go to that much trouble if they're not keen."
Bea gives Bri a nasty look.
"I'm with Bri," Miranda interjects, catching Bea off guard. Miranda always backs Bea so this is a bit of a curveball. "I mean, he didn't need to reach out at all. And I saw you two at my wedding: he was absolutely smitten with you. Did he tell you why he messed up back then?"
I shoot Miranda a grateful smile before delving into Ben's apology. When I recount how Ben rescued Smutty and then me, the others all sigh with glee. Well, all except Bea.
"I'm not buying it. Sorry, Amelia," she snaps.
"Bea, what's the issue? What's getting under your skin about this? Are you telling me you haven't changed in twenty years? We all made mistakes when we were young. Sure, he messed up big time back then, and it hurt me. I haven't forgotten that. But he's not the same man he was. He's changed."
"Women in abusive relationships always say that." Bea snorts.
"I'm not just any 'woman,' and I'm not in an abusive relationship," I assert, surprisingly resolute. Usually I shy away from standing up to her. "Why are you so dead-set against him being right for me? Is it that YOU think he's too good-looking for me?"
"Of course not," she laughs nervously. "I'm just looking out for you. But if you don't want my advice I won't bother." She theatrically glances at her watch before rising from her chair. "I've got to run. Nice meeting you, Bri," she mutters, barely giving us a glance before storming out of the coffee shop.
We sit there in a shock for a moment before Bri breaks the silence.
"She's watched too many Hollywood high school dramas.”
It was a fun afternoon after Bea left. I think we made a new friend in Bri, and we have already agreed to meet up for dinner in the next few weeks.
And Bea, well, I won’t reach out first this time. Truth be told I’m not sure I want her to reach out either. We’ve have grown apart and maybe we just have to accept the fact that we once were friends but no longer are. Does that make me a cold-hearted bitch or just a realist?
I have a big smile on my face as I unlock the door to Ben’s house and step into the warmth. Noises from the TV drift down the corridor but otherwise there is no sound in the house.
"Ben," I call out whilst toeing off my shoes. He appears in the door to the living room, Smutty right next to him. Both look like they just woke up. Adorable is not a strong enough word for them.
“Did you nap with Smutty?” I smirk.
“No,” he replies, trying to look innocent. “I fell asleep watching the game.”
“And Smutty?”
“Fell asleep on my chest,” he grins before pulling me into his arms for a kiss. Oh wow, and what a kiss it is. He pushes me up against the wall and nips and sucks on my lips like there’s no tomorrow. When he takes a step back I feel woozy.
“Good afternoon with the girls?” he asks as he pulls me with him into the living room, Smutty hot on our heels because he hasn’t received his pats yet.
“I made a new friend,” I reply, nuzzling Smutty to my chest. His purring has its usual relaxing influence on me. “So, tell me, the date tomorrow. What are we doing?”
“Top Secret,” he grins. “But wear a nice dress.” He winks.
Oh, the wink again. He is killing me.
21
Serenade No.13
Amelia
I fidget as the car travels along the A23 towards Brighton. I'm so excited. Ben’s not just taking me on a date: he’s taking me on an epic date. It took me a bit more probing and a lot of kissing to finally get it out of him. But in the end, he cracked and spilled the beans.
We are going to a candlelit concert of my favourite composition by Mozart. I can't believe it, but he remembered how much I love “Eine kleine Nachtmusik.” I'm not generally a classical fan but Mozart is my go-to music when I need to calm down after a busy day.
"We should be there in half an hour, sir." I bite back my giggle when Omar addresses him as sir. Suddenly the word has a completely different feel to it. Ben eyes me and winks. I'm sure he knows exactly what’s going through my head.
"Thank you, Omar," he replies. I straighten my dress a bit. I have been working from home as it’s Friday and sneakily booked in a two-hour meeting with Samira at the end of the day, which I used to model different outfits for her on Zoom. I’m not a girly girl by any stretch of the imagination so my wardrobe is limited, but eventually I found a dress I wore three years ago to someone's wedding and by a miracle it fit and actually looks quite sexy. It’s black, has an A-line skirt, and shows just enough of my chest to transform it from dreary to daring. I also played around with a chiffon scarf and used it to tie my hair back in a way that looks playful but elegant (Samira’s words). When Ben, who had been at the office all day, picked me up from his house, he almost dragged me off to the bedroom for a quickie, which I took as a good sign.
Ben's hand is gently stroking my knee. I’ve already had to push his hand back down twice because it was wandering up under my skirt and I won't let him finger me here, right next to his driver. We are only in an SUV after all, not a limousine where we can shut ourselves away. I peek at the books on the passenger seat next to Omar.
"What are you studying?" The titles of the books don’t sound familiar.
"A Master’s in Development Studies, I'm in my last year," he confirms with a proud smile on his face. I try to judge how old he is. He doesn't look much younger than we are.
"That's so exciting."
"I think so. Lots of people don't understand why I started to study this late in life, but I believe it's never too late to do the things you want," he grins.
"Couldn't agree more," Ben mumbles. I look at him but his gaze is directed at the window. Did he mean us or the direction he’s taking his company in?
When we reach Brighton Pavilion my jaw almost drops like in one of those silly cartoons. I had heard about the building but had never seen it in the flesh, so to speak. Talk about a place that screams 'fancy.' The sparkling white minarets and domes give off serious fairytale vibes, making me wonder if I've accidentally stepped into a magical realm. The building looks like an Indian or Oriental palace and carries an air of One Thousand and One Nights. We stop at the entrance to the garden, and I'm sure in the summer it’s filled with flowers. Now, at the end of February, it's almost bare, with the odd spring flower coming through, but it’s not difficult to imagine the place in bloom.
