“Bit of both, maybe,” Tyler replies, deadpan. “First DatesmeetsPoirot.”
I huff out a laugh, but it catches halfway, because he’s still looking at me. The kind of look that feels too loaded for casual banter. Like he’s tuned out the music, the lights, even the couples sneaking off into the night, and the only thing left in focus is me.
We reach the edge of the garden, where the path curls into a small orchard. The trees are gnarled and twisted, branches arching overhead like a canopy. More fairy lights are strung through them, flickering softly, making the whole place feel like a secret.
There’s a wrought-iron bench under one of the trees, half-hidden in shadow. Tyler gestures toward it.
“Sit?”
I hesitate, my pulse still trying to catch up with me. “Is this the part where you confess you’re married with three kids and a secret career as a magician?”
He drops onto the bench, stretching one leg out. “No,” he says, dry. “But if I did magic, I’d probably use it to disappear whenever Helen walks into a room.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, and some of the tension in my chest loosens.
“Let’s keep walking,” I say quickly, because sitting feels dangerous, too still, too intimate.
He nods without argument, rising easily, and falls back into step beside me. The silence stretches again, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time. Just… comfortable.
“Sorry,” he says eventually, breaking the quiet.
I glance at him. “For what?”
“For… earlier. For her.”
“It’s not your fault she thinks I’m the wedding jester.”
His mouth twists, his expression briefly hardening. “She doesn’t know you.”
“I would ask what the hell you saw in her… but then I have eyes, so I can kind of guess.”
“There you go again,” he says, glancing at me sideways, “judging a book by its cover.” A pause. “But in this case, you’d be right.”
I stop walking for a second. “Really?”
He nods once, jaw tight, like this isn’t a story he shares often. “Ben set us up. She ticked all the boxes, on paper. Clever, polished, the perfect plus-one for a gallery opening. But she bored me to tears. In the end, I couldn’t even look at her without wishing I was home, hiding under a blanket with the telly on.”
The corner of my mouth quirks despite myself. “So, she’s your type, then?”
He shoots me a look. “That’s what you got from all of that?”
I shrug, but something shifts between us. The banter slips, the ground feels unsteady, like we’ve wandered off the safe path into deeper, quieter woods. His words aren’t just words now, they seem more exposed, and suddenly I’m aware of how personal this is becoming.
Panic flares. I reach for the only weapon I trust.
Humour.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome,” I say, the words dripping with exaggerated pity. “It’s just hard to feel sympathy for a man who’s dated a woman that looks like she moonlights forCosmoand probably knows how to work a charcuterie board without toppling it.”
He grins, slow and infuriating. “So, what’s your type then?”
“My type? I don’t really have one.” I shrug. “Unless you count emotionally unavailable men with questionable hobbies and the ability to ruin me with one look.”
Tyler chuckles, the sound curling down my spine. “Well. That’s oddly specific.”
“Yeah, well. I like a challenge.”
He steps a little closer, his eyes glinting under the moonlight. “And am I… ruining you yet?”
