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night ever happened? You know champagne always goes straight to my head. Let me take you out to dinner again – do everything properly. I mean… whilst you were in the shower I noticed some bridal catalogues on the coffee table – makes me realise how much of a big deal a wedding is; that I should have thought to be more organised and romantic.’ He leant forward and before I knew it, my hand slipped behind his neck as we urgently kissed. My heart beat as if it were an alarm, warning me that it might just combust.
    ‘No, Dave,’ I gasped and stepped back. ‘It’s… it’s…’ I sneezed again and Dave passed me a napkin. ’It’s not as simple as that. Marriage… I’m not ready – don’t think I ever will be. Never thought about it… us… I mean…’
    His shoulders slumped. ‘The idea had never even crossed your mind?’
    Cheeks burning, I blew my nose and ignored his question. ‘And so what if I’m looking at bridal catalogues? Doesn’t mean I’m lusting after our own grandiose affair. I like looking at the dresses, that’s all.’ My cheeks burned hotter. Was I lying to him – to myself?
    ‘No. Of course not. It’s just that Mikey–’
    I sneezed again. ‘Sorry Dave – could you blow out that candle? I’m allergic to the scent. Must be something to do with my hay fever. I didn’t stop sneezing for twelve hours when Mikey lit a Cranberry and Spice one in the flat last Christmas.’
    A strange expression crossed Dave’s face and his fists curled as he blew out the candle. In silence we made sandwiches, each carrying out the familiar role we’d got used to over the last eighteen months – I buttered the bread and got out crisps, whilst Dave prepared a salad and chicken filling and cut each round into triangular-shaped quarters.
    We took them to the sofa – not something crumb annihilator Mikey would have approved of.
    ‘So. Where does this leave us?’ Dave tried again after we’d finished eating in front of more birds in Cumbria. I’d made us two coffees. Dave muttered something about having pre-prepared pudding. He brought over two bowls and sat down.
    Gosh. Jam roly poly. My favourite. My eyes pricked as I thought how hard Dave must have tried, to make the rolls of sponge and fruit filling look so perfect. I dug in my spoon and opened my mouth, but urgh! As quickly as possible I retrieved a tissue from my pyjama pocket and spat the pudding out.
    ‘Are you trying to poison me? What
is
that sauce?’
    He tasted a spoonful and grimaced. ‘Hollandaise… I, um, must have got my Tupperware jar of custard muddled up with this in your fridge.’
    ‘Mikey must have kept this from when we had salmon last week.’ I gagged and put down my bowl. ‘Excuse me a minute – I think this time it’s me who’s going to be sick.’
    When I eventually returned, Dave was on his phone, face purple, waiting for someone to pick up.
    ‘Everything all right?’ I asked.
    ‘No!’ he snapped. ‘I mean….’ Exhaling deeply, he switched off his mobile and drained his coffee cup.
    ‘Look, Dave, I really appreciate all the effort, but it’s just a bit soon. Best to let me cool off for a few days.’
    ‘But what about New York? That’s next week. We haven’t got a few days.’
    ‘Nothing is firm at the moment – I’ve… got a lot to sort out.’
    ‘But my proposal…’ Dave shuffled nearer to me and took my hand. ‘It doesn’t change how you feel about me, does it? Because marriage isn’t the be all and end all, Jasmine. I’m happy just to carry on as we were.’ He squeezed my fingers and shot me an intense stare, from beneath his fringe. ‘I love you,’ he said gently, whilst fiddling with his watch strap. ‘More than anyone before. Don’t throw away what we’ve got over one silly mistake.’
    My reservations dissolved a little at his sudden shyness.
    ‘And honestly… Sunday… don’t know what I was thinking. What a jerk…’ He met my gaze. ‘Must have reminded you of your dad.