Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (best classic romance novels txt) 📕

‘You’re my dream, Amy Ashton,’ said Tim. ‘And you’ve indulged me for years. If I was going to make it, I would have by now.’

‘You still could . . . ’ Amy stopped. She realised she didn’t really believe it.

‘I have good A levels,’ continued Tim, ‘but no degree and no experience. I’m not going to make loads of money anytime soon, but I’m going to start trying. Media sales, I was thinking. Simon’s brother does it, and he’s going to get me an interview. What do you think?’

Amy didn’t really know what media sales involved, but it didn’t sound like stacking shelves at the supermarket. She turned away from mirror-Tim to look at the real thing. He looked back at her, his face earnest. ‘It sounds great,’ she said. ‘You know I’d love you whatever you did?’

‘You’ve proved that,’ said Tim, with a laugh. ‘No one can accuse you of being with me for the glamour.’

‘You can still write songs?’ suggested Amy.

‘Of course,’ said Tim. He smiled at Amy. ‘Songs about selling adverts in Batteries International.’

‘Sounds like a hit,’ said Amy. She leaned in and kissed Tim, glancing at the mirror again. This time she saw two people who would love each other for ever.

‘I was starting to think you’d changed your mind.’ Liam stood up as she entered the bar. Amy had very much changed her mind. But she’d already cancelled once, and to do so again seemed too unkind.

He went to kiss her cheek, but Amy couldn’t face that so she held out her hand. He shook it and Amy found his hands damp and clammy. She was surprised. He didn’t strike her as the type to get nervous. She found that endeared him to her a little bit more and she smiled at him. ‘It was worth the wait,’ he said, looking her up and down. She was wearing something she hadn’t worn in years: a silky red shirt dress the colour of a cranberry. ‘Lady in red,’ he said, with a little half-wink. ‘This should be a fun evening.’

The endearment fizzled away. ‘Take a seat,’ he said awkwardly, as if he realised he was on the back foot again. He gestured to a smart, velvet-covered sofa. ‘I thought you’d like it here. It’s classy. More romantic than a supermarket sandwich.’

‘It’s a bit near the office,’ ventured Amy, looking around.

‘It’s fine,’ replied Liam. ‘None of the others would come to a nice place like this.’ He sat down next to Amy and rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind her in a studiously casual manner. Amy looked to the table. Two flute glasses and an ice bucket sat there, concealing most of what was probably a very beautiful bottle. Liam followed her gaze then leaned forwards, removing his arm again as he filled her glass and refilled his own. ‘I remember you drank Prosecco at drinks after work that time,’ he told her, looking pleased with himself. Amy found the shape of the bottle less appealing than wine. Its curves felt exaggerated, like a wine bottle that had had too much plastic surgery. ‘I got started without you,’ he added.

‘Sorry I was late,’ said Amy. ‘I had some paperwork to finish.’

‘It’s fine,’ replied Liam. ‘I hope you liked the flowers?’

‘They were lovely,’ said Amy, remembering the roses that had turned up at her house. ‘But how did you get my address?’

Liam tapped the side of his nose and Amy realised he must have been through the personnel files. ‘Beautiful roses for a beautiful woman,’ he said.

Amy took a deep swig from her glass. They sat in silence for a moment. Amy realised that although Liam might be nervous, she wasn’t at all. That couldn’t be right. She hadn’t been on a date in over a decade. She must be feeling something. Amy searched through her mind, looking for emotions.

All that registered was sadness.

She sipped her drink. Although she had accepted a glass of Prosecco at the work drinks, she didn’t really like it. In fact, she didn’t like bubbly drinks at all. Fresh homemade lemonade, red wine, pineapple juice, they were her taste. Tim never used to order for her. Even when he knew her so well, he’d always let her make her own choice.

But Tim wasn’t here, she reminded herself. There were worse things a man could do to you than order you Prosecco when you’d prefer a glass of red wine.

Much worse.

She smiled at Liam, trying to behave like someone on a date might. ‘So, you are new to the company,’ she stated.

‘I’ve been there three months now,’ he replied. ‘And you?’

‘Seventeen years,’ she said. ‘Off and on.’ He looked startled. ‘It was meant to be a summer job, while I was at university,’ she explained. ‘Then things happened, and I kind of . . . got stuck.’

‘Lucky for me,’ he said with a wink.

Winking. Ordering for her. He wasn’t making it easy for her to like him. She looked at him, searching for something to find attractive. He wasn’t a bad-looking man; he had nice hair, and all his own teeth, even if they were a shade too bright. It wasn’t as though she was much of catch herself, she thought. Middle-aged, emotionally drained, house overflowing. The personals ad didn’t write itself.

Did people still have personals ads? She’d heard the girls in the office talk about online dating and apps. Swiping right. It sounded hellish.

Liam was right here, refilling her drink and saying something. He laughed at whatever joke he’d made and Amy forced a polite little titter from herself. His shirt buttons were pulling slightly around his stomach. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t in shape either. Good. Amy didn’t like muscle-bound men. Chantel had always gone crazy for muscles, but Amy preferred her men a little softer, a little more delicate. She’d always found Jack’s ostentatious strength unnerving. She didn’t see why you’d want a partner