‘Have you sculpted anything lately?’ he asks softly.
I shake my head, swallowing. ‘I don’t have the heart. I know it will help at some point, but I’m still too raw. I think I need to sit with the pain for a while, let it work its way out of me. Or learn how to let it become a part of me, learn to live with it.’
‘Will you sculpt them, do you think?’
I hesitate before nodding. ‘One day.’
Later that afternoon, I’m sitting on the floor of Michael’s living room with my back against the wall, laughing at a story Amy is telling us.
Today has turned out nothing like I’d imagined it. Instead of being seated alone with Michael at a table, reminiscing about Mum and Dad and trying to hold it together, we’re surrounded by our friends.
When Rach and Amy heard that Michael had invited Shirley and Timothy for lunch, they asked if they could come too and insisted on bringing fish and chips from the shop in the village.
Finn is also here, and because there’s not enough room for everyone at the table, we’ve pushed back the sofas and are all crammed together on the floor around the coffee table, even Shirley.
‘Get off!’ Michael snaps, batting away Rach, who has just nicked a chip from his plate.
‘Sorry, that one looked particularly crunchy,’ she replies cheekily.
Michael cranes his neck to look at her plate. ‘I’ll take … that one!’ he declares, picking up a fat chip.
‘Oi, that was much bigger than the one I stole,’ she complains.
My heart expands as I watch them. I’ve always loved the way my friends interact with Michael. They adore each other. The hugs Michael gave both Amy and Rach when they arrived were full of warmth.
‘Shall I bring some more chips through from the kitchen?’ Finn asks, knowing that we’re nowhere close to consuming our quota.
‘No need,’ Michael answers before anyone else can, stealing another chip from Rach.
I can’t believe I’m actually having a good time.
This morning helped colossally. I needed to be able to grieve and now I feel an overwhelming relief because the day is almost over.
I catch Finn’s eye and smile.
Finn is the last to leave. Michael has already gone upstairs to bed, utterly exhausted. Amy and Rach left only a short while ago, with Shirley offering to drop Timothy home to Perranporth, where he has a place in assisted living accommodation.
I’m curled up on the sofa, my head on Finn’s lap. He’s running his hand through my hair.
‘I guess I should probably go,’ he says with regret.
He flies home to LA tomorrow.
I lift my head to look at him. ‘Stay,’ I request quietly.
He looks down at me, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, and desire pulses through my lower body.
I sit up and face him.
‘Stay,’ I whisper again, with meaning.
‘I want to,’ he confesses, and I know from the look in his eyes that neither of us is thinking about sleep. ‘But if I do, it’s going to make it even harder for me to go.’
‘I don’t have the willpower to care.’
He examines my face for a long moment before caressing my jaw.
‘Are you sure?’
