‘Excuse me?’
‘You told me not to cross until I saw the little man.’ He grins.
‘I don’t know what you’re—’ I break off as I suddenly remember.
Oh God, it’s him. Last week. When I was rushing to meet Kate and Robyn in the bar. The man when I was crossing the street. The man with the furry microphone and video camera. The man who I recited my stupid saying to, Never Eat Shredded— OK, enough. I cringe at the memory. How uncool.
‘Oh, yeah, I nd vOh, theaceI nd vOhremember,’ I say, trying to sound all nonchalant.
‘I thought it was.’ He’s full on grinning at me now, and his eyes are crinkling up and flashing. I notice he’s got very bright, very blue eyes, and the longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen.
Like a girl, I think, realising I’m staring and looking sharply away.
‘Hi. My name’s Adam.’ He sticks out his hand.
I ignore it and glance down at my clipboard. ‘There isn’t an Adam on the list.’
‘I know. I was just passing.’ He shrugs apologetically.
‘Well, this is a private exhibition. By invitation only.’ I stress those words, but he simply smiles, as if this is all really amusing.
‘You’re throwing me out?’
I falter. I suddenly feel like a bouncer. ‘Well, if you want to put it like that.’
‘OK, OK, don’t worry, I’m going.’ Polishing off his last meatball, he drains his glass. ‘Compliments to the chef. Great meatballs.’ Dabbing his mouth with his napkin, he puts down his glass. ‘But by the way, next time you should get real champagne.’
I glare at him. The cheek of it!
‘See you around.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I mutter under my breath, watching as he turns and saunters off through the crowd.
‘Who was that?’ A voice in my ears makes me jump and I turn to see Nate standing next to me.
Unknown
‘Oh . . . um . . . no one,’ I say, feeling flustered. ‘Just...
‘Bit of a nightmare at the studio, but it’s sorted now.’ He smiles, sliding his arm round my waist. ‘How about you?’
‘Oh, fine.’ I nod distractedly. I feel jittery. Though that’s probably to be expected. After all, not only is it a big night for the gallery, it’s mine and Nate’s first official outing as a couple.
‘Only fine?’ he asks, his brow furrowed, and as I look into his eyes, I suddenly remember all the years I’ve spent dreaming about him, thinking I’d lost him, wondering what would happen if I found him again.
And now we’re back together and he’s standing here with his arm round me.
And I’m saying I’m fine. Am I completely bonkers?
Smiling, I reach up and give him a kiss. ‘No, everything’s perfect.’
Chapter Thirteen
Well, perhaps not everything.
To be frank, I would have preferred it if Nate’s iPhone hadn’t kept jingling every five minutes for the rest of the evening, and he hadn’t had to keep disappearing off to take calls from the studio.
And it was a bit annoying when afterwards we all decamped to a little Chinese restaurant round the corner and Nate wouldn’t eat any of the dim sum that I’d ordered for both of us. Or the sweet and sour chicken. Or the fried rice. Something about MSG and E numbers, apparently, which was a bit of a shame, as his steamed mixed vegetables didn’t look nearly as delicious.
Anyway, it’s not like it was a big deal, I’m just saying. Like it said in my fortune cookie, ‘Nothing will ever come between you and your lover.’ What’s a couple of phone calls and a few plates of dim sum between soulmates?
We all sit around a large table – me and Nate, Kate and Jeff, Robyn and Magda, who brings along her son, Daniel. Thankfully, it’s apparent as soon as I meet him that he’s one of those people who isn’t photogenic, as in the flesh he looks nothing like Austin Powers.
Well, I wouldn’t say nothing like, but put it this way, you wouldn’t meet him and think he’s going to yell, ‘Whoa, baby,’ and have a closet full of velvet suits and frilly shirts.
On learning Robyn’s single and Jewish, Magda immediately rolls up her matchmaking sleeves, and before you know it, she and Daniel are sitting side by side while Magda keeps everyone entertained with her outrageous stories, including the one about husband number two and a tube of superglue, despite her son turning bright red and begging her to stop. It would seem that there is something a Jewish mother loves more than her son, and that’s embarrassing him.