“Tabs,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You’re amazing. You’re the last thing from pointless, you’re…pointful.”
Tabby giggled.
Toby couldn’t believe he’d voluntarily touched her, but there was still enough alcohol clanging around his system to keep him holding her hand. “What’s got you thinking like this? Has something changed?”
“No. That’s kind of the reason I’m down.”
“You want to change?”
“Yes. No. Maybe? I dunno. I’m not as young as I used to be, but I don’t seem to get any more organised or responsible.”
“You’re twenty-five.”
“So? Time’s an illusion.”
It was a typical Tabby-ism, philosophically valid without being meaningfully accurate. The kind of thing you could argue about forever and never come to any conclusions. As far as Toby could tell, this was always Tabby’s plan whenever someone told her something she didn’t want to hear—derail them from their point with metaphysical cul-de-sacs, avoiding vulnerability at all costs.
“In some ways,” he said. “But in many, much realer ways, time isn’t an illusion and you’re young and you’ve got ages to get organised about life.”
Tabby rolled her eyes. “You’re just being nice. That was why my dad left, to give us girls a chance to grow up, and now it’s been like, two years and Sam and Nix are saving money and having relationships and trying to make babies, and I just keep twatting around, waiting to become more than I am.”
“Why do you need to be more than you are? You’re already perfect.”
Tabby squeezed his hand. “Toby Tennant, why I never…”
Holy shit, that was the most romantic thing he’d ever said to anyone, and he’d just said it to Tabby. “Sorry. I don’t… ignore that.”
“No.” Tabby pulled their joined hands to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Thanks for being such a sweetheart.”
Toby caught fire—his neck, face, chest,everythingwent blazing hot. He met Tabby’s blue gaze and wanted to hold it but couldn’t. Scared she could feel his temperature rise, he eased his hand from hers. “What about your music festival? Aren’t you working on that?”
She perked right up. “Yeah, Conor and I have a few bands lined up now. Plus, we’ve come up with a name. ‘Sparkling Whine.’ Isn’t that funny?”
Toby smiled obligingly, but really, he was thinking about how Tabby and Conor had hooked up a while back and how, despite Conor’s new girlfriend, they continued to hang out and plan Prosecco-based music festivals together.
“Conor thinks I should go back to uni and get an event management degree,” Tabby said. “But fuck that. How hard is it to call up a venue and book it ten months in advance? Besides, I don’t want to be a full-time festival guy. Too much ‘hurry up and wait’ crap.”
“So why not just keep tattooing? You’re great at it, and what you’re working on changes every day.”
“The pictures,” Tabby protested. “Not the actual work. Maybe I’m just not meant to have a career. Maybe I should give up on having a job and lean into being some rich guy’s fuckdoll. I think I’d be good at that.”
Toby almost swallowed his dehydrated tongue. “Huh?”
“Being a sugar baby,” Tabby said, rolling onto her back. “You know, sucking dudes off for handbags and what have you?”
“I…”
“I mean, it’s not, like,justsucking guys off for handbags. Maybe I’ll go monogamous and do the old-school wife thing. You know, bake bread, massage shoulders, come to fancy work events and swan around making the man look good. Guys like that, right?”
Toby couldn’t talk, but that didn’t seem to matter.
“The problem is, where do you meet a rich dude who wants a nice,respectable fuckdoll? All the guys I know don’t have two cents to rub together. I don’t either, but right now, I’m sucking them off for zero handbags, and you’ve gotta think there are better options out there… Especially when I’m bringing big titties and home-cooked meals to the table.” She glanced over at him. “You okay, Tobes? Is your alcohol-soaked vision narrowing into a single, blurry point of light?”
“N-no,” Toby sputtered, his head crammed with contradictory thoughts. “I’m fine. I… You can cook?”
“Really well. I’m good at cleaning too. Nix just never lets me‘’cause she’s all OCD about that shit being done her way. Yeah, I should just bail on civilised society and give myself to some dude. Who cares, y’know?”
Toby squinted at her. She was obviously trying to be funny, but he didn’t get the sense she was lying. “You’d be okay letting a guy pay for everything?”
