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“Shay?” I asked and his eyes fell to my lips for a moment before he pulled out his phone and typed something. I grew nervous, but then when he showed me the phone there were only two words written. It didn’t take me long to read them.
Sunday dinner?
He was asking me to dinner at his house, just as his dad had invited me before. I hadn’t shown up, and I still felt bad about it, but things were different now. We were friends. Bus companions. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t live a life like Jonathan Oaks, all alone. I wanted to let people in, and Shay was the person I wanted to let in most of all.
That was why I lifted my head and replied, “You’re inviting me to Sunday dinner at your house?”
He nodded, his expression hopeful, and my chest tingled. “Okay,” I whispered, and his eyes flared like he hadn’t expected me to accept. A silence fell before I asked, “Um, what time?”
Shay held up two fingers.
“Two o’clock?”
Again, he nodded.
“All right. Should I bring anything?”
He shook his head and signed something. It took me a moment to translate it as, Just you.
I flushed and smiled. “In that case, I’m looking forward to it.”
Me, too, he signed.
When we reached our stop, we got off, and my pulse fluttered when I felt Shay’s hand briefly press against the small of my back. “See you Sunday,” I said just before I left and turned in the direction of my flat.
Saturday felt like it lasted forever, but I busied myself with laundry and various chores.
On Sunday, I spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready. In the end, I picked out my best pair of jeans and a pale blue jumper. I left my hair down and put on a pair of small hoop earrings. My flat was walking distance to Adam’s Row, about fifteen minutes, and the weather was nice, so I only needed a light jacket. When I reached Shay’s street, I paused and scanned the houses, looking for number 10. As soon as I spotted it, I checked my watch. I was five minutes early, but that was okay, right?
The front garden was neatly maintained with rows of rosemary and lavender leading up to the door. I wondered who did the gardening, Shay or his dad? I opened the old metal gate and walked towards the front door, my heart in my throat the whole time. I couldn’t believe I was about to have dinner at Shay’s house. For months, I’d obsessed about him and now, there we were in one another’s lives.
It felt a little surreal.
I knocked three times, then waited. I heard a dog bark from what sounded like the back garden. A moment later, the door opened, and Shay appeared. He wore jeans and a green jumper, the dark shade almost matching his eyes. He gave me his usual thumbs up greeting, which I returned, then he stepped aside for me to come in. I stood in his hallway as he closed the door before turning to face me. He motioned to my jacket.
“You want to take my jacket?” He nodded. “Oh, sure, thank you.” He helped me take it off, his knuckles brushing my shoulders. “Sorry I’m a little early. The walk here didn’t take as long as I expected.”
He waved away my apology before a dog came running down the hallway. It looked like the black version of a golden retriever and was very friendly as it barrelled into me. I chuckled and knelt, petting its head and seeing it wore a collar with a small metal pendent that read “Daniel.” It made me smile because I loved when dogs were given ordinary people names.
“Hello, Daniel, aren’t you a gorgeous boy,” I cooed, ruffling his silky fur.
Shay made a sort of low whistling noise, and the dog instantly looked up at him. He made a motion with his hand, and the dog scurried off back the way he came.
“He’s adorable,” I said and stood. Shay smiled as he led me farther down the hallway into a bright, spacious kitchen. It was larger than what I imagined was original to the house due to an extension that took up a small section of the back garden. Skylights created a bright, sunny feel, and I noticed there were already several people sitting at the dining table chatting. Shay’s dad was by the cooker, tending to the food, which smelled amazing. Better than any Sunday dinner I’d had in a long time. Living alone meant no one ever cooked for me, and I was looking forward to tasting Eugene’s roast.
Shay’s warmth met my back, and then the attention of everyone at the table turned to us. There was a couple in their late thirties, a large, dark-haired man, also in his thirties, and a third guy with bright blue eyes. They were so blue they were almost startling, but the most startling part was I recognised them. It was the man from the other week, the one who’d been making a drunken racket outside my flat, who sneered at Siobhan and then stole Bob’s walking stick when he came out to tell him to move along.
