As he waited outside the café the phone in Robbie's jacket pocket buzzed with a text, 'Running a bit late - can you order me something and I'll be there as quick as I can'. He smiled to himself. Typical Laura, always in demand. He walked up to the long queue by the counter and began to wait. He still hadn't entirely processed the morning's events, but he felt calm and confident that things were moving in the right direction. It was strange, but good. For a long time, Laura had been more than a friend to him, in his own mind at least, and he was pleased that finally he felt able to show her the depth of his feelings. He felt like a teenager again, full of anticipation, but unlike those agonising teenage years, he felt in control. They had been moving this way for a long time, but now that they had crossed some unspoken limit, he couldn't imagine stepping back.
He ordered their lunch and waited for his coffee to be made. He felt a delicate touch on his fingers, as a small hand slipped into his, just for a moment, before anyone noticed, and then withdrew.
'Hello you'
'Sorry I'm late - we had to reorder the whole run of tests. It took a bit longer than I thought.'
He smiled, bringing his hand to gently rest on her shoulder, rubbing it affectionately,
'I've ordered some lunch, coffee's just coming'
'Shall I get a table?'
As he sauntered off back to the office, leaving her with the bill, Laura Hobson couldn't help but smile. During all their years of working together Robbie Lewis had never once asked her to pay for anything. They were always meticulous in splitting the bill, or he would insist on treating her. But today things were different. He hadn't kissed her again - they had tacitly agreed that this should remain their secret for the moment - but everything felt full of promise. And they had just chatted normally, about work. One of her greatest fears had been that things would change too fast, too much. If asked, she would have said it was because she didn't want to rush him in their new relationship, but in truth she was just as wary of her own feelings. She couldn't bear the thought that he might retreat back into his earlier caution. Her phone buzzed,
"Sorry to abandon you – can I buy you dinner tonight?"
She sighed, as reality once again caught up with them, and quickly sent a reply,
'I'm sorry, rehearsal tonight, last one before concert next week, really can't miss it. But let's talk later?'
As he wandered out of the back rooms of the crematorium, Lewis found himself strolling amongst the memorials. When was it that he'd last come to visit Val? For a moment, he couldn't remember. Somehow it felt less important to visit her grave now. Not that she really left his thoughts, he remembered her at least five minutes of every day, but things were getting easier. She would want him to move on, he knew that. And for the first time, he felt entirely at ease with that thought.
For too many months he'd tried to convince himself that he was the wrong man for Laura. Even Hathaway had begun to cotton on to it, winding him up, trying his patience. He couldn't pretend that the nudging encouragement hadn't made him think harder about his feelings, but also made him feel self-conscious. He wasn't a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, and the last thing he wanted was to make a fool out of himself. Over the last few months, though, he'd begun to wonder. And as the weeks passed, those wonderings had turned into hopes. They would be good together, him and Laura. They would have fun. She made him laugh, and she made him feel needed. He was ready for this, and he hoped that she was too.
As Laura eased the sections of her clarinet apart, carefully wiping them and replacing them in the crushed velvet case, she wondered whether Robbie would still be at work. She was tired, the rehearsal had been long, and she definitely had a full schedule the next day, but she couldn't resist the idea of seeing him. All day she had been imagining his lips on hers, his arms around her. It was crazy, she had known him for all these years, and yes, she'd certainly imagined kissing him, usually after too much wine…but now she had finally done it, she couldn't stop thinking about doing it again. The room was beginning to empty, and after a few brief goodbyes, she packed up her score and shrugging on her leather jacket, headed out to her car. Laura was rarely impetuous, but she wasn't afraid to take a chance, and this evening was no different.
The traffic was light, and it wasn't long before she arrived in the almost deserted car park. She put her clarinet in the boot and locked the car – it was probably overkill, but it would be sod's law for her car to get broken into in the station car park. Not for the first time, Laura appreciated the fact that the station security operated on swipe cards out of hours. Usually she worked later than she cared to admit, but tonight, for the first time, she wanted to avoid attention not because she was afraid of seeming dull, but because she was doing something far more interesting. Mercifully, the corridors were all but empty, and the few sergeants she did encounter were not familiar.
As she reached the end of the corridor and the office that he shared with Hathaway, though, Laura realised that the room was shrouded in darkness. He wasn't there. Her hand rested on the steel door knob, its cold weight in her palm. Why did I assume he'd be here? She checked her watch, and sighing loudly began to retrace her steps. Sergeant James shuffled passed her in the corridor, nodding a brief 'Good evening', and she tried to raise a half-hearted smile. What now? For a moment she wondered whether she might drop by his house, but quickly dismissed it. Last night had been amusing and, she hoped, well-received, but she couldn't just turn up at his flat uninvited. As confident as she was trying to be, she couldn't shake off the feeling that he had decided to have some time alone. But why did he say he was working?
Sitting back in her car, Laura decided to pull herself together, and to see the situation how it really was. He had asked her to dinner, she had said she was busy, and then he had clearly decided to do something else. It wasn't a problem, and she didn't need to overreact. But she was disappointed, and that feeling, at least where Robbie was concerned, was a new one.
The football game had finished, and, yawning loudly, Lewis was beginning to think about heading to his bed. He'd ended the day early enough, and after a quick trip around the supermarket, he'd enjoyed a quiet night in with the Champions' League and a couple of cans. He was tired, but contented. The investigation was beginning to open up, and some leads had been established. But most of all, he had kissed Laura. Not once, but at least four times. He grinned widely, recalling the softness of her lips against his. Unbelievable. She was so beautiful, so self-assured, but she needed him, wanted him. It was a shame they hadn't managed dinner, but there would be other nights. Maybe tomorrow night? He smiled again, and hauling himself off the sofa, flicked off the tv.
Drawing the curtains, and sliding in under the duvet, he wondered if he might call her. It was late, but not that late for them. She would be tired after her orchestra practice, but she had mentioned that they might speak later. He toyed with the phone in his hand, caught between wanting to hear her voice, but not wanting to wake her if she was already asleep. Opting for caution, he keyed in a message,
'Why do I miss you, even though I see you every day? Dinner tomorrow? Sweet dreams, Rx'