Rockabilly Romance

Paul sipped the shiraz and suppressed a grimace. Why had he ordered an entire bottle? He hated wine. To impress Libby, of course. Just like the three bunches of Valentine’s roses he’d presented when he’d picked her up—one for her, one for her daughter, one for her mum. Libby laughed. “Why did you order wine?” She hadn’t touched her glass. Paul’s cheeks warmed. “I, uh... wanted dinner to be special.” The server appeared. “Veal?” Thank goodness for the interruption. “Yes, thanks.” She slid the plate of meat and vegetables in front of him. “And the pasta?” “That’s mine. And could we please order another couple of drinks?” “Of course.” The server gave Libby her meal. “Two pale ales and the wine lid, if you can find it.” Man, he loved this woman. Had it really only been four months since he’d met her? He felt like he’d known her his whole life. The server returned with their drinks and placed the screw cap on the table between them. Libby and Paul both reached for the lid. As her hands brushed his, Paul’s breath caught. Libby raised her ale. “To us.” Three little words swelled inside him. Not now. After dinner, when they had some privacy. Clinking his glass to hers, Paul let three other words out, instead.“Happy Valentine’s Day.” They both ate, conversation flowing easily between mouthfuls. “How did your gig go on the weekend?” Libby asked. “Yeah, good. We kept the dance floor full all night, though the quality of dancing dropped off.” Libby raised her eyebrows. Paul shrugged. “Open bar, what else would you expect?” “Chloe begged me all Saturday to take her to see you play. Didn’t matter how many times I explained you were at a private party and it wasn’t appropriate for us to go. She insisted that,”—Libby mimicked her daughter’s cutesy voice—“Sir Paul doesn’t sing swear words. Either does Rick and Billy. They are pro-pee-ate.” Libby shook her head and smiled. “Yep, she still thinks Jodie’s name is Billy.” Paul played double bass in a rockabilly band, along with Jodie on drums, and Rick on lead guitar and lead vocals. It was Rick’s band, so he’d named it after himself. The Rick-a-billy trio. The play-on-words was far beyond the comprehension of a five-year-old girl. Paul chuckled. “It definitely wasn’t the place for a five-year-old. Speaking of the little princess, how did your dinner with Daniel go on Friday night? Is he happy to negotiate his days?” He’d been trying to get Libby to come to a dance lesson since they’d met. She hadn’t wanted to start so late in the term last year, at least that was the excuse she made. This year, her daughter was the reason. Libby’s mother was busy on Monday nights so couldn’t babysit. Libby had been reluctant to ask her ex-husband to pick up the slack but Paul’s persistent encouragement had empowered her to ask for what she wanted. That’s how he imagined it, anyway. “He said he’d love to keep her for an extra day on his weekends but he was worried that having her every Monday night would upset her routine too much. We agreed to trial an extra night every second weekend for a few months and go from there.” Paul stuffed down his disappointment.“That’s fair enough.” As much as he wanted Libby to himself all the time, he respected that her daughter’s welfare would always be her priority. That was one reason he loved her. And if he was honest with himself, he’d fallen in love with her daughter, too. Paul laid his cutlery across his plate. “Want dessert?” He hoped she’d say no. Not because of the money. A slice of cake wouldn’t put a dent in his savings. He just wanted to get out of there. Go somewhere quieter. More private. “Nah. I’m stuffed.” Libby dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “That was so yummy. I think we’ve found our favourite restaurant. Next time we come to Marcello’s, I’ll skip the entrée. The dessert menu looked amazing.” “Sounds like a plan.” Paul picked up the brand new wallet that Libby had given him just after they’d placed their orders that evening. He ran his finger over the embossed pin-up-girl. “Did I tell you how much I love this?” “You did.” Libby smirked. “I’ll go break it in, then we’ll get out of here.” His old wallet still needed to be cleaned out, but he’d transferred his bank card into this gift as soon as he’d unwrapped it. Well, right after he’d inhaled the new leather scent. Leather was one of his favourite scents, along with coffee and Libby. *** THEIR CONVERSATION halted as they left Marcello’s, drowned out by the screeching of a gazillion rainbow lorikeets roosting in the Norfolk Pines on the foreshore. Libby slipped her arm through Paul’s as they crossed the road, as much to help her balance on her patent red stilettos as to be close to him. His car wasn’t much further. She’d make it. They stepped onto the footpath and turned left. “Isn’t the car back that way?” Libby gestured behind her. “It is. I thought we’d go for a walk. It’s still early.” “Sure. Let’s go down near the water. That should be far enough from these blasted birds so I don’t have to shout at you.” And a great excuse to go barefoot. Her legs might look amazing in heels but if she didn’t get these shoes off soon, her toes would implode. Paul chuckled. “They are a bit noisy.” Libby teetered along the path, her gaze locked on the park bench a few metres ahead. Her form-fitting dress wasn’t exactly designed for bending over to retrieve her shoes from the ground. “I might just slip these off now,” she said as she eased herself onto the wooden seat. “Good idea.” Paul joined her on the bench, kicking off his loafers and rolling up the hems of his chinos. Looping a finger through the heel straps, she stood and slipped her other hand into Pauls. Her stride lengthened to match his as they walked towards the moonlit sea. The parrot-chatter faded away, replaced by the sound of waves rolling onto the shore. Libby pressed her toes into the soft sand, the coolness soothing her aching feet. When they reached the firm sand, Paul dropped his loafers on the ground. “Leave your shoes here. We won’t go far.” Libby looked warily up and down the deserted beach. “Okay.” She half-squatted, letting the shiny shoes fall from her fingers to land softly in the sand beside his. She adjusted the thin strap on the small leather bag slung across her body. It didn’t quite go with her outfit but it was the perfect size for her phone and keys and had just enough extra room to stash the gift she’d bought for Paul. There was no way she would leave it with her shoes. She had to have her phone with her at all times, just in case her daughter needed her. Chloe was safe with her nan, the woman had raised Libby but there was always a possibility of something going wrong. And Libby would always be there for Chloe. She’d do anything for her. Libby slipped her hand into Paul’s and they strolled down to the water’s edge. The cool water lapped over her toes then retreated. A shiver travelled up her body. “Cold?” “Maybe a little.” They took a few steps back up the beach then Paul wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. Her back pressed against his hard chest. Heat seeped through his shirt, warming her to the core. She turned, slipping her arms around his neck as she came to face him. She felt safe. Content. This moment was perfect. She didn’t want a single thing to change. His hands slid down her back, coming to rest on her hips. He swayed. She sank into his embrace, shuffling in the sand as he smoothly guided her from side to side. Where rockabilly was fast and frantic, this dance was slow and sensual. There was no music. They danced to the rolling waves, to their gentle breaths, to the unspoken melody she chanted within. I love you. I love you. I love you. Libby’s hands became clammy. How could she be thinking those words? It was too soon. They’d only been dating for four months. Her body stiffened. Paul leant back. “Are you okay?” Libby’s heart pounded. No. She was not okay. She was spiralling into a panic attack. “I was just thinking about Chloe. I should call her.” Libby grabbed her bag and fumbled at the zipper. “Won’t she be asleep by now?” Libby glanced at her watch. Chloe was usually asleep well before nine. “Probably. I should check in with Mum, though. Make sure everything is alright.” Her mum would have called if something was wrong. Libby knew that. Paul slid his fingertips down her arms and took hold of both Libby’s hands. “Libby.” She looked up and met his gaze. “Take a deep breath.” She inhaled, holding his gaze. The pounding in her chest slowed. She released the air slowly. His eyes seemed to darken as his expression softened. “You are a wonderful mother. It’s one of the reasons I love you.” He what? He loves me? Libby’s heart rate picked right up again. “I...” She wrenched the zipper on her bag open and plunged her hand in, grasping at her phone. “I’ll just check my phone. Mum might have called.” Libby’s fingers trembled as she swiped through her blank notifications. Paul gently grasped her hands. “Talk to me. What’s really going on?” Libby met his patient gaze and her fears tumbled out. “I’m scared. It’s too soon. I want this, I want us—but what if it doesn’t work out? What if I mess up?” Her voice broke. “What if I’m just not meant to find love again?” Paul enfolded her in his arms. “You listen to me,” he said, his voice fierce yet tender. “You are kind, strong, beautiful—any man would be lucky to win your heart. Your ex was a fool to let you go.” He leaned back, cupping her face in his hands. “I know relationships take work. I know there are risks. But when I’m with you, everything feels... right. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Libby.” A tear rolled down her cheek. Paul brushed it away with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “And neither is my love for you.” His words unlocked something inside her. Libby threw her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly as her remaining fears dissolved like sandcastles at high tide. Paul held her close. “I’ve got you.” he whispered. “Always.” Libby believed him. With Paul beside her, her broken heart had learned to beat again—and she knew his was the steady rhythm it had been waiting to match. She pulled back and gazed up at him through fresh tears. But these were tears of joy, of relief, of love found anew. “Paul?” Her voice didn’t waver now. “I love you too.” His smile lit up the night. Paul lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her tenderly at first, then passionately as she melted against him. Her fingers laced through his hair, clinging to this man who saw her, knew her, loved her—and who she trusted completely. The ache of past sorrow faded away, replaced only by a feeling of coming home.