“I am indeed.”
“I would be honoured…” And then it hits me. “…Oh.”
She frowns immediately. “What?”
“Crap. I’m sorry, I actually can’t.”
Her face drops slightly.
“I’ve got that charity ball this weekend,” I say, already annoyed about it. “In the city. My agent’s been on at me about it for weeks. Apparently it’s ‘good publicity’.”
She nods slowly. “In the city?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
I hate the way her expression softens.
“I know,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she says quickly. “Of course it is.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” she says softly.
Then she smiles.
“But I can’t wait to see the photos.”
“Photos?” I repeat.
“Of you in a suit.”
I groan. “Oh God.”
“Jesus, Rory.”
“What?”
“Rory Bennett in a suit.”
She fans herself dramatically and I laugh.
“That might actually kill me.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No.”
She grins. “Exactly.”
Our food arrives then, and for a while everything just… settles. We talk about nothing and everything. School, the kids, stupid stories from years ago that somehow feel different now we’re sitting here like this, like we’re building something. Then…
“Sorry… are you Rory Bennett?”
