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She hovers her fingers over the phone, breathing shallowly. ‘That I’m left out. Forgotten.’
‘No way.’
Jules’s gaze lifts to his, eyebrows raised. He didn’t mean to speak so forcefully, but the words flung themselves from his chest, squeezed out by a band of tightness. How could Jules think that?
Her blue eyes are watery and his gut yanks hard again. Softening his tone, he places his hand gently over hers. ‘No one would ever forget you. Especially not your family.’
She nods slowly, her hand twitching beneath his. ‘I know that, logically, but … You know, Mum and Dad have each other, and Finn and Cecilia and Toby are a little unit and I’m just … me. Here by myself.’ Her attention drops to the phone again for a moment before she switches it off and flips it over on the table. ‘A little like you, I guess.’
Her gaze travels over his face, bottom lip abused by her teeth again. ‘Do you ever …?’
She trails off without finishing the question, withdrawing her hand from beneath his so she can reach for more croissant. She chews, glumly, while fiddling with her silver bracelet. He can practically feel the melancholy drifting off her. She shouldn’t be feeling that way. He wants to soak it up somehow, so she can go back to the laughing and the teasing. Kissing it out of her is appealing, but he knows that’s the wrong approach, as much as he’s been craving her lips all morning.
He’ll have to go for a different technique. He clears his throat, then says, ‘It can feel like you’re missing out.’
She lifts her head, brow furrowed.
‘Being away from family,’ he clarifies.
‘Yes,’ she says softly, nodding. ‘You’re right. Even though I have wonderful, amazing friends, and an awesome place, and a stable job, so it feels silly to even worry about that.’ Another twist of her bracelet around her wrist. ‘But I do worry.’
‘We can’t control how we feel about stuff all the time.’ Like how he still wants to kiss her, despite, or maybe because of, the sadness in her eyes.
Her gaze roves over his face, inquisitive. ‘No. I guess we can’t.’
Otherwise, he’d choose not to feel like Canberra is home, but not homey. And he doesn’t think that can be fixed by buying some houseplants and finding the best Thai place in his area.
And now he’s the one swimming in melancholy.
He pulls back to his side of the table and grabs his half-eaten croissant. ‘So, uh. I forget what we were talking about before this deviation.’
‘You were telling me about places in Sydney.’
‘That’s right. What kind of places are you interested in?’ He’d guess museums, shows and bakeries. Some typical Sydney tourist places as well since she was in awe of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge last night.
‘Where would you go?’ she asks. ‘Any nice restaurants? Bars?’
‘Heaps. Maybe I should send through a list.’
‘Will you colour-code it based on type?’
‘Type?’
‘Yeah, like.’ She picks up her coffee and cradles it in her palm. ‘This is good for families. Um, nice brunch place. Cheap.’ Her eyes dart over his face and away. ‘Nice date location.’
His stomach tightens. Date locations? Why does she need to know about those?
‘I can do that.’ And if no date places make the list, so be it.
‘Thanks.’ She smiles, finishing the last of her coffee. ‘What would you do if you were here for a week? Not for work, just on holiday.’
‘Well, aside from visiting the family, I’d probably … Head to a few beaches. Do some walks around the coast. Go out for drinks with—’ He stops. He used to go out regularly with people from Cable. That wouldn’t happen now. ‘Go out and see some live music.’
‘Is that what you did when you lived here?’
‘Pretty much.’
She drops her chin onto her hand and stares at him.
