“There are definitely some perks to the single life.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m turning forty in a few months and things are starting to feel different, I suppose—with my mum and also my friends all having kids and busy lives. Living in Wychwood isn’t actually a swinging singles paradise, not that I’d want that scene.”

“True. So what do you want out of life now?”

“Wow, deep question.”

“No point pussyfooting around, is there? We don’t spend enough time pondering the deep questions, in my opinion.”

“No, I don’t suppose we do.” Olivia took a sip of wine, considering. “I suppose I’m a little scared,” she admitted, surprised at how vulnerable she was being—and yet Simon had already seen her vulnerable, back in the hospital and afterwards.

“Scared of what?”

“The future. Living the rest of it alone. I’ve got Dr Jekyll of course, but as you know he’s a changeable creature.”

“There’s still time, though, isn’t there?” He smiled wryly. “I’m forty-one in April and I’m still hoping there is.”

“Time for what, exactly?” Olivia decided to be direct. “Because in terms of the whole bumps-and-babies thing, there probably isn’t, for me.” Which perhaps was too much information, but she knew some men set a lot of store by these things. Back in London, she’d seen far too many men her own age preferring a younger, more fertile model.

“I suppose it depends. I can’t say I’m an expert, but in any case I wasn’t speaking so much of kids as life partner. Love, marriage, that sort of thing.”

“Ah. Well, here’s hoping.”

“Yes.” His voice dropped a notch, taking on a not-so-subtle meaning that made Olivia’s insides fizz. “Here’s hoping.”

Thankfully then they kept the conversation lighter, talking about village life and art and music, and then Simon fetched a pair of menus in case they wanted any food.

Olivia realised she was enjoying herself; she’d let go of her nerves and worries and was simply revelling in being with someone who was witty and interesting and attractive, and more importantly, interested in her. She loved how Simon gave her his full attention, his gaze both warm and alert, so clearly listening to everything she said. It was a rare gift in any person, to be so fully present and involved.

They ordered a couple of starters and shared them; Olivia didn’t even mind gnawing at a buffalo wing in front of him, getting sauce on her chin in the process, and no doubt shreds of meat between her teeth.

“So, do you think you’ll stay in Wychwood long-term?” she asked after they’d polished off a plate of wings as well as another of nachos.

“I think for the time being, yes. It’s good to be close to my sister, and I was getting priced out of London anyway.”

“You live with your sister?” Olivia asked, and that surprised, slightly guarded look came into Simon’s eyes, which made her realise she shouldn’t have known that. “Sorry, my friend again. She mentioned it.”