I open my mouth, then close it again, feeling a bit sheepish. I don’t know why I assumed that, but he does have a point. “You’re right. Sorry.”
He releases a long breath. “My ex has been trying to get full custody of Henry, if you must know. It’s been a stressful few months.”
I feel a rush of compassion. After reading about him and his son, about how cut-up he was in his divorce, I can understand why he’s struggled with that so much. No wonder he’s been feeling so resentful and angry towards women. I guess being in court explains why I kept seeing him in suits.
“Anyway. It’s all over now and she didn’t win, which is a relief. But it was a nasty ordeal, especially for Henry.” He runs a hand over his beard, his eyes distant, then he fastens his gaze back on me. “The other day when Stevie escaped, I felt really bad. Afterward, I thought a lot about what you said. You’re right; I’ve been an asshole. You caught me at a bad time, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, letting my eyes roam over his handsome face. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for being mad about the coffee. And that’s awful about your ex. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” We sit in silence for a while as I try to find the courage to say what I really want to say. Eventually, I take a deep breath. “I, er, might owe you an apology too.” I reach down into my bag and pull out my copy of his book, placing it on the table between us.
His eyebrows shoot up, then his face breaks into a smile, then—I can’t quite believe it—helaughs. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile, let alone laugh, and my lips part in surprise. The deep chuckle that rumbles from his chest is so delightful it’s as if sunlight has burst in through the window, lighting up his face and warming me through until my whole body is humming.
Whoa.
I pull my gaze down to the book in my hands, remembering the awful things I said. “I’m so sorry. All that stuff I said—”
“It’s okay.” He holds his hands up, giving me a wry smile. “I know it’s not my best work. I’ve made my peace with it.”
I shake my head. “I loved it, I really did. When I said all that stuff, well, I hadn’t actuallyreadit.”
He chuckles again. “Yeah I kind of figured, based on your comments regarding—what was it?—the topography and mountain ranges.”
My cheeks warm. “Yes, well. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He takes a sip of coffee, not lifting his gaze from me. “So you’re from New Zealand, right?”
I nod.
“And Henry said something about breaking up with your boyfriend?”
I grimace, recalling how I spilled my guts to Henry in the hallway when I was trying to cheer him up. But how was I to know Michael was his dad? “Er… yeah. Just before I came over here.”
“Is that why you moved?”
“Yes.” I run my finger around the rim of my coffee cup, thinking, and realize there was more to it than that. “And no.”
Michael tilts his head, eying me curiously. For some reason I feel the urge to go on.
“Have you ever just stopped to look around at your life and realized nothing is how you want it?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation, and for some reason this surprises me. “So what was wrong? What did you have that you didn’t want?”
I think again, recalling that moment I sat in my old flat with my parents, taking stock of my life and feeling empty. “Nothing. I didn’t really haveanything.That was the problem. I just…” I pause, wondering how much to share. Strangely, I find that I want to share more, that I feel comfortable talking to him. Maybe it’s because I read his book—because I read about some of his personal experiences. And even though it was only through a book, I feel a sort of connection to him now—like I know him, in a way. It makes me feel like I can talk to him.
I let out a long sigh. “I guess I just realized that I’m thirty—that I’ve gone through my whole twenties without taking my dreams seriously. It’s like I have nothing to show for my twenties. And now… I don’t know. I sort of feel like it’s now or never.”
He gives a slow, thoughtful nod. “I get that. I was about thirty when I finally started going after what I want, too.”
I rub my forehead. “I always thought that by thirty I would have my shit together a bit more, you know? I should have figured this out by now.”
“Says who? I’m in my forties and I still don’t feel like I have my shit together.” He gives me a kind smile. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
I gesture to his book. “Well, you’re a lot more successful than me.”
“Sure, my career is going well.” He shrugs. “But that’s not everything. It’s only one area of my life.”
I think back to the jaded man I saw on Halloween after a date, and feel a wave of sympathy. I know what he said at the time wasn’t very nice, but after reading his book I have a much greater understanding of why he felt that way.
His mouth lifts into a small smile, and for a second I think maybe he knows what I’m thinking about.
