They weren’t far from her office, and there was a question Daisy had that was burning a hole in her head. “You called it The Worst Day,” she said. “What else happened?” She looked across at him, and even in the dusky sky she could see the color rise in his face. “You don’t have to say,” she added.
He looked down at his feet. “It’s okay. I sort of fucked up at work and lost a massive client and then, on my way home, I tripped over adead pigeonand smashed my face on the pavement and got a giant nosebleed all over myself. I went to the flat to wash it and saw non-stepmum leaving—she didn’t see me—then Sophie just broke up with me without looking up to see my bleeding nose.”
Daisy raised her hands to her face. “That’s awful.”
“That isn’t even the worst of it.”
“It has to be,” Daisy said.
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Amongst the turmoil of the dumping I forgot to cancel the main part of my proposal, so after Sophie left and I sat on our bed trying to stop my nosebleed, this four-piece string quartet just started playing love songs from beneath our balcony.”
“No!” Daisy gasped, her eyes widening.
“Afraid so.”
“I think that’s one of the worst stories I’ve ever heard.” Her eyes danced at the horror of it and he did a half bow, moving one arm behind his back as he bent down.
“You’re welcome.”
“And wait, why was non-stepmum there?”
“Exactly.”
“You’ve never asked her?”
He looked across at her, a sad smile on his face. “No,” he said. “She’s always kept that friendship really separate. I mentioned Sophie’s name once and she shut me down, so I never asked again.” He slowed as they reached Goodge Street. “We made it,” he said.
“Thank you,” Daisy said. “For walking me on what turned out to be a not creepy at all morning.”
“You’re welcome,” Tom said. “Thankyoufor the offer of help. It already feels a bit easier knowing a soon-to-be investigative journalist is on the case.” Butterflies filled Daisy’s stomach at his description of her. It made her feel it was going to be possible one day.
“You’re welcome,” Daisy said. “I guess I’ll... see you on the bus?” she said, turning in the direction of work.
“Wait,” he shouted, a panic to his voice. She turned back. “Have you ever met Bill Nighy?” he asked.
She laughed, facing him. “Actually... yes. I interviewed him at a film festival last year.”
“And...?”
“He was everything you could possibly dream of and more,” she said, smiling at the memory.
Tom’s face lit up at this, his pale blue eyes sparkling. She shook her head, smiling at the unexpectedness of it. How refreshing it was to be asked about her job, when Zack rarely did.
“I fucking knew it,” he said, and he started walking away.
Chapter Six
Tom
Hey mate. Fancy brekky? I’m in your hood,Tom messaged Ralph. He’d found himself at a bit of a loss once he and Daisy had reached Goodge Street and when he kept walking and saw signs for Paddington he thought of his best mate, who lived in nearby Warwick Avenue.
Why are you in my hood at this hour? Meet me at Bondi Green in t-minus 30 minutes.
Ralph was a sergeant in the London Metropolitan Police and used language that regularly caused Tom to roll his eyes.
Walking along the canal, he wondered how long it might take Daisy to figure out what Sophie saw inOrlando. Could she, a virtual stranger, really get to the bottom of what caused Sophie to end things before he could figure it out himself—him being one of the two people who were actually in the relationship? Surely not, but it felt good to have someone offering to help after he’d gotten nowhere. And it was a relief, actually, to not have to read it again. Not that he could anyway, now that half the pages were making their way around London in the wind.
He just didn’t understand whythatbook? Why the breakupat all? What had changed amongst it all? He picked up speed toward the restaurant, flooding his mind with memories. Camping trips where they’d climb into the same sleeping bag for warmth and laugh at how little space there was. Where they’d both suggest a European city for a weekend trip and then play rock, paper, scissors to decide which one they’d visit. The laughing so hard as they ran across Waterloo Bridge that Sophie had to shout loudly, “Stop, I’m going to pee myself. No seriously, Tom, I think I just did,” as a passerby smirked at them, only making them laugh harder. Sophie beside Tom at his computer, seriously looking at the miniscule differences between fifteen photographs of supermodel Kiki Lawrence to decide which she thought was the best, before pulling him toward her and kissing him, whispering, “You’re so talented.”
