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“In many cultures, death is rebirth. A chance to live a new life.”
I don’t tell him to stick his new life hypothesis up his arse, because I’m barely holding back tears at the thought that I don't want my dad to live a new life when we didn’t get to do everything we wanted in this one. He’s my dad. He has no business being anything else.
“So, maybe Romeo and Juliet did get their happy ending in their next life. Some people believe that once you’ve found your soulmate in one life, you find them in every other life after that.”
I stare at Twaticus, unsure how to respond to that, certain that if I open my mouth, I’m going to fall apart and bawl my eyes out, because as lovely as the words sound from his lips, they’re not true. He’s also saying that if Dad came back in another life, it would only be to find my step-mum… but what about me?
I want my dad back more than anything on this earth. I want to tell him all the things I never got to—mostly that I’ll never know another man like him.
The irony of it is that he always spoke about all this reincarnation mumbo jumbo.
Just like Twaticus, who is holding my stare.
The green swirls over the brown in a hypnotic melange of colours I can’t pull myself away from. The longer I’m caught in the trance, the louder my heart drums in my ears. My ribs tighten around my lungs, making it harder to breathe past the ache throbbing somewhere between my chest and my throat.
“Cassidy,” I murmur, glancing down at his lips when his serious expression lightens. “My name is Cassidy.”
“I know,” he replies softly, side glancing at the bar where my notebook is still sprawled. “It’s on your ticket.”
The bartender returns with our drinks, and I turn back to the bar and notice that, this whole time, my boarding pass has been sticking out of my passport with my name printed in bold on it:
Cassidy Morgan
That glass of wine Twaticus ordered is looking more and more appealing as I read my name on repeat, and my cheeks burn hotter. I swear my insides shrivel when he edges the glass of wine closer and tilts his head into my peripheral vision.
I glance at him, narrowing my stare, while he smiles broadly, like he’s achieved a massive feat.
“Are you going to tell me your name?”
“You think I’m going to make it that easy for you after you made me work for it?”
“I didn’t make you anything, Maximus.” I grind out each word with as much venom as I can muster, even though it’s hard for me to hold a grudge with him smiling at me so big.
“Do I look like a Max to you?” He glances at his reflection in the mirrored back wall of the bar’s shelves, offering me his far too handsome side profile: thick hair, long lashes, high cheekbones, roman nose, plump lips, and those dimples that soften the chiselled lines of his face to a level of gorgeous that is criminal to my brain… maybe even my ovaries. That thought has me taking my time, taunting him with the grin that slowly tugs at my lips.
It feels like I’m taking the upper hand from him when I tell him, “On first impression, yeah. You give off the Twaticus Maximus vibes.”
Like a stereotypical American, he bursts out laughing, the boisterous sound echoing around us so that everyone in our vicinity looks our way.
I wait for the echo of his laughter to die down, but before I can open my mouth, he tucks a stray tendril of hair behind my ear and says, “Nice to meet you, Cassidy.”
Sense evades me as his closeness sends a thrill through my body. My insides buzz with a spark of electricity, shooting an overwhelming heat to my core when his fingertips lightly rake across my jaw before he pulls back. A furtive expression draws his face, slightly pinching the corners of his eyes as he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth.
I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know all manner of unwarranted and inappropriate thoughts litter my head, sending my pulse racing into the stratosphere. Dropping my gaze down his body, I can’t help but wonder how strong his broad shoulders must feel with all that brawn stretching the delicate wool of his rust-coloured jumper, which brings out the warm undertone of his skin. I’m shamelessly gawking while he tugs at his sleeves, pulling them halfway up his corded forearms to reveal intricate tattoos starting just above his wrists.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” His deep voice pulls me out of my head.
“What?”
“My name, Cassidy. Aren’t you going to ask me my name?”
Oh. I mean, it would make sense to ask him his name when he’s known mine all along, but there’s something satisfying about yanking his chain and messing with his hotshot confidence. “Who says I want to know, Maximus?”
“Fair enough. I guess we’ll have a nameless affair and move on.”
“For the whole forty-eight minutes I have left here.”
“Most guys don’t last that long.” His shoulders drop back, and he puffs his chest out as he juts his chin and grins.
