Coming Down (Love in London 1) - Page 43
For the second night in a row, I find myself climbing the steps to Niall’s front door and pressing his buzzer to let me in.
I’m almost shocked when the front door opens. I’d been expecting a buzz and a click, not this. By this, I mean Niall running down three flights of stairs to meet me, a huge grin on his face, his cheeks flushed beneath the one-day layer of stubble that takes my breath away.
Why does he have to be so bloody gorgeous?
Niall leans forward and presses his lips to my cheek, grazing the corner of my mouth. I have to fight the urge to move my head an inch and feel the full force of his lips against mine.
“Let me take that.” He pulls the takeaway bag from my clutching fingers and holds the front door open. “You look great, by the way. I like your t-shirt.”
“This old thing?” I don’t even remember where I got it from. It could be a five-pound Primark bargain or a hundred-pound Simon gift. I bat away the urge to check the label.
“It looks good on you.” His eyes scan down from my face to my chest, and my cheeks flame as red as his, but for entirely different reasons.
“Is your mum still here?” I squeak.
“I put her on the train to Preston this afternoon.” He isn’t suffering any of my breathlessness as we make the ascent to his flat. I try to disguise my embarrassingly loud gasps.
“What’s in Preston?”
“My aunt. Ma’s gone to terrorise her for a few days while I get some respite. I’m still traumatised after she revealed all my secrets to you last night.”
My son was in love with you, Beth.
Thank God he doesn’t know about that one. If he did, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. It isn’t true, I remind myself. She was seeing things that weren’t there.
“Shut up, she was really nice.” I punch him in the bicep and he reaches up to grab my fist. He holds it in his hand for a moment, staring down at our joined fingers.
“Did I hurt you?” I whisper.
His eyes rise up to meet mine. “Never.”
He walks into his flat and carries the brown takeaway bag into his kitchen. I follow and watch as he unloads the little plastic boxes, steam escaping as he pulls off the lids. “Shall I serve or do you want to help yourself?”
I’m not at all hungry. “I’ll serve myself.” He’s still staring at me and it’s unnerving. My hand shakes as I reach out to grab a spoon. “I wasn’t sure what you like so I thought I’d stick to the favourites. You can never go wrong with Chow Mein.”
“Unless I have a wheat allergy,” he remarks.
I practically snatch the plastic pot from his hands. “Do you get all swollen up? Do you have an EpiPen? Should I call an ambulance?”
He takes the container back and starts to laugh. “I didn’t say I had a wheat allergy.” He starts to heap noodles onto his plate. “I was just hypothesising.”
Now I want to hit him again. “You scared me. I had visions of having to drag your lif
eless body down three flights of stairs, screaming out for help. Though I’m not sure which one of us would need the hospital more by that point.”
I look up and I’m breathless all over again. He’s beautiful. Not just handsome, in that square-jawed, matinee idol kind of way. His face is less ephemeral than that. His straight, even nose, full lips and those bright blue eyes remind me of medieval portraits and dashing knights.
“Hey, I promised you a vat of wine. Will a glass do to start with? They’re big ones; I can probably fit half a bottle in there.”
Niall and wine. I wonder if it’s a good combination.
“A glass will do. I forgot to bring my swimming costume anyway.” When he looks confused, I add, “For swimming in the vat.”
“Nah, you said drowning. You don’t need a swimming costume to drown.” He passes me a full glass. “You can do that naked.”
Oh.
I take a big gulp, searching for salvation in the bottom of the glass. Although I know even a mouthful of Pinot isn’t enough to ward off my demons, because I shouldn’t be here. It isn’t the same as popping over to Lara and Alex’s for dinner and a gossip.
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