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Harry reached for her hand across the table. “Oh, Lex—”
“I can’t leave the flat…those Lairds posters are everywhere, and a red Vespa will pass and I…” She stared at her plate. “London feels tainted…all the places we’ve been…”
“It’ll take time.”
“I can’t watch TV in case I see him—or hear him.”
Harry nodded. “I thought that was his voice on those Irish tourism adverts.”
“And stupid little things. I can’t eat Nutella, or Jaffa Cakes, and sleeping alone in our bed…knowing he’ll never come home…” Her eyes began to well up. “I couldn’t sleep it in anymore. I had to get rid of it. So, despite what everyone thinks, I’m trying everything I can to forget him…because clearly he’s forgotten me.”
Harry squeezed her hand.
She sniffed back tears. “I know…I’m the one who said it was over, but he was the one who broke us up. I thought maybe he’d email me since he took his stuff but…” She shook her head. “I haven’t emailed him. I haven’t searched his name on social media. I haven’t even Googled him. Why would I? To hurt more? Like that’s even possible.” She took in a shuddering breath. “I stopped wearing his necklace…”
“I’m sorry, Lex, I didn’t mean to make you cry—”
“Can we talk about something else, please?” She pulled her hand away and used her napkin to dab at a stray tear.
Harry let out a sympathetic sigh. “Sure. How’s your writing?”
“Good.”
He smiled kindly, not buying her response. “Lex…”
She looked up from her plate.
“That bounce you get when you’re passionate about something? Still missing.”
“That’s why I’m going to Dad’s—a fresh start. A change is as good as a rest, right?”
“Right—” Harry did a double take over Alex’s shoulder and dropped his fork. “Bloody hell?”
Alex followed his gleeful stare.
Harry couldn’t climb out of the booth fast enough. “Mate! I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“Come here, ya pillock.” The tall stranger manhandled Harry, yanking him into a bear hug punctuated with back slaps. They laughed like a pair of naughty schoolboys.
Their smiles were contagious. Alex fought it, but she broke out into a grin, too.
Pulling away, the new arrival locked eyes with her. “Hel-lo.”
“Tarquin Balfour, meet Alex Sinclair, my unofficial little sister from America. Alex, meet Tarquin. This bastard is the bane of my existence.”
Alex was sure his face matched a name she had seen commenting on Harry’s Facebook.
“Harry’s telling porkies.” Tarquin’s accent was an odd mix of upper-class polish and lad-on-the-piss. He scratched his scruffy reddish-brown hair and smiled.
Holy cheekbones and dimples…you could fall in and never climb out. Realizing she was staring, Alex’s eyes darted to her plate.
“I’m his brother from another mother, his partner in unspeakably salacious crimes…” Tarquin gave Harry a playful smooch on the mouth and laughed, his face giving in to an even wider grin, dimples in full effect.
Harry wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’ve been stuck with this berk from day one. We were born on the same day in the same hospital ward!”
Tarquin winked conspiratorially at his friend. “Come now, Harry…that’s not all we’ve shared.” He swooped down, all charming and gregarious, kissing Alex on both cheeks. He smelled fresh like soap…regular drugstore soap.
“Lovely to meet you, Alex. I’ve heard all about you, so I’m sure Hazza’s filled you in about me…”
