I giggle at him. He flinches and a second later he drags his hand over his face, leaving it buried in his palm. I’m worried that he’s going to start crying again, but he doesn’t. I can just hear his jagged breathing.
‘Another thing I’m curious about …’ I’m trying to stop him from retreating into his own pain again. ‘Why is it called moonlight when it’s actually sunlight that’s reflected back at us? Is there any such thing as moonlight?’
I’m staring up at the sky, but out of the corner of my eye, I see him turn his face towards me again.
‘I missed you,’ he whispers, and his voice sounds so plaintive, so full of longing.
And maybe I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from sliding my arms around his neck. His hands come around my back and he pulls me towards him, but I wish we were closer. I give him a small squeeze and let him go before I do something stupid.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ I ask. ‘She said she knew who I was when she saw me at the party.’
I hear his heavy swallow. ‘Yeah, I used to talk about you a lot.’ He releases a long breath. ‘After Hugo had his accident, I was so fucked up, but I still believed I’d be able to get in touch with you somehow. I don’t think it really hit me until after the funeral that I had no way of finding you. I didn’t have Stella’s book, we hadn’t exchanged surnames or addresses. How did we not do that?’
‘I’ve asked myself the same question.So many times,’ I reply disconsolately. ‘I think that sort of detail felt like small talk, inconsequential. We were in so much deeper than that.’
He leans his weight into me a little harder, bringing me closer. I rest my knees against his. My heart is jumpy and light.
‘Are you warm enough?’ he asks gently.
‘I’m okay. Still cooling down after the walk.’
‘You walked up here?’ he asks with surprise.
‘Yeah. Why? How did you think I got here?’
‘I hadn’t actually thought about it, but I would have assumed you’d brought a car.’
‘No. Walked.’
‘You just set off, in the dark, and hiked all the way into the woods to a house you’ve only been to once before?’ I can tell that he’s smiling.
‘Yes. Why are you smiling?’
‘I just like that about you. I like your adventurous spirit.’
‘You think I have an adventurous spirit?’
‘You slept on a beach with me.’
‘Well, we didn’t do much sleeping,’ I quip.
He lets out a laugh, but the sound cuts off abruptly, asthough his thoughts have turned to Beca. He must feel like he’s being disloyal, thinking about us at our most intimate moments.
‘So Beca knew about me,’ I prompt, putting space between us by wrapping my arms around my knees.
‘Yeah. She saw me at my worst after I realised I’d lost you. I was obsessed with finding you. I was like that for years. We only got together at Christmas, so she couldn’t believe it when you turned up here.’
‘You only got together at Christmas?’ I ask with surprise, my mind half caught on‘obsessed with finding you’.
‘Christmas Eve.’
‘And before that?’
‘We were friends. She broke up with her boyfriend just before Christmas and she was seriously pissed off at him. We got hammered on tequila and … I don’t know how it happened, actually, but … Yeah.’
I don’t want to know the details and yet I’m morbidly curious to find out how their relationship veered into romantic territory.
‘I remember you telling me that you thought she might have feelings for you.’
