“It’s like soap and flowers. But loud.”
Jasper snorts. Geoff grins. “Well, you heard the expert.”
“She’s not wrong,” Jasper adds, waving a hand in front of his nose. “Bit much. You smell like a posh hotel lobby.”
“Brilliant,” I mutter, tugging at my jumper. “Exactly the vibe I was going for.”
Geoff sets down his plastic cup with all the care of someone holding posh crockery. “Right, well, before you embarrass yourself entirely… I booked you a table atThe Green Lamp.”
I blink. “You what?”
“The Green Lamp,” he repeats. “Michelin-starred. Fancy, but not stiff. Romantic without being cheesy. Perfect for a first date where you want to impress her.”
I pause. “Geoff, that place is booked out for months.”
He shrugs, smug. “I know someone who knows someone. You’re welcome.”
I glance between them, suddenly less sure. “I don’t know... is that too much? She’snot— we’re not—”
“Youare,” Jasper cuts in. “Youaregoing on a date, and for once in your life, you need to stop overthinking it and just go.”
Geoff nods. “Yeah. Stop being Theo the Sensible, Theo the organised coffee guy, Theo the responsible single dad who always carries spare tissues. Tonight, just be the bloke who wants to take a woman out and show her a good time.”
“You make that sound... easy.”
“Itiseasy,” Jasper says. “You’re the only one making it hard.”
I take a breath, glancing at Lucy, who’s now trying to balance a biscuit on Geoff’s head. “She’s just... different.”
Geoff’s grin softens. “Exactly. Which is why you don’t take her to that local Italian where they know your order and always give you extra pity garlic bread because you are single.”
I groan. “Alright, message received.”Come on, Theo. You are forty-three years old, not a teenager on the way to his first ever date!
Geoff stands, stretching. “Green Lamp’s booked for seven. Go. Enjoy yourself. And for God’s sake, don’t start talking about coffee bean origins unless she brings it up first.”
I snort. “Noted. No monologues about roasting profiles.”
“Unless it ends withyougetting roasted,” Jasper mutters, ducking before I can slap him on the head.
Ivy’s already waiting outside when I get there, leaning against the doorframe like she does this sort of thing all the time—cool, composed, and completely unaware she’s currently short-circuiting my brain.
Her leather trousers are doing things to my self-control. So is the top—fitted, confident, possibly designed in a lab to challenge single fathers trying to behave themselves.
“Hey,” she says, smile easy, as she joins me and places a kiss on my cheek.
“Hi.” My voice cracks slightly.Brilliant start.
We walk to the curb where the Uber’s waiting, and I open the door for her—a rare, possibly extinct bit of chivalry I dusted off for the occasion.
Once we’re inside and moving, the awkward hits in full force. Ivy looks effortlessly glamorous. I’m sweating lightly under my jumper and trying to remember how to sit like a relaxed, confident man instead of someone waiting for exam results.
“You look...” I begin, then instantly regret not workshopping the sentence in advance. “...structured.”
She turns her head slowly. “Structured?”
I nod. “Yeah. You know... put together. In a really... architecturally strong sort of way.”
She lets out a laugh. “So I look like a building.”
