A lunch date is still a date

Emma’s POV
I hung up the phone… Braon was gone, but now I had a lunch date with his master, and his master’s sister… I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. Part of me was terrified, I was just coming to terms with the fact I have a massive great crush on Peter, and I haven’t felt this way since I was a teenager. The other part of me was excited, time with Peter, even if his sister was there, breathing the same air as him was thrilling.

I hope they will let me pop home, shower and change after the run tomorrow. It will finish a couple of hours before lunchtime so I can’t think why they wouldn’t. But Peter was definitely insistent, and that made me smile.

Urghh what to wear, days like this I wish I had a circle of friends, or any girlfriends to talk to, but they had all drifted away in the early years of my marriage to John the kids father. I hadn’t even realised my growing social isolation until my last friend had disappeared from my life, and by then I was convinced it was my fault, I was a useless friend, mother, wife, worker… fill in the role and I was useless and pathetic at it.

My dear husband made me question, doubt and finally disregard my taste, my competence, my sanity, my intelligence, my attractiveness… basically everything about me.

He hadn’t touched me sexually for years prior to his final demise, and although he had never hit me the constant psychological abuse had scarred me far more deeply. I logically knew I wasn’t completely useless but tended to assume that I was always the cause of any issues, a useless old lady.

I knew there was no way Peter would be interested in me. I kept repeating this to myself, no point in getting my hopes up only to have them dashed. But a small part of me remains hopelessly romantic.

I grabbed my phone and dialled Jo.

‘Hi sweetheart’ I opened.

‘Hi mum,’ she sniffled.

‘Still suffering from your cold… does that mean you aren’t running tomorrow?’

‘Fraid not, I still can’t breathe through my nose… why?’

‘Well, I have a lunch date with Fel and Peter and I was hoping you would help me choose what to wear,’ I rushed, as if saying it quickly wouldn’t let her pick up exactly what I was saying.

‘Slow down mum…. Lunch date … with Peter?’ I can hear her eyebrows raising.

‘And Fel… it is a thank you for looking after Braon’

‘If you say so… if you ask me, he digs you, and this is the only way he could get you to accept … I wouldn’t be surprised if Fel didn’t even turn up’

I was glad that she couldn’t see me, I could feel my cheeks heating up as I blushed.

‘So, are you going to help me decide what to wear, or shall I call your sister instead?’

We spent the next 20 minutes discussing my wardrobe options, settling on red jeans, with black boots and a black tunic top. The top would be loose enough to disguise the excess weight on my belly, and the jeans give the look a bit of wow.
…
I spent the rest of the day oscillating between excited and terrified. Several times I picked up the phone and almost dialled Fel to say something had come up and that I couldn’t do lunch, that I wouldn’t be at the run tomorrow, that I was ill or dead… or something. But I didn’t, and come 10:30pm I rolled into bed still conflicted, but still going.

As usual I fell asleep fast, and I found myself in that dream again. The one where the wolves are hunting me, except Saba and Braon weren’t there, the wolves were getting further and further away, and I was being hunted by a creature… no two creatures who reminded me of Gollum… sparse lank hair, spindly arms and legs, a pot belly. Their touch looked like it would be slimy. Despite their similarities I could see one was ginger with blue eyes, while the other had dark brown hair and eyes the colour of melted chocolate.

I was scrabbling away from them, scared that if they touched me, I would be hurt, or die, or worse… What's worse than dying, I have no idea, I just knew it was on the table.

Icy rain was falling from the sky, and I was cold, so very cold, and I was hiding from the hunters, praying for the wolves to find me instead…. Beep, beep, beep

My eyes flew open, instantly I felt reassured that I was in my bed in my bedroom, I could hear wind and rain outside and conclude that must have set off the weird dream. A dream that was already fading faster than a sunrise.
…
I hate running in the wet and the wind, but you can’t guarantee the weather, so I made sure to take a lightweight purple waterproof jacket to run in. I would have to be cold until the start, as I always overheat when running.

With no Jo to collect and an early start due to the nightmare I was 10 minutes early for a change. I stayed in the car, watching the rain that had turned to drizzle fall.

With 5minutes before the off I made my way over to the waiting throng, my heart skipping a little when I saw Peter.

Fel was with Peter, but I only had eyes for him. He looked up directly at me... was that relief I saw crossing his features. Then he waved me over.

We ran together, a familiar activity, Peter and Fel chatting, me concentrating on breathing and keeping going; occasionally supplying short answers to direct questions.

We crossed the finish line… still over 30 minutes, but getting closer every week, it was just a matter of time.

‘Errrr guys,’ I venture. ‘About lunch…’

Peter’s head whips round. ‘Yes..’

‘When and where are we meeting up? I need to go home and change’

What was that I just saw flash through his eyes? Relief, triumph, victory, fear? I really don’t understand men, I thought.

Fel replied, ‘Peter will pick you up from yours at 12:15, we have a lunch reservation at The Dog at one.’
….

I was back home for 10:30am, showered by 11, leaving just over an hour to finish getting ready. At least the clothes I had chosen were appropriate for a pub lunch.

I dressed and did my hair, makeup-wise just a hint of lipgloss, I have never been much of a painted lady. And there I was ready to go with 20 minutes to spare. To fill my time I googled The Dog.

‘We’ve proudly called ourselves a country inn since back in the 18th century! Our country pub has bags of character, you’ll just love the historical pictures and the modern and stylish decor. If you’re looking for the best place to relax with family and friends, The Dog gastro pub is the perfect setting’ I read. And the menu looks a combination of amazing, I love scallops and weird, what’s a terrine when it’s at home?

Still at least there should be something for me to eat.
…
At 12:15 on the dot I heard the growl of a muscle car pullup outside. I dashed to the door, and there was Peter getting out of a silver … I think it’s a Ferrari…. Oh my god… I have never been in a sports car before, hell I don’t think this street has ever seen such a vehicle… I can see the nets twitching opposite, and I am sure if I looked behind me I would see the same.

Peter opens the car door for me and I climb in, glad that I am wearing trousers, the seat feels very low to the ground.

Classic rock is oozing out of the radio, filling the silence and preventing it from becoming too awkward.

‘You look lovely Em’

I blushed and changed the subject ‘Wow this is some car, what is it? A Ferrari?

‘Yep a Ferrari, I don’t drive her often, but I thought you might find her fun.’

I wasn’t quite sure how I felt, aren’t sports cars for men who are compensating for something… or maybe he had a midlife crisis.

As we pulled into the carpark Peter’s phone rang through the car stereo. ‘Little sis’ flashed across the screen.

‘Hi Fel what’s up? Are you nearly here?’

‘I’m not coming,’ she replied.

‘What?’ I butt in.

‘Oh hi Em, sorry both I have just had a call from one of my clients, she has an opening night tomorrow and the designer doing her dress has just pulled out… I am on my way to London now… I have a new design and a complete styling to sort.’

And with that Fel was gone. I looked at Peter, what now I thought.

‘Well we may as well use the reservation’ he ventured.
…
Dinner at The Dog was amazing, definitely not a dog’s dinner I thought to myself. The scallops were perfect, the lamb shank melted off the bone, and the chocolate bombe… mmmm… rich, chocolatey and sinful.

Conversation was easy. Peter regaled me with stories of his large and extended family. My favorite was about his Uncle Patrick who after a night of celebrations got lost on the way home, found Brigadoon and ended up marrying a local girl.

The meal was over, so Peter escorted me back to the ridiculous car, and drove me home.

He walked me to my door. As I stepped through he spoke. ‘Emma I really enjoyed lunch.’

I turned, and he was so much closer than I was expecting, even on my doorstep I was looking up at him. As his face, his lips moved closer. They brushed mine… it felt like a spark passed between us. His lips moved across mine, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. I reached up, looping my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers in hair. Parting my lips as he deepened the kiss