She is shocked by that one. “Yes.” She smiles after a beat.
“Thirdly, was that weird for me to just talk about my ex like that? It’s heavy and tragic and sad, but also he’s still my ex. It’s still someone I had feelings for... have feelings for. Like, I still love and miss the shit out of him. Is that weird for you?”
Jenna starts talking while looking at her drink, but eventually her eyes pull up to find mine. “It’s not weird. Love is not as prescriptive or as predictable as we like to think it is. We like to put rules on love, like we do most things, and we approach it with a binary mindset, but love will never bend to fit in binaries or boxes. Love doesn’t care. Love will just grow wherever it finds the right conditions. Your love for Arnie doesn’t stop your capacity to feel physically attracted to someone else, even if he were alive that would still be true. Missing him and grieving him doesn’t mean you can’t also take pleasure in being with someone else when you’re ready to... physically, I mean.” I sense she is being extra cautious with her words.
“So you still fancy me? Even though I still have feelings for a dead man?” I am a lot less careful with my words.
“Is that your fourth question?”
“No, it wasn’t. Shit!”
“You can have another one.” She grins and bumps her body against my arm.
“You need to answer that question first,” I raise my eyebrows at her.
Her teeth sink into her plump lower lip, the lucky buggers.
“Yes, I still fancy you. And to clarify, I don’t find it weird at all that you still have feelings for Arnie. Honestly, I would find it weird if youdidn’tstill have feelings for him.”
I stare at her as I process what she’s just said. I realise in that moment that I’ve been resisting what I still feel for Arnie for so long since he died, because it hurt. Loving him hurt me, because it reminded me of his absence, of his death. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but I recognise now that somewhere along the way, I’ve been trying to stop loving him so that I could stop some of the pain. But what if it didn’t have to be like this? How much energy and effort would I get back if I stopped trying to switch off that love? What if I could find peace in still loving him?
I must have been thinking on this for longer than I realise because she nudges me again, her arm warm against mine. “Your final question, Irishman?”
Blinking, I glide my eyes over her face, once, twice, as if I’m trying to count every one of her freckles. A question does indeed climb to the tip of my tongue. It isn’t the one I was going to ask, but it’s the only one I want an answer for now.
“Can I kiss you?”
If she's surprised by that one it melts away in a heartbeat, as does the distance between us when she tells meYesin the sweetest whisper. I lean in too and time starts to slow down, the background noise fading away, and I close my eyes...
“Oh, he showed up!” A man’s voice calls out and Jenna pulls back.
Fuck.
We both turn our heads towards the culprit, and I see an attractive young man with big brown eyes carrying an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne in it.
“Hi, Lionel,” Jenna says pulling back further from me.
“Sorry, did I interrupt?” he asks. “I did, didn’t I? Fluffballs. Jake wanted me to send this over to you. He wanted to come himself, but we have a rather annoy- no, err... challenging guest at the front desk and...”
I try to contain my smile. Who is this adorable human?
“It’s fine, Lionel,” Jenna says, and I love the pink that is now in her cheeks. “It’s really sweet of you.”
“Super sweet, thanks a million,” I say, and then I stand up and introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Marty.”
“Oh, wow, you really are Irish,” Lionel says as he shuffles the ice bucket to one side and grips my hand.
“Afraid so,” I say. “It would be a pain in the arse to keep up the accent all day long otherwise.”
His smile is wide and genuine, his laughter light and airy and I don’t think I could hate him for interrupting our kiss if I tried. And for a moment there I was really trying.
“So, shall I just put this down here?” Lionel moves towards our table.
“Actually, we’re grateful, but we aren’t drinking tonight,” Jenna says but immediately I interject.
“No, you should have some, if you want,” I say to her.
“That’s it, I don’t want. I’m happy with our Cuddles on the Beach.” I somehow know her well enough to know she’s being honest. “Did you open it already?” she asks Lionel.
