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knowing he was back in the comfortable but tiny hotel room sleeping alone. It might have only been one night, but she’d connected with him on a level she rarely did with anyone. It had taken strength to make herself get on that train, knowing she would never see him again. But she had done it. And she was convinced it had been the right thing to do. It had been about self-preservation. The past ten years or so, since she’d given up relying on her mother for any support, had been about building her own life and making sure there was no one in it that could knock her down. Did she really think she wasn’t strong and self-assured enough now to have a simple dinner with the hot guy from her past without turning into a simpering wreck?
    And of course there was a part of her that was curious. What had he been doing since they last met? He’d had his big life plan all mapped out, she remembered that much, and back then he’d seemed so excited about it. She didn’t pick up that same spark of enthusiasm now and it intrigued her. What exactly had changed? He would be winging his way to Barbados again, maybe even as soon as tomorrow morning. The forecast was supposed to be improving. And she would finish her weekend in London and then go back to her life, exactly as she had done five years ago. A life that was a lot more successful now than it had been back then.
    Where would be the harm?
    Tom Henley meant nothing to her. What better way to prove it, to herself as well as to him, than to go out with him.
    â€˜Just dinner,’ she clarified, narrowing her eyes.
    He held his hands up, the picture of innocence.
    â€˜Whatever you like.’
    ****
    Ella pawed through the contents of her luggage and realised she had absolutely no idea what Tom Henley’s idea of a dinner date would entail. Mainly because the last dinner date they’d had involved eating fish and chips out of the paper while sitting on a harbour wall and looking at the Christmas lights draped around the marina. She let her mind drift back to the sting of the cold air on her cheeks, the sharp taste of the salt and vinegar, the scent of the sea.
    Fish and chips had been a last resort because they’d been thrown out of the restaurant where she was working and he was eating. And that was the point right there. He’d been eating a late lunch with a group of friends at the most expensive restaurant in the town. He was flying out to Barbados within days. He came from a family of doctors who drank eggnog at parties. She looked at the selection of clothes she’d brought with her for the weekend with Liz and nothing jumped out that would make her fit easily into those situations without standing out.
    Fish and chips out of the paper she could do. She gathered up jeans, vest and thick jumper. She’d just have to get in first and pitch dinner at her own level.
    ****
    â€˜I’ve booked a table in the restaurant,’ he said, looking her up and down when she opened the door to his knock. He took in her jeans and UGG boots. ‘It’s got two Michelin stars, fantastic food. We can start with a drink in the bar if you like.’
    â€˜Actually I was thinking we could go out and take in a bit of London in the snow,’ she said, grabbing an enormous parka from where it hung over the back of a chair and winding a scarf around her neck. ‘Hyde Park’s just round the corner with the Winter Wonderland!’ Her eyes lit up as she slammed the door of her hotel room behind her.
    â€˜What about dinner?’
    He followed her down the hall.
    She flashed him a smile over her shoulder.
    â€˜That’s not a problem is it? We can pick something up while we’re out.’ She took a few paces further and then turned back when he didn’t follow her. ‘Unless you’d
rather
go to the restaurant, in which case I totally understand.’ She made it sound as if the restaurant served up slops instead of some of