Page 23 of The Love of Our Lives

I find myself grinning as he takes my hand again, and this time he pauses for a moment, his eyes lingering on mine in the darkness. My breath quickens and the energy between us is palpable.

‘Just over here,’ he says, and to my confusion, he walks towards the cupboard. Opening the door, a rush of air hits me as I see what appears to be a stone staircase leading up to the pitch-black sky above.

‘What the—’ I breathe.

‘Just a little perk of living on my side of the top floor,’ he says, and leads me up the steps. My heels ring out into the late October air, my breath coming out in soft wisps.

At the top, we step out on to what feels like the top of the world.

The tumbling rooftops of Edinburgh lie below, while the castle above is lit up blue against the cold, night sky.

But right in front of me is the warmest sight I’ve ever seen.

A small table has been set with covered plates, a vase of evergreens and a chilled bottle of champagne at its centre.

Two chairs sit on either side, a plump velvet cushion and soft blankets on each one, and beside the table, an outdoor heater glows warm.

Around it all, ropes of fairy lights have been strung through the iron railings, which enclose the area.

‘But how on earth did you do this?’ I say, still amazed.

‘Sven and Charlie,’ he says, then turns to me. ‘I know it’s not a fancy restaurant, so if you’d prefer to do that then we can—’

‘It’s perfect,’ I say, cutting through his words. ‘I just can’t believe you’ve done all this for me.’

‘Well, it’s your birthday,’ Adam says, ‘another year on this planet, and I think that’s worth celebrating, Emily.’

I take a breath, unsure what to say, but a second later he pulls one of the chairs out from the table, ushers for me to sit. After he’s sat down himself, he pulls the champagne bottle from the bucket with a shuffling of ice.

‘Not entirely sure we needed the ice out here tonight,’ he says, pouring me a glass. ‘Are you warm enough?’

‘I’m very warm right now,’ I say, truly meaning it. With the heater on beside me and the blanket across my lap now, I feel perfectly cocooned.

‘To you, Emily, and your new life,’ Adam says, and lifts his glass to mine.

I kiss my glass gently against his, the bubbles leaping to the top as I do so.

‘Thank you, Adam,’ I say, and think how handsome he looks, how insanely attracted to him I am. My heart is racing.

I take a quick sip, before nodding at the closed plates. ‘Please tell me Sven’s made his pizza.’

‘Not tonight, I’m afraid,’ he admits. ‘I got him to do something a little fancier for the occasion. Take a look.’

Shaking my head in mock disappointment, I lift the top, and immediately grin. Because there on the plate is the most delicious-looking cannelloni, still piping hot, steam rising off it. It’s coated in some sort of rich, red sauce, a shimmer of Parmesan on the top.

‘Oh wow,’ I say softly, recalling the little Italian we went to, how much I loved the food.

And he remembered it all.

‘I’d suggest eating it pretty fast, given the climate in our restaurant,’ Adam says pointing at the sky. ‘And on that note, I should probably also have worn a warmer coat than this number,’ he says, nodding at his jacket.

‘It’s very smart.’ I smile, touched at the effort.

‘And vaguely ridiculous?’ he says, raising one eyebrow, and we both start laughing.

Relaxing a little, we set the napkins Charlie clearly crafted for us to the side, and tuck into the food, immediately getting lost in conversation about our days: I tell him I tried knocking at William’s door, just to say hello, but he told me to bugger off again.

Adam suggests leaving a cake at the door next time, and I think I just might.

Then I fill him in about the photos I took at Calton Hill, and he talks about the finished suite of furniture for the client up north, which he’s dropping off in his van tomorrow.

‘You’re welcome to come along with me if you like?’ he says, his eyes flicking to mine, ‘make a day of it. You could even take some photos on the way.’

I find myself pausing. God, I’d love to go with him, but I just don’t know.

That definitely feels like an acceleration of whatever is happening here tonight.

Because I can’t deny that this isn’t about us being friends anymore, up here, in the most romantic setting of my life.

I can’t deny what I feel about him either, despite my fears about hurting him. Or me for that matter.

‘You don’t fool me,’ I say eventually, ‘you just want someone to chat to you on the way up.’

He laughs at that, that deep, genuine sound I love. He always makes me feel like the most interesting person in the world.

‘Well, maybe it’s also selfishly because I have a feeling you’d get on well with the client Magnus’s wife, Daphne,’ he says mysteriously. ‘She’d love to throw some scones at you too, I’m sure. Together sixty years, the two of them, if you can believe it.’

‘Is that . . .’ I start, ‘I mean, have you ever come close to being serious like that with anyone before?’

I’m not sure exactly why I’m asking the question – perhaps it’s the champagne or the night sky above or the candles – but he doesn’t miss a beat, as I should have known he wouldn’t.

‘Once,’ he says steadily. ‘Her name was Claire, and we were together for about two years, my longest relationship to date, but we broke up last summer.’

A twinge of jealousy jabs at me, though it’s ridiculous, really – of course he had a relationship before; he’s the most attractive guy I’ve met, in every sense.

I clear my throat. ‘So, why did you break up then?’

His eyes darken slightly in the candlelight. ‘It was good while it lasted,’ he says, swallowing. ‘But I’m not sure we were quite right for each other, and it wasn’t fair to either of us to keep it going. I’m not sure what we had was what it should feel like.’

‘And what should it feel like?’ I say without thinking.

But he just looks across at me softly, and my whole body tingles.

‘And you?’ he says, taking a sip of his champagne.

‘I guess I thought I’d come close to it once . . . but maybe not.’

‘Why not?’

I pause, unsure how much to reveal. The truth is so complicated. ‘We were just in very different places of our lives,’ I say eventually. ‘And in the end, he didn’t want the relationship quite enough to stay with me, so I let him go.’

Adam looks thoughtful for a moment, and I think he’s about to tell me something, when a gust of wind crosses us and he seems to stop himself.

‘I have something for you,’ he says, and reaches down under the table. A second later he places a white cardboard box in front of me and the moment is cut short.

‘I’m sorry it’s not wrapped,’ he says.

I smile quizzically at him. ‘What is it?’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘You’ll just have to open it.’

Taking the lid off, I peer through bubble wrap to see something black inside. Pulling it out, I look at him, amazed.

‘I think it’s the right one,’ he says quickly, leaning over. ‘I had a chat with the guy in the shop and he said that it was good.’

I look at the lens again, look at him. After the dinner set-up, it’s probably the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, though it’s not the lens exactly; it’s the sense that he understands that I’m wanting to grow and to change, and he’s 100 per cent behind me on it, no matter the outcome.

‘Thank you,’ I say finally.

For a moment, I don’t know what else to say, so I take the camera from the side of the chair, twist the lens into place with a satisfying click.

I walk across to the twinkling railing and stare out across the city.

The wind canters across my face as I raise the camera to my eye, zoom in on all the old spires and puffing chimneys and little squares of yellow on the buildings below – snapshots of life: a man washing up dishes in one; a woman laughing to someone in the background; two kids jumping up and down on a bed; a couple collapsing back on the sofa together.

I can see it all so clearly from up here.

What it could be like.

A scuffing noise. Lowering the camera again, I turn to find Adam right beside me, and he’s looking at me in this way that makes my heart beat faster than ever before. And this feeling, which started in my chest earlier, slowly spreads out around my body.

Is he about to kiss me?

Oh god, I don’t know if this is a good idea.

Then he turns and looks out towards the castle, and my stomach plummets. Maybe I’ve got this all wrong. Maybe that’s what he was talking about earlier, when he said he didn’t feel like how he should have about Claire. Maybe he also meant like us?

‘Told you it would be good for photos up here,’ he says, leaning forwards on the railing. I do the same, our arms just touching, and I can’t help but feel desperately sad for a moment.

‘Have you had a good evening?’ he asks, turning to face me. I feel his warm breath close to mine. My stomach does that flip again but I try to still myself.

‘I have,’ I say softly, then add, ‘You’re a really good guy, Adam.’

He smiles at me. ‘I just like being around you, Emily. Even if friends is as far as this ever goes.’

And in this moment, I know he doesn’t see me as he saw Claire at all, and I know this was that other feeling he was alluding to, because I’m pretty sure I feel it too. It’s been growing there for months now and, suddenly, it’s like a flame has been ignited in my chest.

He’s about to turn back to the castle again, when I reach for his hand and then our mouths are pressed against each other, and I have no idea who initiated it, him, me, both of us together, but it doesn’t matter.

We kiss in the night air, the taste of him new and familiar all at once, and I fall into it completely, pressing my body up against his, while his arms wrap tightly around me.

And with the fairy lights surrounding us and the starry sky above, everything else fades away to nothing.