As if reading my mind, Pen places a hand over my heart.
“Don’t panic. I’m not expecting a marriage proposal or a sperm donation.”
She grins at my expression.
“When I left the US, I knew I was saying goodbye to that part of my future. I’m just happy enjoying what we have now.”
A heaviness settles in my body.
She wanted those things with Kristophe, but not with me? I close my eyes as my stomach clenches hard. When I open them again, Pen is staring at me, her sparkle waning.
“Come on, let’s get some food,” she says before I can open my mouth.
“Good plan. I asked the chef to make your favourite.”
This time, when she smiles, she’s back to old Pen, and I wonder whether I imagined it.
“My favourite?”
“The perfect tuna melt.”
Pen takes a bite,her eyes closing as she lets out a low moan.
“O.M.G.,” she says. “This is…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence as she takes another bite.
The chef has produced a culinary delight. Or at least in Pen’s eyes.
I take a bite of my own. The melted cheese enhances the flavour of the tuna and toasted panini. I have to admit it is delicious.
“I can’t believe you’re finally eating a tuna melt,” Pen says, grinning.
“Fine, I’ll admit it is delicious, although not something I would usually eat.”
Although I am not as strict with my diet as I was when Pen originally knew me. Then, it was all measured out and calculated. I even knew the exact carb and fat count on the takeaways we ordered.
It’s my turn to laugh when the chef brings in a selection of grilled fish and vegetables.
“I wasn’t going to force you to eat my favourite,” Pen says, leaning over and gripping my hand. “But I really appreciate the sentiment.”
Pen snags my panini from my plate while I load up on the fish and vegetables.
“Lottie messaged me,” Pen says eventually as we’re finishing up the pavlova the chef prepared.
“Did she?”
Somehow it doesn’t surprise me. My daughter loves Pen, always has done from being a little girl. It always surprised methat Darra was so free to let Pen near our daughter when she’d always envied her.
“She did. She told me she was sorry my engagement ended, and she hoped she could stay with me when she gets back for a girls’ weekend.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“What? She’s nearly fifteen. Is it surprising?” Pen says. “Iama super cool godmother.”
“That you are,” I admit truthfully. “Thank you for always being there for her.”
Pen’s hand snakes across the table and squeezes mine.
