A Loving Light
Copyright© 2026 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 25: Chez Philippe
As planned, we took Marie out on Friday evening to celebrate her promotion. A quick text to Chloë got our group access to the VIP section of Central Pier.
This was followed by another message from the Hollywood Superstar and, increasingly, my business partner.
We should talk about an investment when I get back then you won’t have to ask me for access, you’ll be a real VIP
I stared at the message for a second or two when I received it. I was sitting between Marie and Lana.
“What is it?” Marie asked.
I showed her.
“Well, makes sense, I guess,” she said. “At this rate, you’ll have a finger in every pie in town.”
Lana and I were drinking non-alcoholic champagne in solidarity with Marie, but we were the only ones. By the time I got the text, Lily had downed half a bottle of the real stuff.
It was a good night, and it cemented in my head that I’d moved on from Amanda and her usual night-out crew—which was a good thing since they were all in their final year and would be moving on with their lives in a few months.
Instead, I had a new core friendship group. A chosen family. Imogen and Mark, Vanessa and Mickey, Mickey’s small group of close friends who’d be working on our houses over Easter with Mark, and, of course, Marie, Lily and Lana.
The three of them seemed to be getting ever closer—especially now that Marie had agreed to move in with them for the final two years of their degrees. They were going to take the three-bed semi closest to my own house, and it was all that the three of them could talk about when we first got to the club.
As much as my business life was changing at an alarming pace, my personal life was changing too. Old friends were moving on, and new friends were taking their place. Friends who seemed to be embedding themselves in my life for a long time to come.
Of course, I didn’t realise that the single biggest change in my personal life was right around the corner.
I should have seen it coming.
And in some ways, I did. Just not this quickly.
The signs had been there for a while now. I’d just not seen them because I hadn’t been looking in the right direction.
“Do you have any idea how excited she is about tomorrow?” Marie said to me after Lana and Lily had left our table to go to the ladies’ room.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too. I’ve never been to that type of concert and—”
“Not that, you idiot.”
“Idiot?”
She grinned. “Yes, idiot. I’m not your assistant anymore, I’m your MD. I can call you an idiot when you’re being one. You don’t want me to just be a ‘Yes Man,’ do you?”
“You mean ‘Yes Woman,’”
“Stop trying to change the subject. I don’t mean she’s excited about the concert. I mean, yes, she’s excited about the concert because music is so much a part of her life, but I mean, she’s excited to be going with you.”
I frowned. This past week, since we got back from Atlanta, it felt as if everyone knew something that I didn’t and that they’d all been giving me hints without coming out and telling me.
And what did they know?
That Lana was ‘Love’s Light.’
That she was in love with me and just waiting patiently for me to notice and do something about it.
But what was I supposed to do? If she really was in love with me—and I wasn’t convinced she was—then what? I wasn’t in love with her so it’s not like we...
Or was I?
No, that’s silly.
But I mean ... Just looking back on the week ... The whisky tasting on the plane, the dinner at Millie’s, meeting her parents...
And we’d had lunch together every day this week again. Hell, we’d had lunch together every day since Carly left. I’d leaned on her so much since then. She’d been my crutch. That meant something, didn’t it? You don’t lean on just anybody.
And our conversation over hot chocolate after badminton ... I’d laid out all my fears and doubts and worries ... That’s not something you do with just anyone. You do it with someone special. Someone you trust.
Someone you love.
No ... I trusted her, yes. She was special, yes. She was part of my chosen family. But I wasn’t in love with her.
I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. I was still in love with Carly.
“What are you planning to wear?” Marie asked.
“Huh?” I think she may have been talking some more while my mind was racing.
“What. Are. You. Planning. To. Wear?”
“I ... Just a suit, I guess. I don’t know.”
“Wear the dark grey one. The Italian one. Not the light grey. I really like the light grey and it really suits you, but tomorrow, Lana is the star of the show. Her and her dress—which is spectacular, by the way. You need to be her arm candy—handsome, well-groomed, but able to fade into the background and let her shine. The dark grey suit, a white shirt and a boring tie—maybe that really dark blue one you have. Yes, the dark blue. It’ll complement her dress without looking like you’re trying to match it. And go and get a haircut tomorrow morning. If Ben is the epitome of ‘sharp,’ you’re the antithesis. You don’t need to go too short, just ... get it tidied up.”
I stared at her.
“It’s just dinner.” I nodded. “And the concert after, but it’s just dinner.”
“Oh, Paul ... It’s so much more than just dinner. So much more.”
I did as I was told. I got up early on Saturday morning—well, early for someone who didn’t get to bed until nearly three in the morning—and went into town to get a haircut. I’d been putting off a trip to the barbers ever since Carly left. I knew she liked my ‘shaggy’ look and keeping it, even though it was starting to get on my nerves, was my way of holding on to her. Holding on to the memory of our time together.
But it had been three and a half weeks now, and it was getting ridiculous—with each passing day, I looked more and more like a rock-band reject.
So I did something I’d never done before—I got a ‘classic’ short-back-and-sides. Grade two clippers on the back and the sides, and a scissor cut on top leaving it long enough to style, but short enough to look ‘neat.’
“Mate?” Mark said when I got back to the house and sat on the sofa in the living room.
I looked at him.
“Oh, it is you. I didn’t recognise you for a sec. Did you ask them to do that, or did one of the girls do it while you slept?”
“I think it looks smart,” Immy said. She was sitting on his lap again. “Perfect for his date tonight.”
I bit back my automatic reply.
“It’s not a date,” Mark said, grinning. “It’s just dinner and a concert. It’s not a date.”
Imogen looked at him and smiled. “Oh, right, I forgot. It’s not a date.”
I took a breath and shook my head. “I hate you both.” Then I looked at my watch, then back at my housemates. “I’m starving. Fancy lunch in the pub?”
“Are you sure you’re allowed?” Mark said.
I frowned. “Allowed to go to the pub? Yes.”
“Well, it’s just, I thought you had to wait, like, six hours or something before eating after major surgery.”
I picked up a cushion and threw it at him, but it hit Immy. She caught it as it fell to the ground and threw it back. Then Mark tapped her on the leg. “Come on, pub’s calling.”
She shook her head. “Let me call Nessa and Mickey and tell them to meet us there.” She looked at me. “You should invite Emily, too. You won’t have many more opportunities—she’s landed a job in London for when she graduates.”
The concert was due to start at eight, but we needed to be at Symphony Hall for seven-thirty. Lana had booked the restaurant for six, giving us more than enough time to eat and I was picking her up at half-five.
By five, I was showered, shaved, dressed and ready. I stood in my room, looking at myself in my full-length mirror.
I looked good.
The new haircut went well with the suit. I’d decided not to wear the waistcoat, because I didn’t need to be that formal, but I didn’t look like a student playing ‘dress up,’ I looked like a sophisticated ‘man about town.’ I finally looked like the young entrepreneur that Wintersmith suggested I was.
The haircut really had made a difference. I could easily have passed for a banker or a lawyer.
I took a breath, then straightened my already straight tie.
This is who you are now, Paul.
I smiled as I heard Clarissa’s voice in my head.
A smartly dressed, devilishly handsome young man with the world at his feet. Lana’s very lucky. I envy her.
I blinked. Twelve months ago, hearing Clarissa’s voice would have unnerved me. Mind you, twelve months ago she’d have been saying something very different.
Twelve months. Clarissa’s birthday was almost three weeks ago. Emily and I had made the trip out to Micester to take her some flowers in the afternoon. We’d stayed maybe ten minutes, if that. The previous year, I’d fallen to my knees at her grave, and all the grief I’d kept bottled up and suppressed inside me had come flooding out. But this year ... I stood holding Emily’s hand. We both cried a little. We hugged each other. And we remembered.
Truth was, I’d moved on.
It’s what Clarissa would have wanted.
Now it was time to move on from Carly. She’d always be a part of my life, but it was time to move on. To embrace Love’s Light.
Just like she wanted me to.
There was a gentle knock on my open bedroom door that drew my attention. It was Immy.
“Well, look at you—all smart and dashing and handsome.” She smiled. “I knew you’d scrub up well.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Have you seen the time?” she said. “You’re going to be late.”
I glanced at my watch. “It’s quarter-past.” I had a good ten minutes before I needed to leave.
“Did you wind it last night?”
I shook my head. “No, just got back here and crashed. It was a late night.”
“It’s twenty-five past. You need to go now.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Lana won’t mind if I’m a couple of minutes late.”
She arched an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Maddie, but with slightly less perfectly sculpted brows.
“Okay, Okay. I’m going.”
I went over to my bedside table to grab my wallet, house keys, car keys and phone.
“Good luck,” she said, as I passed her on my way to the stairs.
I stopped. “Why is everyone treating this like it’s a bigger deal than it is?”
This time, she didn’t just arch her eyebrow; she followed it up with her ‘that’s a stupid question’ look.
Because it is a big deal, Paul, Clarissa said in my head. And you know it is. Now get a move on, or you’ll be late.
The clock on the dashboard read five-thirty-three when I parked in a bay outside Campus Heights and turned off the engine. It took me probably another minute, or maybe two, to get the lift up to Lana’s flat on the fourth floor and ring the bell.
I thought back to the very first time I’d rung this bell, just over six months ago now. So much had changed since then.
That day, I’d come to see Lily and waited for what felt like an eternity for someone to answer the door. I’d waited so long that I’d taken my phone out of my pocket to text Lily and tell her I was there in case the bell was broken.
But Lana had opened the door.
And said just one word.
“Yes?”
A word loaded with so much emotion—annoyance and distrust. Dislike and contempt. Even a touch of arrogance. Of course, I knew now that her attitude towards me for those first few weeks and months was a self-defence mechanism. She hadn’t expected me to be standing there. To her, and I suspect to many from her year and below in Micester High, I represented the ultimate expression of the cruel nature of that town.
I’d reminded her of what she was trying to get away from on the very first day she was trying to break free from it.
I remember thinking that, had Clarissa’s voice still been torturing me—or rather, had I still been torturing myself with Clarissa’s voice—she’d have said that Lana was ‘just my type.’
She’d looked so good that day. She was clearly trying to look her best to impress their new flatmates.
And boy, did she look her best.
Her hair had hung, long and blonde, in perfect waves framing her gorgeous face with its high cheekbones, delicate little nose and those big, bright, luminous blue eyes.
I think it’s fair to say, I’d been attracted to her from the moment I set eyes on her. Physically, at least. Her attitude stank. Well, her attitude towards me stank. She began to thaw and warm to me after we started to play badminton together, but I think the first real moment of connection we’d had was when she’d walked home from badminton with her flatmate Josh without telling me because her knee was hurting. I think she’d appreciated how worried I’d been—first about her walking home, possibly alone with a nutter on the loose, and then about her knee.
And from there, we’d gradually earned each other’s trust. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment that we became each other’s confidant—maybe it was at the trust launch when she told me about Ryan. Maybe it was before that, with some of the many, many things I’d told her about what was going on in my life.
But there was no denying that in the three short weeks since Carly had flown back to America, we’d been getting closer and closer.
And now we were going on a date.
Well, we were going to dinner and a concert, which everyone else was calling a date.
I wasn’t made to wait anywhere near as long this time when I rang the doorbell. In fact, it opened almost straight away.
“You’re late,” Lily said, looking serious. Then she smiled. “Good job, really, because she’s still putting on the finishing touches. Go into the kitchen and wait for her there.”
I nodded and then walked past Lily to the kitchen at the end of the narrow corridor, then did a double-take when I entered the room.
“Marie? What are you doing here?”
“Did you think I was going to miss this? I want to see the look on your face.” She smiled. “And, actually, now that I’ve seen you, I want to see the look on her face, too. That haircut really suits you.”
“I preferred it the other way,” Lily said as she went to stand next to Marie. “Although this cut goes better with the suit. And that suit is ... Mwah!” She did the ‘chef’s kiss’ gesture then grinned.
I stared at them both and shook my head. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”
They both giggled.
“Paul?” Lana’s voice came from the doorway. I turned to look at her and...
“Wow!” I blinked, as if trying to shield my eyes from the sun. “I mean ... I ... Lana, you’re ... Wow!”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lily hold her hand out and Marie place what looked like a five-pound note in it. I glanced at them.
“Just a little bet between friends,” Lily said.
“She said you’d be lost for words,” Marie said. “I thought you’d come out with some incredible compliment. You let me down, Paul.”
I rolled my eyes and focused on Lana again.
“Being lost for words is a compliment. The best kind.”
Lana blushed, smiled, then looked down at the floor. Then she looked up at me again.
“So ... You like it? It’s a Stella McCartney.”
“It’s incredible. But it’s not just the dress. It’s you.”
She blushed again.
How to describe the dress? Nothing I say will do it justice.
It was blue. A vivid blue. Darker than royal blue but not as dark as navy, it matched the shade her eyes turned when she was particularly happy—or should I say when Love’s Light was shining from them?
Sleeveless, but not strappy, about knee-length, sleek and elegant. It hugged her body in a relaxed way that accentuated her figure rather than clinging to it. The top had a V-neck formed by one part of the dress crossing over the other, with the point just above the swell of her chest. About an inch above that point sat the delicate star and diamond pendant of the necklace I’d bought her in Atlanta.
The built-in belt drew the fabric in at the waist, before it flared out over her hips and then fell straight in that classic A-line style.
It was stunning.
But like I’d said to her, it wasn’t just the dress. It was her.
She usually wore her long golden hair in a pony-tail to keep it off her face, or sleek and straight down her back—the kind of perfect straightness that comes from those ceramic irons all the girls had. But now it fell in waves over her left shoulder and down her back. And her makeup was subtle. Delicate. Designed to enhance her natural beauty rather than be showy.
“You look amazing,” I said. “I mean it. You look incredible. It’ll be my honour to take you out tonight.”
She blushed again. “Tha ... Thank you.” She smiled. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I love that suit on you. And I really like your hair. It makes you look like a grown-up.”
I shrugged. “Probably about time.”
Then I walked over to her, stood in front of her and took her hands in mine.
“May I?” I said.
“May you what?”
I smiled. Then leaned forward to kiss her softly on the cheek.
“That.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.