Willow was now feeling a little frosty about Emma too. Perhaps she should have been more assertive and told Emma that she and Charlie had a fantastic sex life. She wondered what Emma would have said if she’d divulged the whippy cream details.
“Whippy cream? You mean you let Charlie squirt the stuff all over your nipples? Are you kinky? You’ll be telling me he puts mayonnaise or tomato sauce on them next.”
Thinking about tomato sauce immediately made Willow remember Noah’s silly joke about ketchup. She grinned at the recent memory. But Willow’s smile faded when she recalled Emma homing in like a heat-seeking missile with the suggestion that she have a date with her twin. Willow fidgeted uncomfortably. She’d have to watch herself in future. It was one thing feeling that zinggg of chemistry with someone, but quite another to let it show on your face.
Willow didn’t like to admit to herself that Emma’s nosey question had lodged in her brain. Even worse, it had started to fester. The reality was that Willow’s sex life was mostly infrequent. She’d never dared complain to Charlie, because she knew he worked so hard and was invariably tired. Nor could Willow quite reconcile the Charlie she knew, to the Charlie in the last week or so. It was like someone had kidnapped her boyfriend, given him a massive testosterone injection, then returned him to her with a sky-high libido. Suddenly Charlie couldn’t get enough of her. Why had he changed? She had no idea.
‘Darling?’ said Charlie.
‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ she whispered.
‘I’ve ordered us champagne.’
‘Lovely,’ she mouthed.
‘What?’ Charlie leant in.
Willow didn’t trust her voice to stay low, so she gave him a thumbs-up. Almost instantly she regretted doing so. This wasn’t really the sort of place one did such gestures. It wasn’t the right setting. It was a bit like witnessing Queen Elizabeth knight someone and then catch Her Majesty doing a high-five. Her musings were interrupted by Miguel returning with the champagne.
‘My lady,’ he murmured, pouring the chilled fizz into her glass.
Willow inclined her head. It was still too risky to speak. The last thing she wanted was her voice booming out and interrupting that couple over there who were so enthralled with each other. They were holding hands across the table and gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. They had no need for words.
Miguel poured Charlie a flute of champagne and then, bowing and scraping, reversed away.
Charlie picked up his glass.
‘To us,’ he said softly.
Willow gently clinked her glass against his and nodded agreement.
Charlie cleared his throat.
‘There’s a reason I brought you here.’
‘I can’t hear you.’
Charlie leant in further.
‘I said, there’s a reason I brought you here.’
Willow found herself leaning in closer too.
‘What have you caught?’
‘What?’ Charlie frowned.
‘You said you’d caught something.’
‘No, brought.’
‘What have you bought?’
‘Oh for goodness sake,’ muttered Charlie.
‘Cake?’ Willow queried.
Charlie sighed and shook his head. It was no good. He was going to have to speak up. Loud and clear. Sod the other diners.
He fished in his jacket pocket for something, and then stood up. Moving round to Willow, he looked first at her and then at all the diners.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced to the restaurant.
Everyone paused and regarded him curiously.
‘Sorry to interrupt your evening, but there is something I need to ask my girlfriend, and I have to be absolutely certain that she hears me.’
And with that, Charlie dropped down on one knee. He looked up at Willow. She was staring at him with her mouth open.
‘Darling Willow,’ he said, producing a small jeweller’s box.
It was open. Nestling against a black velvet cushion was a diamond ring.
‘Will you marry me?’
There was a collective gasp as both Willow and the entire restaurant sharply inhaled.
‘Oh!’
So this was the surprise Charlie had talked about. His proposal had completely floored her. Her mind careered backwards. Back to her birthday when she’d idly suggested marriage. Charlie had reacted so badly he’d disappeared for the entire weekend. Then there had been that bizarre moment in the kitchen the other day. He’d got down on one knee after she’d cooked brunch, but it had transpired he had tummy ache and wanted the toilet. But now, for reasons Willow couldn’t fathom, her boyfriend had changed his mind. He wanted to get married. Indeed, he was so serious he’d booked Goldhill Grange to pop the question and produced a stunning sparkler in front of all these strangers.
‘Darling?’ Charlie prompted.
Willow stared at him, like a rabbit caught in car headlights. Why wasn’t she feeling thrilled? Or