Von Ritter sighed. “You mean the things we didn’t do yet?”
“In all our time together we never once…” She trailed off, aware of the open position of their table and nearness of the passers-by.
“I was working up to it.” Von Ritter bent his head very close. “I was close.”
“I do like you. I like you a lot. I always enjoyed what we did together.”
“But?”
Lydia sat up, moving her head, which had nearly been touching his, away from him. “No, there’s no but. Just that.”
“So…you will come back to me?”
“Not tonight. I’ve got dinner plans. But maybe.”
“Dinner plans?”
“I’m meeting Milan. We’re celebrating his new career.”
Von Ritter turned his face away, his lips pinched.
“It’s just dinner. But maybe it’ll be more. I don’t know yet. I don’t know what or who I want, but I’ll tell you what I do know.”
Von Ritter sniffed. “Go on.”
She held his eyes. “I intend to have a damn good time finding out. I’ve done angst. I’ve done misery. I’ve done broken-hearted. I think it’s about time I did fun. Don’t you?”
Von Ritter’s lips curved upward. He shrugged. “I guess. Though I thought we did…”
“Yes, we had fun. We still can. But I’m not giving my heart to anyone until I’m sure of them. My body…that’s a different matter. I might end up with you. I might end up with Milan. I might end up with someone else completely. It probably sounds crazy coming from a violinist, but this autumn is all about no strings.”
Chapter Three
When Lydia walked into the Oxo Tower Bar, she looked around for a group, but the only representative of the Westminster Symphony Orchestra was Milan himself, sitting in one of the cream bucket chairs, gazing out over the London skyline.
She was heartened to notice, judging from the bottle standing beside it, that his glass contained sparkling water, and she took a seat opposite him, admiring his heart-stopping gorgeousness in the new dark suit he wore.
“I thought there’d be a gang of us,” she remarked, feeling self-conscious as ever about the dress she had worn. Was it not smart enough? Too frumpy? It could almost be office wear—a fitted sheath in dove-grey flannel, though she had dressed it up with her best jewellery. Lydia had always lacked f
ashion confidence, though, and tended to play it safe. For that brief and heady period when Milan had been her personal shopper, she had looked chic and amazing every day. She missed those times.
“I’m throwing a party at the weekend,” he said. “Tonight I just wanted you.”
He spoke the words with such intensity that she almost grabbed hold of his hand and suggested they leave then and there.
“I’m genuinely happy for you,” she said. “About the solo career. I’ve always thought you could make it. Our Prague Paganini.”
He smiled. “Thank you. Like him, I am considered a devil in some quarters.”
“That’s because you are a bloody devil, and you know it.”
He laughed and raked long fingers through his hair.
“I do,” he agreed. “You want a drink?”
Once they got their drinks they moved outside to the restaurant deck and sat beneath the stars, looking across the river to the illuminated dome of St Paul’s.
“Listen,” he said, once they had ordered food. “I’m sorry about your holiday. I didn’t mean to spoil it. Sometimes I get an idea in my head and I get so fixed on it, you know. I forget to think.”