Page 27 of Unapologetic Love Story

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘I’m neurodivergent. What do you think?’

‘Education?’

‘Isn’t all of this on the internet?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Can’t you fill in these gaps yourself? Besides, I thought this was going to be about the podcast?’

‘Apologies. When did you know you were different?’

He held his breath but her expression softened.

‘Well, when did you know you were neurotypical.’

‘Oh.’ He thought about it, a question he’d never considered before. ‘I always knew, I suppose.’

‘Yes,’ Raina said softly. ‘And I always knew I wasn’t.’

Tom was struck by the simplicity and frankness of it. He watched as she let the silence between them speak for her. He was about to ask her some questions about her work when—

‘I don’t mind your writing, you know.’

He blinked. ‘Oh, really?’

‘I prefer things with a little poetry in them, but for mercenary takedown pieces, yours aren’t bad.’

Tom grinned. ‘I’ve always preferred bluntness to poetry.’

‘The best poetry is blunt.’

‘Your podcast . . .’ He broached a segue and tried to steer the conversation with care. ‘You seem . . . Your fans know you to be a bit of a romantic.’

She smiled, amused by his slight hesitation. ‘A completely hopeless one, yes.’

‘That surprises me.’

‘Why?’

‘I didn’t know that was in vogue these days.’

‘Yes, that’s definitely something I worry about a lot. Seeming on trend. Autistics are really famous for moving with the rest of the herd.’

She was teasing him. Her words were challenging him to laugh. She wasn’t going to give him an inch, he realized. She was minding every syllable with razorlike focus.

‘There just doesn’t seem to be much romance in the world these days.’

Tom said the words flippantly but they caused his interviewee to frown. She thought for a moment and then glanced around the pub they sat in, with its high ceilings and small chandeliers. It was beautifully decorated with gold foil on the wallpaper and tinkling crystal on the bar. Hardwood floors and a fireplace with a glossy mantel.

‘It’s a lens,’ Raina finally said.

‘Pardon?’

‘You have to choose to see it.’

‘Delusion then?’ Tom joshed, not unkindly. ‘La vie en rose?’

‘Of sorts. You have to romanticize life. Not the truly dangerous parts, of course. But the mundane parts. Growing up in Woodstock, I had to walk a mile to get to the right bus stop every morning before school. Now I could have just walked. Head down and detached. Or I could choose to put some sweeping music on and imagine that it was finally the day where everything would change. I was a girl stuck in a tiny town where everyone thought I was a bit strange but that was fine! That’s how so many stories start. It’s the beginning of the movie. It only means there’s so much better ahead.’

She shrugged and Tom caught a flash of something defenceless in her face.

‘And sure, most days I was cold and exhausted and nothing changed. Life didn’t have a lot of colour. But the dream was an escape. At least for a little while.’