“You think so?”
“Definitely. Surely she has other shoes?”
“I hope so,” he said, his mouth setting in a straight line. “She has very delicate feet. They couldn’t handle a life without shoes.”
“The things you come out with,” Daisy said, shaking her head. She was trying to imagine Zack ever describing her in any of the ways Tom described Sophie. It was as though Tom saw the intricate details of someone and Zack saw only the surface of Daisy, or what she had once admitted in therapy sessions. The thought stalled her for a moment. Did it bother her, or was it something she’d just noticed?
“So do you think you might put your name in the hat? Get up and tell your story?” Daisy asked, as the bartender finally approached to take their order.
“Me?”Tom asked. “Hell no. You’re the wordsmith around here.”
A flash of heat hit Daisy’s cheeks and she wondered if she’d ever stop blushing at Tom’s compliments. “It could be the one though,” she said. “Orlando writes stories and poems for literally hundreds of years. He’s very passionate about it. In fact,” she continued, following the bartender with her eyes, “I read that the book was basically Virginia Woolf’s love letter to writing and to literature. Well, that and to her girlfriend that she was seeing at the time behind her husband’s back.”
“What? How do you know all that?”
“You read the book amilliontimes and you never bothered with the introduction?”
“Who bothers with the introduction?” Tom asked, frowning, at which point Daisy burst out laughing.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Clara said, appearing beside Daisy at the bar, just as the bartender handed over a bottle of white wine and three glasses. “Felicity sent in some last-minute audio from Jack Black that had to go out.”
“All good,” Daisy said, smiling and hugging Clara, before signaling to Tom.
“Clara, Tom. Tom, Clara,” she said and Tom reached his arms out, immediately giving Clara a hug.
“I have heard a sickening amount about you,” Tom said.
“Ditto,” Clara said back. “Allveryaverage.”
Tom leaned back laughing and Clara smiled, then turned to Daisy, mouthingfit, her eyebrows raised. Daisy rolled her eyes and picked up the wine, nodding her head at the bar to where Tom was already collecting the glasses.
“So from what I understand,we’rehere becauseDaisyhere believes that attending this event will win back your ex-girlfriend,” Clara said as Daisy handed over their tickets and walked into the main auditorium, where the live slam was taking place.
She walked to a round table to the left of the stage. “Yup. If Sophie sees that Tom has been to a live storytelling event, she won’t be able to resist him.”
“But why?” Clara asked, taking the seat one away from Daisy, leaving space in the middle for Tom, who laughed.
“I see the journalist coming out in both of you here,” he said. “I didn’t even really think to ask, I just trust Daisy implicitly.”
Clara turned to Tom, her eyes laser-focused. “You’re very wise to do so.”
“Wait,” Daisy said. “You didn’t finish the story. Tom’s ex called him last night,” she explained to Clara. “How long were you on the phone for?”
“About ten minutes. I asked for permission to use one of her photos in my exhibition and she sounded really surprised I was doing one. I was a bit annoyed I hadn’t saved that to use later, to be honest.”
“Thinking like a true professional in the get-your-ex-girlfriend-back mission these days.” Daisy nodded her approval, holding her hand up for a high five. He pressed his palm against hers before lowering it.
“I think it’s good she knows now,” she continued. “It gives her time to wonder whether she’ll be invited or...” Daisy tookin his expression and raised her eyebrows. “Or not, because you... already... invited her?”
“Blurted it out almost immediately,” he answered solemnly, and Daisy lit up at his expression—like a naughty child who’d done exactly what he’d been told not to.
Clara poured wine into their glasses and pushed one toward each of them as more people wandered into the room, taking their seats at each of the tables.
“That’s okay,” Daisy said, shrugging. “You’ll just need to add a bit of mystery and intrigue to the event.”
“Ooooh...” Clara said, her voice rising in excitement. “I know.”
“What?”
