White-Hot Holiday(9)

It had started to squirm earlier that evening when she’d inspected herself in her bedroom mirror. The sleeveless, midnight-blue, wrap-over dress flattered her figure and coloring, and the high-heeled sandals complimented her calves. She’d styled her hair, applied makeup, donned jewelry. But her polished reflection revived memories of the last time she’d dressed up like this two months ago. It had been her birthday, and Justin was taking her out to dinner. It was meant to have been a celebration, but by the end of the night the crack in her heart had widened to a chasm, and she had resolved to leave Justin.

She’d tried to shake off the bad memories. Aaron was taking her to dinner, not Justin. Aaron was different. When he’d seen her all spiffed up, his face had lit up and his eyes had danced. His admiration had lifted her heart, whereas on her birthday, Justin had barely noticed what she’d worn before hustling her out.

But when she and Aaron arrived at Carlotta’s Bistro, the worm had wriggled again. As they walked into the restaurant, Aaron’s hand hovering in the small of her back, the maître d’ had greeted them effusively, and as they were led to their table, the other diners had looked up and followed their progress. Justin had always liked making grand entrances at restaurants. He liked ordering the most expensive wines and leaving extravagant tips. He liked people knowing he had money to splash about, that he could buy whatever he wanted. Perhaps that had included her.

“Is everything okay?”

Naomi glanced up to find Aaron watching her with a concerned expression. She wasn’t okay, she realized. Her stomach was a cramped knot, and her shoulders were stiff and tight.

“I’m just trying to decide what to order,” she improvised, hating the fact that Justin could still cast a pall over her. She peered at the menu. It could have been a sibling of the one from her birthday dinner. Every dish sounded pretentious—organic rosehips, black truffle foam—and the prices were astronomical. On her teacher’s salary, she could never afford to eat here.

“While I was on the Barrier Reef, I became rather partial to yabbies,” Aaron said. “I think I’ll go with them.”

Yabbies, the freshwater crayfish, reminded her of lobster, Justin’s fallback dish to order if there wasn’t something more ostentatious on offer. She scanned the menu for something plain, but there wasn’t even chicken; the only poultry on offer being squab or quail, too exotic for her mood. “I’ll have the lamb.” It was the most down-to-earth dish on the menu, even if it did come with “stinging nettles,” whatever they were.

The waiter took their order, and the sommelier came to discuss wine. Eventually they were alone, and Naomi told herself to relax. Aaron was trying to be nice. It wasn’t his fault the evening brought back bleak memories for her.

Determined to be a good dining companion, she asked Aaron about his favorite haunts in New York, and gradually the conversation became more relaxed. When she’d first arrived in London, she’d enjoyed its cosmopolitan nature, and Aaron’s love of New York reminded her that once upon a time she hadn’t been so against big cities.

“So tell me about your new teaching position,” Aaron said as their food arrived.

There was genuine interest in his expression, so she started to tell him about her upcoming employment at St. Catherine’s Primary School. She would be substituting for a teacher on twelve months’ maternity leave, a temporary position, which could become permanent if her performance impressed the principal. She’d be teaching kindergarten, her favorite class, even if it was challenging dealing with unruly five-year-olds and anxious parents because the first year of school could foster a lifelong love of learning in a child. Belatedly she realized she’d been monopolizing the conversation for some time and had barely touched her meal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “You should have said something.”

“But I wasn’t bored. You obviously have a passion for teaching.”

“Guess it shows, huh?” She grinned at him. “Thing is, I’m not used to rabbiting on about my job to, well, a man.”

Setting down his knife and fork, Aaron gave her a searching look. “You mean Justin.”

“Yes.” She hesitated, reluctant to discuss her ex-boyfriend, but Aaron had brought up his name, and tonight her breakup plagued her mind. “Justin didn’t think teaching was a particularly difficult job, especially primary school teaching. It was only nine to three, he used to say. Kids were easy to manage, and what about all those long holidays. How hard could it be?” Bitterness had crept into her voice. God, how she hated sounding sour and resentful. “Of course there are teachers who just skate by, but I’m not one of them. I’m as serious about my teaching as he is about his legal career.” She stopped short. Her jaw was tight, and her hands were clenched on the tablecloth.

“Is that why you broke up with him?”

Aaron’s question was gentle, his face compassionate. Her pulse kicked. He edged his hand across the table toward hers, as if he meant to cover her hand. If he touched her, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, given the raw state she was in. She quickly withdrew both hands to clutch the napkin on her lap.

“I wasn’t happy with only substitute teaching,” she said. “I thought I should study for my master’s degree in education, but when I brought it up with Justin, he pooh-poohed the idea. Just dismissed it out of hand. Why go to all that time and expense when I would give up work as soon as we married and started a family?”

Anger rolled back like a thundercloud. “We hadn’t even discussed it. He simply assumed we’d have children and I’d stop working because his career was more important, and my teaching was just a stopgap, a way to earn a little pin money.” She gritted her teeth. “Justin thought he was being so generous, the bounteous provider every woman dreamed of marrying. He was flabbergasted when I told him I was leaving him. He couldn’t believe I’d give up such a catch.” Her throat ached; her eyes smarted. Aaron became a blur. “He was generous with me, and—and he did love mein the beginning, before he became successful.” She sucked in a gulp of air and pressed the napkin to her lips, striving for self-control.

Aaron’s fists were like rocks on the white tablecloth. “Naomi—”

“I’m being terribly rude. I didn’t mean to vomit up my sorry breakup.” She tugged the napkin back over her lap and squared her shoulders. “Please ignore my diatribe.”

“That’s impossible.” A muscle flexed in his jaw.

The fierce look in his eyes made her squirm. As sanity cooled her mind, embarrassment at her outburst crept in. She’d blurted out intimate details of her failed relationship right in the middle of this ritzy restaurant to a man she barely knew. How mortifying. “This food is delicious. I-I’ve never had stinging nettles.” She grabbed her knife and fork and dug into the lamb, though she’d lost all appetite. “How is your yabby?”

If it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have been so bothered, but there was something about Aaron She didn’t want him to think her histrionic or self-indulgent. Silly, really, because in two days’ time he’d be gone, and she’d never see him again, but she hated the idea of him going back to the States and talking about that “drama queen who went on and on about her crummy ex.”

Aaron studied her a while longer. Then he sighed and picked up his cutlery. “My yabby is great.”

He looked like a man treading on eggshells. Perhaps he was scared she’d burst into tears in front of everyone. She forced down another mouthful, but the food might as well have been sawdust, and after another minute, she gave up all pretense of eating. The glum quietness between them reminded her how her last meal with Justin had ended, when their sharp, tense whispers had lapsed into caustic silence.

The waiter took their plates away. Aaron looked at her, his face somber. “Would you like dessert, a coffee maybe?”

Her chest panged at his solicitude when he must be dying to get away from her. She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I think I just want to go home, if you don’t mind.”

Aaron drove them home without speaking. She wasn’t used to his silence. The longer it stretched out, the more fraught it felt. The need to break the silence and clear the atmosphere grew in her, but what could she say? If only she could be more chatty and frivolous.

They were inside the house when her nerve broke. Turning to Aaron, she said in a rush, “Thank you for being so—so understanding. It was bad of me to let you take me to an expensive restaurant and then ruin the entire evening with my blabbering. I—”

“Naomi.” He stepped up and gripped her upper arms. “Stop apologizing.”

She drew in a breath, unsettled by the firm strength of his palms on her bare skin. “You see, I don’t normally rant on about Justin like that. It’s just that”— she took in another gulp of air— “the dressing up and the fancy restaurant and fawning waiters, it reminded me too much of the last time Justin and I went out for dinner. We were supposed to be celebrating my birthday, but instead we argued, and I realized it was all over”