“Or a MILF. Except I don’t have any children. What happens when you fuck a MILF? Does she then become a MIF?”
“I hate those terms,” said Ben reprovingly. “So crude. You’re neither of those. You’re who you are. Vanessa. Gorgeous, sexy Vanessa.”
“People might call me a cougar, though.”
“People can shut their fucking yaps. They’d better not say it where I can hear them.”
“Oh, Ben.” She was touched by his defence of her. “Anyway, people only talk when there’s something to talk about.”
She flicked her gaze up at him, looking from underneath lowered lashes.
“What do you mean? Do you… Do you not want to…go on…with this?”
She reached up for him, hooked a hand at the back of his neck, pulled him down for a kiss of apology.
“I just wondered if you did,” she whispered afterwards.
“I don’t care what anyone says. I want this. More than anything.”
“Then I want it too.”
Chapter Five
Milan had asked her to wait for him in the Delius Arms, but Lydia had no desire to sit alone in a bar full of afternoon drinkers. Besides, it was a beautiful day, so she’d insisted on buying them a picnic lunch from Pret and sitting on the grass in the park instead.
While she waited, fending off exceptionally bold urban squirrels, she fretted. The trustees were going to fire Milan. If they didn’t, then they needed their heads examining. In the two weeks since his return, he’d made it to three rehearsals. The rest of the time had been spent either drinking or sleeping it off.
She’d tried everything she could think of to try to wean him off the bottle—promises, entreaties, threats. Eventually, the trustees had acted. It was going to be tough, but she could only pray that this might be the wake-up call he needed to put aside the alcohol and deal with his grief and guilt more productively.
Then maybe they could get back to the way they had been—or, at least, the way she had dreamt they would be. Looking back, it had never been perfect, but that day in Prague… Oh, the hopes she had let herself have. They had been so close to realisation. Surely there was still a chance?
She caught sight of his tall, lean figure loping along the path, looking around for her. She leapt up and waved, her heart thundering. How did he look? Angry? Devastated?
No. He seemed to have a spring in his step. Had he managed to bamboozle or enchant the trustees somehow?
“How was it?” she asked anxiously.
He sat down beside her and picked up the sandwich pack.
“Ah, crayfish, this is one of my favourites. Did you get crisps?”
“Milan! What happened?”
“Can we go to the Delius? Get a drink?”
“No. Please. Tell me what they said.”
“Okay. Well. They fired me.”
“Oh, Milan.” She put out her hand for his.
He squeezed it, but he was smiling.
“It’s not so bad. They offered me a deal.”
“Really? What?”
“I see a counsellor and they give me my first concert as a solo violinist.”