He throws his head back and laughs and it’s contagious. We eventually fall silent, but continue to smile at each other. He’s so gorgeous, it hurts my heart.
‘No, it’s not that bad. Most of the time,’ I add soberly. ‘It’s good for me to be on hand. My parents did so much – I’m a bit out of my depth.’
‘How long are you planning to stay?’
‘Until the second week of September. That’s when I’ve rented my parents’ house out until.’
His dimples fade as he nods.
It’s no longer my parents’ house, it’s mine. They left it to me in their will, along with a letter asking me to do my best for Michael. They didn’t specify exactly what doing my best constitutes – I’m still trying to figure that part out. We had talked about what would happen if they died – I knew that they’d set up a trust fund so Michael and I wouldn’t need to worry about money – but none of us ever thought we’d be in this position so soon, or that we’d lose them both at once. They were only sixty-four.
I experience a flashback to the funeral. Finn sat two rows behind me with Rach, Amy and Dan. I remember seeing him chatting to my uncle at the wake and the thought of it now feels surreal.
I’m not sure I ever properly thanked him for everything he did.
I add it to the guilt I already feel around Finn.
‘How long are you here for?’ I ask.
‘Just over two weeks.’
‘That’s not very long,’ I say dispiritedly.
‘It was the most I could get off between gigs.’
‘How are things going with the band?’
‘Good. Our lead guitarist is still a dick, but we’re beginning to get some traction. We’re doing a couple of festivals later this summer.’
‘That’s cool.’
‘Yeah, we’ve got a good live agent. We’re way down thebill – you need a magnifying glass to make out the band’s name – but it’s a start.’
I smile at him, some of my sadness evaporating. ‘It’s agreatstart. Did you know Mixamatosis is back at Seaglass this summer?’
He nods. ‘With Kieran, right?’
‘Yep, he’s singing. They’ve already been there a month.’
‘And you still work behind the bar?’
I nod and pick up my mug.
To say that my life hasn’t turned out quite how I’d imagined it is an understatement.
I take a sip, staring across the rim at the tall grass.
‘You’re right, that lawn really does need doing before it’s beyond saving.’
‘Where’s your lawnmower? I could do it for you now if you like?’
‘You’re so sweet, Finn.’ I give him a tender look, not really needing a reminder of how lovely he is, how surprising. ‘But Michael lent it to someone and claims he doesn’t remember who.’
Maybe he gave it away because Dad used to come over and mow the lawn every week in the summer and if Dad wasn’t going to be doing it any more, then he didn’t want anyone else to be doing it either.
‘How about I bring my grandparents’ lawnmower over sometime? They’ve got a battery-operated one so it would be super easy.’
‘Really? That would be so helpful, thank you.’
