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“It’s one of Maddie’s favourite desserts. Quite old-school of a choice, in my opinion, but somehow, she loves it.” She shrugs as she says this, and I wonder if it’s a passing comment or if she intends the significance of it.

“She told me.”

“Well, maybe one day you can make it for her,” she muses.

“I hate banoffee pie,” Felix states.

I turn my gaze away from Delilah, and I can tell that he doesn’t hate banoffee pie, but he’s cautious about this relaxed little exchange between us. Something that feels nostalgic and without the complexities I thought all conversations between us would have.

“You’d think a man who likes White Russian cocktails would be less picky about their dessert preferences,” Delilah teases, seemingly oblivious to any hostility or tension radiating from Felix.

“A grown-ass woman who still cuts her burgers in half to eat them ought not to throw stones about other people’s preferences for food and drink,” Felix fires back.

The teasing continues as the dinner progresses, and with every quick exchange, funny comment, or hoot of laughter, I find myself letting go of some of the tensions and frustrations I’ve held onto for far too long. It feels like every exchange they pull me into makes another ounce of it leave my body.

There’s an uncomfortable moment when I realise that, if I had chosen differently when Hannah confronted me, perhaps this is how my life would have turned out: sitting around a table with Delilah, Felix, and Caleb, laughing and joking like none of us have a care in the world.

***

“Thank you for dinner.” I offer my hand for Caleb to shake.

He reaches for it but then pulls me close for a hug, slapping me heartily on the back like I’m his teammate and we’ve just won the championship game.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad no blood was spilt and that everybody could remain as adults,” he replies as he pulls away. He offers me a warm smile, and I think about how well he and Felix are suited. They’re nothing alike, but Caleb’s open nature and pragmatism appear to be the perfect counter to Felix’s quick tongue and fiery temper.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Delilah offers.

“Fairly sure he won’t get lost,” Felix grumbles. Apparently, it’s still a tentative truce.

Delilah rolls her eyes as she puts her shoes on. I put my own on and give a curt nod to Felix, receiving one back.

I follow Delilah out of the house and back down the driveway to where I parked my car. We stand awkwardly, and I know she’s trying to look anywhere but at me.

“Delilah, listen,” I say. She still doesn’t look at me, and I reach out to touch her cheek. I guide her face gently so her eyes are on me. She lets out a nervous-sounding huff of laughter.

“As if that isn’t the most ominous thing to say.”

“I know we said we would call a truce, but—”

“Oh gosh, what did he say that ruined it?” she cuts in.

“Nothing. He said nothing wrong, and I didn’t say anything about the truce being broken. What I was going to say was… how about instead of a truce, we say a fresh start?” I suggest.

“A fresh start,” she echoes.

“I want to see if we can find a way forwards without taking the hurt and anger with us.”

“You can do that?” Her eyes search mine.

“Yes, I can. I understand now. It’s taken me a long time, but I do. I understand.”

I can see that she knows what I mean. There’s no confusion on her face, just surprise. I don’t blame her given how difficult I’ve made things for her over the years, but I can see how I contributed—caused—those choices.

“You do?”

“Yes. Talking to you, to Felix, to Verity, to Maddie… I get it. I understand, and you were right. Everything you did, every choice you made, it was all for the best. You did the right thing.”

I stroke my thumb across her cheek, and she stares at me, silent and still with the surprise on her face.