Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Rose

It's Saturday night and I'm alone in my bedroom, staring at a pile of clothes on my bed, wearing nothing but a full face of make-up, underwear, and my dressing gown. I'm starting to regret agreeing to a posh dinner. With no idea what to wear and not much time left to get ready, what should be an exciting evening is quickly becoming a stressful nightmare.

I always enjoyed going out for nice meals when I could, but when I started dating Malcolm he made every outing into such an ordeal that I quickly lost my love of eating out. Logically, I know Phillip won't complain about what I wear or send his food back just to be a dick, he's proved himself to be a better man than Malcolm in every way. That doesn't make me any less nervous. Irrational fear that I've somehow forgotten how to date has me second-guessing everything.

I desperately want tonight to go well. Taking our budding relationship beyond the walls of Phillip's house makes everything that's been growing between us feel much more real. It's a big step. But it's a step I need to take if I want this to go anywhere. And I do want more with Phillip. More than I probably should so early on. Since we met, he has been fighting his way past all my defences and now there is no resistance left. I have shared more with him than any guy I've dated. We've talked about things I would normally only share with Aria, if I chose to tell anyone at all. It might be fast, but I can already imagine a future with him.

The alarm on my phone goes off, alerting me to the fact I only have thirty minutes until Phillip is due to pick me up. Time to call in reinforcements.

"I need your help," I beg Aria.

Her crystal-blue gaze darts up and down the length of my body before she raises a brow and replies, "I see that. Come on then." Springing up from where she was lounging on the sofa, she ushers me back into my bedroom with a grin.

"Well at least you're not short of options." Sarcasm drips from her voice as she stares at the tangle of skirts, dresses, and tops strewn across my bed. Aria begins pawing through the pile with her elegantly manicured hands.

"I'm blaming you for this. If you hadn't encouraged me to get to know Phillip better, none of this would be happening," I gripe, too on edge for her teasing no matter how good-natured.

"You're welcome for that by the way," she responds drily. "Put this on." A cream silk vest top is thrust into my hands. Obediently, I hang up my dressing gown and pull on the top. I haven't worn it for ages and forgot how flattering it is. The cowl neckline drapes artfully over my cleavage, striking the perfect balance of sexy yet tasteful.

"This." She tosses a light pink skirt my way that I fumble to catch before tugging it on. The hemline falls a couple of inches above my knees and the soft layers of tulle add movement without being so puffy that I risk looking like a cupcake.

Turning to my wardrobe in search of jacket options she pulls out one of my favourites: a lilac leather-look jacket. Last time I wore it Malcolm told me I looked like I was cosplaying a unicorn. I remember being surprised that he had even heard of cosplay. After that, I stuck to black or brown jackets and plainer clothes. I quite enjoyed the idea of a unicorn-esque look—if Aria had said something similar it would have been a compliment, but I knew that wasn't how he meant it. We were going for drinks with his friends and he thought they wouldn't take me—and by extension him—seriously. I stayed with that shithead way too long.

A small smile plays on my lips as I put on the jacket. Aria looks me up and down, lips pursed in concentration.

"Shoes?"

"Do you think my Docs will work?" She cocks her head appraisingly before giving a firm nod.

"Yeah, the pink matches the skirt which will help tie everything together and the jacket means you don't need more delicate footwear." Relieved to have the comfort of my favourite shoes, I sit on the edge of the bed and pull them on.

"What do you think?" I give Aria a little spin and the skirt swishes, making me feel pretty and delicate.

"Perfect. He won't know what's hit him." She grins, clapping her hands together. "My work here is done. Have fun." A gentle cloud of light perfume wafts over me as Aria wraps me in a quick hug before leaving the room.

Choosing a small, cream-coloured, handbag for the night, I'm just dropping my stuff inside when the buzzer rings signalling Phillip's arrival. Butterflies soar in my stomach as I hurry towards the front door.

"Hi." I step back, opening the door fully, giving Phillip a clear view of my outfit for the first time.

"Wow." His heated gaze greedily roves over every inch of me as he steps into the flat, the door swinging shut behind him. Confidence boosted by his reaction, I give him a playful twirl, the hemline of my skirt flirting with my thighs.

"You like it?"

"There's not a word strong enough for what you're doing to me right now," he answers, voice dipping low with desire as he steps closer. Overwhelmed by his intensity, I shuffle backwards until I bump into the wall, a soft gasp escaping me. Phillip's eyes darken, zeroing in on my mouth at the sound. He raises one hand to the wall to the side of my head as if needing its strength to hold himself upright. I'm entranced by his closeness. His pine and mint scent swirls around me, making me dizzy with desire and my tongue darts out to wet my lips. He leans closer, gaze jumping between my eyes and parted lips, searching for my permission before going any further.

"Unless you say otherwise, I'm going to finally taste that tempting mouth of yours. That OK with you?" he asks, voice thick with lust.

My breaths come rapidly, heart racing in anticipation, and I have to swallow a couple of times before finding my voice. Finally able to answer, my breathy "Yes" is all it takes.

Phillip closes the last of the distance between us, capturing my mouth with his. The kiss is surprisingly tender given the tension thickening the air, but I get the sense he's trying to be a gentleman and not rush things. The thought has me fighting back a smile. If I have it my way, Phillip will be willing to abandon his gentlemanly restraint by the end of the evening. His navy suit trousers brush against my bare legs and I reach up to grip the lapels of the matching jacket, tugging him closer still.

The man makes work jeans and a t-shirt look sexier than anyone has a right to, but Phillip in a suit? Damn . I had not been prepared. The blue brings out his eyes and the top button of his crisp white shirt is undone, offering a tantalising glimpse of the base of his throat. Until this moment I hadn't realised throats could be sexy, but now I want to trace the skin there with my tongue. Nerves banished and replaced with desire, I'm already looking forward to coming home after dinner so I can carefully undo each and every one of those shirt buttons.

"Rose." Phillip presses his forehead against mine for a beat before taking a reluctant step back, his large hands trailing down the sides of my arms like he can't bring himself to let go of me completely. It feels good knowing I'm not the only one affected. "If we stay here any longer, we won't make it to dinner and it would be a damn shame if I'm the only one who gets to see how beautiful you look."

"You want other people looking at me?" I tease.

"They can look." Calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair from my face as he leans down, breath hot against my ear when he continues, a rasp to his voice, "I know I'm the only one who gets to touch." He nips my earlobe before stepping back with a smirk.

Fuck me . My core clenches and I clear my throat, flustered. He chuckles and the deep sound sends a shudder of pleasure through me. How someone can imbue such simple words with that level of confidence and heat is beyond me. Being the sole focus of his attention is intoxicating and I don't doubt that he knows exactly what he's doing to me. Straightening up and regaining some of my composure, I brush against him, walking closer than necessary as I pass him to re-open the door.

"Let's go." I wave a hand indicating he should lead the way and he smirks, sending a delightful shiver down my spine. It's going to be a long night.

The table Phillip booked is at an upscale Italian restaurant I have never been to before. Gold accents adorn the walls and bright white tablecloths blanket the tables like the first snow of winter. The portly host wears a sharp suit and tie, greeting us with a wide smile before leading us to a quiet corner table, and Phillip pulls out my chair for me before the host has a chance to. Maybe he is a gentleman after all—just one with a secretly filthy side I hope to make the most of later.

Nobody I dated in the past ever pulled out my chair for me. It wasn't something I thought I needed from a man, I was perfectly capable of pulling out my own chair and holding my own doors, but now Phillip is treating me to his old-school manners I find myself singing a different tune. It's another layer to his charm and I enjoy basking in the glow of his attention.

We've just been presented with drink menus, and as I look up to thank the waiter I spot a man I never wanted to see again, let alone while on a first date, walking towards us. My stomach drops like I'm on a rollercoaster, taking my appetite with it. If this moment were a ride I'd be screaming for someone to let me get off. My heart beats frantically as brown eyes meet mine, a smug smile transforming what would otherwise be a handsome face.

"Rose, I'm surprised to see you here."

Phillip's head snaps up from his drink menu, questioning eyes looking between me and the stranger at our table.

"Malcolm." I greet him with a curt bob of my head. In my peripheral I notice Phillip's posture stiffen at the name, his grip on the menu tightening.

"This is Angelica." I've been so distracted by Malcolm's presence that I only notice he's not alone when he introduces me to the stunning woman standing just behind him. She's short with voluptuous curves and deep-brown, tightly coiled curls that frame her face perfectly.

"Nice to meet you." I smile at her politely. It's not her fault Malcolm's an irredeemable arsehole. Before she can respond Malcolm dominates the conversation again and her brown eyes dart to him in annoyance.

"And who's this?" He sneers at Phillip, making me bristle with irritation.

"Phillip." The man in question does not offer Malcolm his hand to shake, choosing instead to fix him with a hard look.

"Interesting. Mother mentioned running into you just the other week and told me you weren't seeing anyone."

"It's new," I grit out through clenched teeth.

"Ah, I see." He smiles smugly and I notice Angelica frowning as she looks between the two of us. "Did you know Rose fancies herself an artist?"

"She is an artist," Phillip states blankly.

"Oh, come on Rose, tell the man the truth. You can't start a relationship based on lies," he tells me with a condescending smile that makes me want to throat-punch him. Discreetly, I practice making a fist under the table, trying to remember if your thumb is supposed to go on the inside of the fist or outside when you hit someone. Ah, outside it is. Not that I'll actually do it, but imagining taking a swing at Malcolm is making me feel better. He turns to Phillip, gleefully informing him, "It's been months since Rose here has sold a painting. She's hardly fit to call herself an artist."

"That's enough," Phillip snaps.

"See, Rose, the truth always comes out eventually."

"No. That's enough out of you ," Phillip growls, glaring at Malcolm. "Rose is an incredibly talented artist who happens to be taking a break right now so she can work on a project to help out a friend."

Malcolm snorts. "Not that silly little princess thing? Really, Rose?" he asks, sounding more like a disappointed parent than an ex-boyfriend.

"Just stop," I command, voice firm but low enough not to cause a scene. "My life is no longer your business. You stopped being entitled to any say in it the moment I broke up with you. I only wish it hadn't taken me so long. And it's not a ‘silly little princess thing'. Aria runs her own business, which is more than I can say for you." I look him up and down disdainfully. "It's time for you to leave. Phillip and I were having a lovely evening and I won't let you spoil any more of it."

Adrenaline courses through my veins, making me feel giddy. I've never stood up to Malcolm like this before. Not even when I ended things. His face is flushed bright red and he huffs out an indignant breath before grabbing Angelica by the arm and tugging her forward.

"Come on, we're leaving." But Angelica doesn't move. Instead, the petite woman digs in her heels and tilts her chin up at him stubbornly.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"What? Don't be ridiculous." He tugs at her arm again and she yanks it free. There are a few eyes on our group now which only riles Malcolm up even further. "I'm not going to stay here and let her talk to me that way."

Angelica raises an incredulous brow. "From what I've seen, you deserved that and more. We're done, Malcolm. You should go, I'll have the restaurant call me a taxi."

"You can't be serious?" he splutters. "You're breaking up with me because of her? She's trying to wind me up and cause problems on purpose because she's jealous that we're happy." He sneers in my direction and I fight the urge to shrink back at the malice in his eyes. I'm done hiding from men like him. Never again. "Don't let her ruin this."

"No," Angelica begins calmly. "I'm ending things because tonight you've shown me who you really are, and I want nothing to do with it. Go home Malcolm and don't call me."

"You little bitch, you think you're better than me now, is that it?" He takes a menacing step forward, but before he's able to unleash any more of his vitriol the host steps between the pair.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he states firmly. Malcolm's head whips around and he flushes an even deeper shade of crimson when he notices most of the diners are now watching the spectacle he's making of himself.

"Fine. But don't think I'll ever come back here." With that he storms out.

"I should hope not," the host mutters under his breath before turning to look at Angelica with kind eyes. "Would you like me to call a car for you, Miss?"

"That would be great."

"Please follow me to the bar and I'll get that taken care of."

She sighs in relief then turns towards me. "I'm sorry about?—"

"You don't need to apologise for that dickhead's behaviour." I wave her off and she stands a little taller.

"You're right." She nods once. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening." I watch as she follows the host over to the bar, glad it looks like she'll be OK.

"Well, that was an eventful start to the night," Phillip jokes, chasing away the last of the unpleasantness. "Are you alright?"

"I feel pretty good actually," I reply, surprise colouring my tone. "In a way, I think I needed that—to know I can stand up for myself when it matters."

"You were brilliant." He smiles and I'm unable to hold back my answering grin.

"Thank you."

"Have you always been close with your brother?" I ask, toying with the stem of my wineglass. Discounting the earlier drama, it's been a relaxed evening full of wonderful food and conversation. We each had a starter of figs and goats' cheese and I chose the aubergine parmigiana for my main.

Phillip didn't bat an eye when I got out my small plastic travel case, switching to my own cutlery partway through the main course because the restaurant utensils were too awkward. Unfortunately, fancy restaurants often mean fancy cutlery that weighs a lot more than necessary and my hands can't always manage. Where other people might make a big deal out of it, Phillip just checked I was alright and moved on straight away once he knew everything was fine.

Now our desserts have arrived and I don't want the night to end. Phillip chuckles softly, the gentle light and flickering candles of the restaurant highlighting his handsome features.

"We had our moments when we were kids and the four-year age gap led to a few spats in our teenage years. Mum and Dad had the patience of saints dealing with the crap we got up to."

"Like what?"

He ponders for a moment, blue eyes sparkling with mischief when he thinks of a good story. "When I was twelve, I decided I wanted to make Eric something for Christmas. I'd been carving for a while and thought it would be cool to make a nameplate for his bedroom door because you know every teenage boy wants a hand-carved sign on their door, right?"

"Of course." I nod in agreement with mock-seriousness.

"I spent ages working on it. Every spare moment went into this thing, right?" I nod. "I was so proud of it, thought it was going to be his favourite present of the year, possibly ever."

"What happened?"

"Well, I'd bigged it up so much, telling Eric I had the most awesome present for him, so when he opened it to find a hand- carved nameplate it was pretty anticlimactic. At sixteen my brother hadn't quite mastered his poker face yet so even though he said the right stuff I knew he hated it."

"Why do I feel like there's more?"

"Because you're a smart woman." He grins cheekily. "So, detective that I am, I go into his room on Boxing Day to see where he's put it since it obviously wasn't going on the door. I thought he might have displayed it on his desk or something."

"Where was it?" I bit my lip already cringing on his behalf.

"The bin."

"No," I gasp.

"Oh yeah." He shakes his head. "Right in the top of the bin next to his desk, not even hidden under anything. I was so mad ."

"What did you do?"

"Revenge was one hundred percent necessary, obviously," he deadpans.

"Obviously," I agree, biting back a smile.

"I took the name plate right then and hid it underneath my pillow. It wasn't unusual for me to spend a lot of time in the garage workshop but the rule was my dad had to be in there too just in case I hurt myself—can't be too careful with kids when there are tools around. Anyway, I snuck out there in the afternoon while everyone else was chilling out in the living room in front of Christmas films, knowing my parents would fall asleep and wouldn't come looking for me. I made a little something extra as fast as I could then hid it upstairs as well. That night, after everyone went to bed, I struck." A giggle escapes me at his dramatic storytelling.

"I glued the name plate to my brother's door, except now instead of just ‘Eric' I added the extra piece so it said ‘Eric sucks.' Not the most creative insult but I was only twelve."

My eyes widen. "I bet your parents were livid."

"Mum and Eric were so angry. Dad thought it was funny but pretended to take the whole thing very seriously. They were going to make me take it off and repaint Eric's door but when Mum found out why I did it she decided Eric deserved to live with it for a while."

My mouth drops open in shock as he laughs at the memory. "She did not!" His mum sounds awesome. "What was your punishment then, or did you get away with it, being the baby of the family?"

"Oh no, I was punished," he assures me. "I was banned from the workshop for a whole month and they took my phone so I couldn't talk to my friends over Christmas break. Worth it though. The sign's still up." He smirks.

"Seriously?"

"Yep, that sucker isn't coming off without some serious elbow grease. Luckily it kind of grew on Eric in the end—after he moved out for uni and didn't have to keep explaining to his friends why his own door said he sucked." I snort and Phillip's eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement at the undignified sound. "When he decorated his house, Eric wanted to take the sign down and put it on the door of his home office but Mum said she'd miss it if it wasn't there. I made him a new one that Christmas."

"Your family sounds so…"

"Ridiculous?"

"I was going to say fun. And close. It must be nice." He cocks his head, assessing me shrewdly.

"Do you think your parents will make more of an effort one day?"

"I doubt it." My shoulders slump like my body is trying to curl in and protect itself from the unpleasantness. "We were closer when I was younger but they've always been very traditional. Even if all the issues that came up between us around my health stuff never happened, I don't think we'd be close. Maybe just a bit less strained? They thought I was acting up for attention. Even after I finally found out what was causing my health problems, they didn't make an effort to understand. Neither of them understood why I wanted to study art either." I relax back in my chair, taking another sip of wine. "I mean, I get it, it's not a career you pursue if you're looking for job security, so I understand why they worried. I just wish they had made an effort to see where I was coming from too." Setting my glass down I mumble, "I don't think they've ever seen any of my work and I stopped offering to show them a long time ago."

Phillip's large hand settles over mine where it rests on the table, the comforting warmth soothing the part of me that, in spite of everything, still wants my parents to be proud of me.

"That's rough, I'm sorry."

"It's OK. Well, it's not OK but there's no changing it now. I think if maybe when I shared my diagnosis with them they had apologised for not believing me, we might have been able to move on but they just can't get past the fact that I look fine on the outside. Aria and Bel are my family now." I smile even though it feels a little forced. Sometimes it frustrates me that my lack of relationship with my parents still bothers me, but there's a lot of hurt there and I don't think you ever fully get over being let down by the people who are supposed to love you the most.

"I'm glad you have them. Family is important and the family we choose matters just as much as, sometimes more than, blood."

I knew he would understand. "Thank you."

"Rest assured my mum will love you," he tells me brightly, lifting the mood. "The first Sunday lunch I take you to she'll welcome you to the family faster than you can say ‘pass the potatoes', I guarantee it."

Nearly choking on the bite of chocolate cake I just took, I struggle to swallow it down. "You want me to meet your family?" I squeak, voice an octave higher than usual.

"Yeah, if you're open to that. I know it's fast but I'm serious about this, Rose. I'm serious about you," he admits earnestly. "My family are a big part of my life and I'd like to introduce you to them. We have lunch together every Sunday. If you'd like, you could join us next week? If not, we can wait until whenever you're ready."

"I'd like to come to lunch if you're sure your family will be OK with that. Oh, does this mean I get to hear more stories about you playing tricks on your brother?" I tease. His gaze softens and tension I hadn't noticed him holding disappears as his shoulders lower.

"It will be fine. Mum's already keen to meet you. I may have mentioned you a couple of times." His cheeks flush with embarrassment. "When I see her tomorrow, I'll let her know you'll be joining us next time." Nerves and excitement battle within me. I've only done the whole ‘meet the parents' thing once before with Malcolm's family and it was a disaster. If you'd asked me a couple of weeks ago, I would have said I didn't want to deal with all that stress again anytime soon, but for Phillip I'm willing to face just about anything.

We stay at the restaurant talking late into the evening until they start getting ready to close. Phillip insists on paying since it's our first proper date. I allow it, but warn him I'll be getting the bill next time. Ready to leave, we walk towards the front of the restaurant and he slips his hand into mine. I didn't think I would ever be a fan of PDA, but find myself enjoying having someone to share those small meaningful touches with. Maybe that's because it's Phillip doing the touching.