As he went to the counter to order their drinks, he wondered whether she still took two in her tea. And he wondered what she’d done in the intervening years while he’d been away. Got married, had two kids, got divorced… What else?Was she happy?
‘I got you extra marshmallows,’ he told her, placing the drinks on the table.
‘Thanks.’ She picked up a spoon and ladled some into her mouth, along with a generous dollop of cream, and he tried not to stare.
How many times had he kissed those lips?
She noticed the direction of his gaze and he hastily examined his own mug. ‘So,’ he began. ‘How have you been?’
‘Fine. Good. Great, actually.’
‘Good, good.’ He used his spoon to poke one of the marshmallows. It disappeared into the cream. He did the same to another, silence stretching between them.
Beatrice broke it. ‘How about you?’
Mark opened his mouth to say ‘good’, then changed his mind. ‘I’ve been better.’
‘Are you ill?’ A flicker of concern crossed her face, and he wondered what it meant.
‘God, no, nothing like that,’ he said. ‘The only thing I’m suffering from is writer’s block.’ As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He had told no one, not even his agent or his editor.Especiallynot his editor.
‘Writer’s block? Is that where you can’t think of anything to write?’
‘Exactly.’
‘I thought that was why you’re here – to write one? Dulcie told me you’re doing research.’
‘I am. Kind of. I’m searching for inspiration.’
‘Have you found any?’
‘Not yet. I’m sure I will.’ He took a sip of his drink, hoping he didn’t have a cream moustache.
Beatrice said, ‘You’ve got…’ She touched her upper lip.
Dabbing his mouth with a serviette, he said, ‘Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about you.’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘You’ve got children,’ he pointed out.
‘So I have.’
‘You don’t live with their father?’
‘Thanks, Sadie,’ she mumbled, then louder, ‘We’re divorced. How about you? Are you married?’
‘Not anymore.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
‘Me, too.’
‘What happened?’ Her eyes widened then she said, ‘Forgive me, it’s none of my business.’
‘I don’t mind talking about it. She didn’t want kids. I did. I think the last straw was when I gave up the day job to become a full-time author.’ It was more complicated than that, but the details weren’t particularly pleasant.
Beatrice pursed her lips. ‘That’s tough.’
