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His lips twitch, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I turn and walk straight into the small desk that holds a vase of fresh flowers that I stocked only two days ago. I grab it before it can roll, inwardly cursing at my clumsiness.
Nathan takes a few steps over to me, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just…” He asked me to marry him, in a note, which I guess is better that him asking me to my face. I don’t think I could handle that. “I’m a little out of sorts. Is that the kettle? Did you press the kettle?” I begin my journey to the kitchen but Nathan’s hand wrapping around the back of my shirt stops me. “Problem?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he’s standing right behind me, like directly behind me. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
My mouth opens and closes. Do I? “I should start dinner if we want to eat before midnight.”
Even though his chest is to my back, I know he’s licking his lip. “I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to,” I tug forward but he pulls me back, my heart hits my throat, I can hear it in my ears.
“I want to.”
“Kay,” gulp.
He finally releases me and follows me into the kitchen, I collect the ingredients needed and start preparing. Nathan stands to the side waiting for orders.
“Could you pass me the milk?” I ask as I cut the pasta sheet into smaller squares and start filling each one. He looks over my shoulder as I dip the sealed parcels in the milk and place them in the boiling water. “Why did you leave last night?”
“I wanted to give you and your friends some privacy,” he responds and I’m shocked by his honesty. Although now I feel guilty. “Don’t look like that, I didn’t mind. I had work to do anyway.”
“Well… thank you,” I look at him with a grateful smile and grab the salad bowl. “How are things with your parents?”
“My father is furious but he’s also scared. My mum isn’t speaking to me and the business is suffering because my father refuses to change his stock and prices.”
“That’s not good,” I shake my head a little as my hand wields the salad knife of rolled up lettuce. “What are you going to do?”
“Actually,” His lips purse as if thinking about whether or not he should tell me. “I was thinking of starting my own.”
I stop chopping and tilt my head, “Your own jewellery business?”
“Yes.”
My curious expression slowly melts into a smile, “Nathan, that’s a brilliant idea.”
He blinks as if shocked, “You think so?”
“I know so. You’ll do great, the jewellery you showed me is fantastic. Better than anything I’ve seen of your dad’s.” It’s true, his jewellery is really good, although I don’t speak for everyone. We all have different tastes. But if his dad’s business is failing then maybe that’s the direction he should go. I tell him my thoughts and his face stretches into a smile I’ve not seen on him before. It makes him look very handsome. Too handsome.
“You have no idea how…” he clears his throat and chews on his lip for a moment. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I laugh, enjoying his giddiness that makes him look his age rather than the age he pretends to be.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he leaves the room and races up the stairs like a kid going for his favourite toy.
Still smiling, I look back at the meal I’m preparing and continue with it. This has been a very, very good day.
At dinner Nathan pulls out a large folder full of laminated sheets of paper. I glance at it as he flicks through each page, he uses a marker to write notes on certain items of jewellery and occasionally asks me what I think of the ones I see. Mostly I like them, a couple of them I don’t but not because they aren’t good, only because they aren’t my style. But this is great because he needs a diverse range.
Fortunately, having already been in the business he knows how to kick start this kind of thing. I don’t have a clue so I just promise that I’ll keep him well fed and thoroughly entertained throughout the experience. His smile tells me he appreciates it.
After dinner he takes the folder, plus two more, into the living area and spreads them out on the table and ground. I watch as he brings down an easel of sorts and starts cutting out smaller images of his designs and placing them in groups on single sheets of A2 sized paper.
His concentration is mesmerising. I’m not sure why, but watching him in his element, murmuring to himself and darting back and forth makes it impossible for me to keep my eyes off him.
Eventually he removes his jacket and rolls the sleeves of his shirt up.
