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Finn nods, and rummages about in the cupboards for a saucepan. “So how’s Priya?” he asks.
Mel thinks of the latest photo Priya sent on WhatsApp—her with a friend she’d made out there, both grinning into the camera with the ocean as a backdrop.
Not a big fan of you, currently. “She’s good.” I miss her, is what she doesn’t say. But it’s what she feels every time Priya’s name is mentioned—no matter that it’s been months now. She lost her two people in quick succession, both Finn and Priya leaving her. But that’s selfish, and she’s doing her best to downplay how hard she’s been finding it. So the most recent message she sent her best friend was carefully crafted to be upbeat, saying the whole holiday has made her realize how over Finn she is, and how much better they are apart. Because that’s what she wants to be happening—and if she repeats it enough then maybe it’ll be true.
“I can’t believe she actually went through with it,” Finn says with a smile.
“I know.” Priya had been on the verge of it for years—she’d be determined she was going to do it, move somewhere to teach abroad, then almost immediately she’d back out, claiming that it wasn’t her, that she wasn’t the adventurous type. And Mel is so proud of her—that she finally did it, made the leap and went after something she wanted. Isn’t that what life is all about, after all? Should she be thinking that of Finn, if what he wanted was to leave her and go back to flipping houses? If she was a nicer person, would she be able to be happy for him?
He still dumped you, Melanie. Let’s not get carried away.
“I keep waiting for her to call me and tell me she’s met some hunky Australian surfer and is going to settle down there forever.” Mel says it as a joke but can’t quite mask the hint of sadness in her voice—because there’s a chance, isn’t there, that Priya won’t ever come back.
“You could visit,” Finn says in a way that makes it obvious he’s clocked her tone. “I mean, in general—not only if she meets an Australian surfer.”
“I will.” She should have done before now—but a combination of work and wanting to let Priya settle on her own stopped her. She’s felt like she should be more stable when she visits Priya, so she doesn’t accidentally make it all about her. She’d try not to, of course, but Priya is astute. Maybe, after Christmas, she’ll do it. She could go and work out there for a few months, even. Isn’t she always telling everyone she can work from anywhere? What’s the point in having your own company if you can’t be flexible? But it’s a pipe dream, really. If Lillian Hart comes on board, it’ll be all hands on deck for the foreseeable—and to be in charge of the team she really needs to be near the London office.
Finn is watching her as she chops, and she realizes she’s gone quiet, thinking. “You know,” he says slowly, “I don’t think Priya is the surfer type. Maybe an Australian doctor.”
Mel quirks an eyebrow. “Specifically an Australian one? As opposed to any random doctor?”
“Oh yeah. He’s so Australian. He lives in the bush. And has a pet kangaroo. Or a koala. A koala he’s rescued and is disabled so it’s not, like, mean to keep it as a pet.”
Mel’s lips twitch. “A doctor with a disabled koala?”
“Yes.” Finn stirs the milk-cream mixture. “And he is really good at the boomerang. Like a national champ or something.”
“Cracking out all the stereotypes, hey?”
“You didn’t let me finish. He’s scared of spiders, so Priya has to do all those under-the-lid checks for him.” Mel nods—sounds like something she’d do. Priya may have been scared of big life choices, but there was nothing that could flap her in the day-to-day. “And he likes sunset walks on the beach and he’s tall, probably, and has eyes the color of the ocean and…”
“Is this Priya’s idea of a perfect Australian man or yours?”
“Honestly, at this stage I don’t know.”
She laughs, shaking her head. She can feel the way he is watching her, how his hand has stilled in the saucepan.
She turns to see him smiling at her. “I’ve missed that,” he murmurs.
She frowns. “What?”
His gaze catches on hers. “The sound of your laugh.”
She doesn’t know how to respond to that—and doesn’t like the way he is looking at her right now, the way it is making heat flood her insides. Who is he, to go on about missing things to do with her? He was the one to end it.
A phone lights up with an incoming message on the kitchen counter and Mel jumps, her attention drawn to it automatically. There’s the quick question of whether it’s hers, whether there’s something at work she’s forgotten. At the same time that she realizes it’s Finn’s phone, he reaches down and flips it so the screen is facing down.
She looks away deliberately. She wasn’t looking for that reason—she doesn’t care who he’s talking to. But in all the years they were dating, he was never secretive about his phone and it makes her wonder—why now? What is it that he doesn’t want her to see?
The timer beeps and Mel grabs the oven gloves as she opens the oven door. She turns, baking tray in hand, and only just catches herself before she walks straight into Finn. She swears under her breath, stumbling slightly, and he reaches an arm out to steady her. She jerks back, away from his hand—but right into his arm. She swears she hears the hiss as the hot metal tray sears Finn’s bare flesh.
“Shit!” he yelps, pulling his hand back.
“What are you doing?” Mel demands, stepping back away from him. Why is this kitchen so bloody small?
“Stopping you from face-planting!”
She grimaces, looking down at the angry red mark on his skin. “You’re burnt.”
