“Two years…?” He raises his eyebrows.
I shoot him a look that could strip paint.
He mimes zipping his lips.
“I didn’t think this would be my life,” I say finally. “Thirty-four, single, drunk in a maze. Don’t get me wrong, it’s on brand, but it’s also… not what I imagined.”
He leans back on his hands beside me. “What did you imagine?”
I shrug. “Not this. Not standing on the sidelines making jokes while everyone else is building their lives. I thought I’d be… I don’t know. Sorted. Settled. Happy.”
The words hang there, too bare, too honest.
“I’m just tired, Tyler,” I say defeated. “Tired of pretending I’m okay with it. Tired of being the sidekick in everyone else’s love story.”
He’s quiet. Then, almost under his breath, he says, “You’re not the sidekick.”
I turn to look at him. “How do you know?”
He’s staring ahead. Not smirking. Not sarcastic.
For a long moment he doesn’t say anything, and I start to wonder if I’ve finally broken him. Then he shifts slightly, as though the words have landed somewhere he wasn’t expecting.
“I know more about you than you think,” he says at last, voice low.
I blink. “What?”
His jaw tightens. “Ben talks about you.” A pause. “Your…adventures.”
“Oh, fuck me…”
“They’re not all bad, I promise,” he says rather reluctantly, half laughing. “He mentioned how you were there for Lily when her mum died. When she didn’t get that job last year. How you took her to Butlins just to cheer her up.”
He pauses.
“Why Butlins, Hayley? My God, you could have chosen anywhere else.”
“Would you believe me if I said…?”
“Actually, never mind. I think it’s safer not knowing.” But he continues “He told me about the therapist you helped him find. TheAlice in Wonderlandtea party you organised for his niece’s birthday party.”
I blink. “Holy fuck. Does Ben love me?!”
Tyler laughs. “No, princess. But maybe he should. You walk in a room and people feel better. That’s not nothing.”
I look at him, stunned. “Is that… a compliment?”
He shrugs. “Don’t get used to it.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Okay, your turn. Is this the life you thought you’d have?”
He lets out a low breath. “Not even close. I’m thirty-six. I thought I’d be married by now. Well, more likely divorced, but still… figured out. Not the guy sprinting through a hedge maze trying to make up for being a dick.”
“You? Tall, dark, and built like a Jane Austen wet dream with a gym membership? How do you cope?”
He doesn’t rise to it. Just stares at me.
I groan. “Sorry. I did it again. I don’t mean to be a bitch, it’s just… look at you. Have you seen you?”
