I smile after her, but it fades when I catch sight of the clothesline. A red ghost sways, caught in the breeze.
9
After the Bitter End
Lily-Anne
By seven o’clock, my dress is nearly dry. The skirt is still damper than I’d like, but it’s either this or jeans, and I want to make an effort for dinner.
I smooth the fabric where it’s wrinkled and glance in my bedroom mirror.
This isn’t a date. I know that. Brandon’s just being polite and playing host, making sure his lodger upstairs doesn’t starve.
Still, I’m oddly nervous at the prospect of going out. It’s been a while.
I used to have lots of friends in high school—the kind who’d drag me out for late-night pancakes or turn study breaks into karaoke marathons. Then came university and Toby, and I lost touch, my own circle slowly replaced by his. When things ended recently, so did those friendships.
It left me adrift.
I reconnected with Ellenor and Mum easily enough, but I was horrified to realise how much I’d pushed them away—how they’d waited quietly in the wings of my relationship with Toby, hoping I’d snap out of it, that the old Lily would come back.
Rekindling old friendships was harder. Everyone had moved on. My best friend from high school had a baby, and I didn’t even know. The guilt of it still stings. I was the one who disappeared.
Now here I am, going out for dinner with a man I barely know. A man who used to manage actual musicians. It’s not a date. Brandon’s just being a polite host. I’ve tried to tone down my shocking red dress with white sneakers and a denim jacket.
I take a breath, square my shoulders, and tell myself to stop overthinking.
“This is fine,” I promise myself.
I find Brandon in the hall downstairs, the light catching in his combed,side-swept hair, shadows deepening the thoughtful lines of his face.
He looks nice. Black jeans that draw out the long lines of his legs and a navy shirt.
The boat shoes make me smile. They suit him, but Ellenor would have teased and asked where his yacht is.
When Brandon sees me, he freezes, eyes catching on my dress like he wasn’t prepared for it. He takes me in slowly, almost dazed, and heat shimmers across my skin in answer.
I pull my jacket closer, and the small movement seems to snap him out of his trance. He drags his gaze back up, clearing his throat.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
I nod and follow him outside.
As we pass the pink cottage next door, the smoky smell of a barbecue drifts past, making my mouth water.
Suddenly, Brandon takes my elbow and angles me around a pool of lamplight.
“Stay out of the light,” he murmurs.
“What? Why?” I ask. His touch is fleeting, but it fires a faint charge beneath my skin.
“Best if Rupert and Barbara don’t see us. They’ll invite us to dinner.”
“Oh.” I glance at the lace-framed windows, silhouettes shifting beyond them. It could be my imagination, but I think I see the curtains sway. “And that’s…bad?”
“Notbad, per se,” he says carefully. “But they’re a little on the intense side of…intense.”
“I’m sure I can handle it,” I say, half-challenging.
