‘Itdoeschange the way I think about the gift.’
He blinks down at her, his expression pained, and she suddenly wants to reach up and smooth out the lines on his forehead. She swallows hard and manages to keep her hands where they are, one on Alfie’s chest, the other at her side.
‘It makes total sense now, actually. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. Of course there’s no way Joe would have thought to recommend Emily Henry. Or Elizabeth Gilbert. The year of books could only have existed because Joe knewmeandyouknew books. None of all this would have happened without both of you. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. Because if I had, I would have known to thank you.’
‘You don’t have to thank me.’ His voice catches.
‘But I want to.’ She tilts her head up to his, feeling the heat of his eyes on her.
As she looks at him, she sees everything he has done for herover the past year. The conversations where he has listened to her open up about her grief, and has shared his own pain with her like an offering. A cat-themed window display. A tent in the park. Dry socks at the airport. A backpack full of food. And now this.
She reaches across the space between them for his hand.
‘Thank you, Alfie.’
His fingers slip through hers and squeeze. His lips part slightly and she leans closer, her chin tilting up, eyes on his.
‘Are you ready for me to show you both out?’ comes a voice in the doorway.
Tilly jumps backwards, almost knocking over a chair. Alfie steps back too, clearing his throat. An assistant is waiting, looking at them a little strangely.
‘Yes, we’re ready,’ Alfie says, taking another step, putting even more space between them, never meeting Tilly’s eye.
When Tilly arrives home, there are dozens of messages waiting for her, congratulating her on the interview – from her parents, from Harper and Raj, Rachel – and dozens on social media in response to a story she posted of herself outside the BBC studio.
But all Tilly can think about is Alfie and that moment in the green room. What would have happened if the assistant hadn’t walked in? What did Tilly want to happen? She has no idea. Or perhaps, even more terrifyingly, she does.
It hits her who might be able to help her sort through the complex tangle of her emotions.
Tilly sends a group message to Lola and John from the Paris Grief Gang.
Tilly:
Random question, but have either of you dated since losing your partners? Because I think I sort of nearly kissed someone today. And now I’m a mess.
52
Her phone begins immediately to vibrate.
When she answers, it’s to the welcome sight of Lola’s face, beaming at her from a Parisian street, the sound of traffic in the background.
‘Tilly! Tell useverything.’
A second later, John connects, dressed in tweed and looking slightly startled against a backdrop of ornate bookshelves that Tilly recognizes as his library with its view over the Eiffel Tower.
‘How wonderful to see you both, my dears,’ he says, reaching for a floral teacup and raising it in greeting.
‘Hi, John. Now, Tilly, tell us about this kiss.’
‘Almostkiss,’ Tilly corrects, feeling her cheeks grow hot.
‘He sounds like a great guy,’ says Lola, stepping out of the way of a group of tourists gathered on what Tilly thinks she recognizes as the Pont Neuf. ‘I mean, he brought you dry socks after your camping trip.’
‘Heisa great guy.’
‘And handsome too,’ John chips in, making Lola laugh. ‘What?’ he says with a shrug. ‘I watched your interview together. He’s a very good-looking young man. And he clearly knows his books too, which is always a plus.’
‘Maybe,’ replies Tilly, emotion trapped in her throat. ‘But … he’s not Joe.’
