He laughed, shaking his head. “If you must know, Tad bought it for me. For my birthday. At least, that’s what he says. Between you and me, though, I think his wife bought it for him, and rather than admit he hated it, he ‘misplaced’ it. Anyway,” he added with a smile, “it’s freezing. Why don’t we go somewhere, grab a drink, and something to eat?”
She sensed he was trying to end the conversation and hesitated. The thought of being alone with him again, in a more intimate setting, sent waves of anxiety through her. But she agreed, not because she was sure she wanted to or even because she thought it was a good idea, but because the way he said it made it impossible to refuse.
Seated across from him, Daisy couldn’t help but stare. While his hair had begun to pepper, unlike hers, his eyes seemed more alive than ever.
They talked about life, and it surprised her how easy it felt to be honest with him about everything.
“You know what I’ve come to realise,” she said, reaching for a menu. “People offer to help to make themselves feel better, but not you. I mean, I don’t blame them. It’s superstition, right? If you give a bit of good karma, maybe life will give you a break in return.” She paused, glancing up at his bemused expression. “Sorry, I’m not complaining—”
“Complain all you like. I’m all yours.”
She knew he meant it. She’d been talking for over five minutes, and his gaze hadn’t drifted in the slightest.
“I hate it, you know,” she continued. “People look at me and think: that poor girl, her husband is borderline brain dead. She’s a solo mum. They don’t see me; nobody sees me anymore. All they see is my situation.”
He watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as though trying to push away a painful truth, but before he could dig deeper, she shifted the conversation onto him.
“Enough about me. Tell me about what you’ve been doing since we last talked.”
He leaned back, thinking for a moment. “I travelled. Eastern Europe, mostly. Then I made my way to Italy.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“To be fair, you inspired me,” he said. “To visit Sicily.”
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it,” he said, laughing. “Minus the hills.”
The mention of Sicily pulled her inward. When she’d gone to Italy, it had been to escape Idris. She’d wanted a reason not to run into him or his friends on the street, but because she hadn’t dealt with the baggage, she’d ended up loading it on the plane with her.
“I wish I could do my twenties again,” she admitted. “Sicily—all of it.”
“You never know. One day, you might go back.”
She pulled a face. “We both know that’s unlikely. I can barely get Callan out of the house, let alone on a plane.” She mirrored him, reaching for a food menu, and when she looked up, she saw in his eyes what he meant. She swallowed, placing the menu back down. “Can we talk about something else?”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know. Just not…not about him.”
He thought for a moment. “Okay, I have a question for you,” he said at last, settling back in his chair. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
Daisy blinked, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. “Reincarnation?”
“Yeah, you know, when you die and come back as an animal. That kind of thing.”
“I don’t know what I believe.”
“Well, if, say, you did. What would you come back as? I’d come back as a finch.”
“A finch?”
“See, here’s the thing about finches.” He leaned in, resting his forearms on the table. “They go unnoticed. Imagine sitting on someone’s fence and people-watching all day. It would be fascinating stuff.”
“So even if you were given a second shot at life, you’d still want to figure people out? Isn’t one lifetime enough?”
He laughed then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Daisy. When it comes to the mind and all its inner workings and meanings, one lifetime would never be enough.”
