“It’s okay,” Forrest says, patting my shoulder. “That speech is only on like a thousand phone videos and will be viral by tomorrow. Nothing to worry about.”
“Well, that’s it. I’m going to the lab,” I say. “And I’m staying there until this nightmare is over.”
“The wedding?” Forrest asks. “Listen. There’s laughing and clapping. They’ve forgotten your speech already.”
“No, I need to recuse myself from life,” I tell him. “I am not fit for human consumption.”
“No!” Artie protests. “Daddy says I have to go to bed, and I don’t want to go to bed unless you tell me a story, Ava!”
“Artie, what did I tell you?” Forrest tells the little girl, who pulls another rose out of the arrangement. “You can’t use my friends as a way to procrastinate about sleep!”
Did Forrest just say we are friends, when last night he said he was falling for me? Can you do both? Is that allowed, or are there rules? Both sound kind of perfect. I’m not sure how it fits in the whole licking aspiration, but I like it.
“Anyway, Artie, I don’t know any stories,” I tell her.
“That’s okay,” she says. “Just start talking and something funny and silly is bound to come out.”
Forrest’s shoulders shake with laughter.
“Artie,” he says, trying to be stern. “We can’t force Ava to tell you stories. She’s done enough entertaining for tonight.” He smiles and says to me, “Look, if you need a safe space, Hal’s in the drawing room, alone.”
Looking towards the drawing room, my shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. I do need to talk to Hal, but not until I know I’m not going to say something ridiculous. And that might be never.
“Come on then, Artie,” I say, taking her hand. “Let’s see how much of a stupid story I can tell you.”
Chapter Forty-Five
“...Anyway, mathematical models that describe decoherence involve complex differential equations that track how quantum states... Artie? Artie, are you asleep?” A small snuffly snore replies.
“Well,” I say softly to Forrest, who is sitting on a chair in the corner, “I hadn’t even got to the best bit yet. I guess being a cow warrior is tiring.”
“That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen her go to sleep,” Forrest says softly, picking up her horned helmet and hanging it on the back of the chair. “You’ve got a babysitting job anytime you want it.”
“Shame you’ll be on the other side of the Atlantic,” I reply.
“It is, isn’t it?” Forrest says, suddenly intense.
Quietly, we pad out of the room into the hallway, softly closing the door behind us.
“Artie is a great kid though,” I tell Forrest, “although, to be fair, she is pretty much the only little kid I know, so I don’t have a lot of comparisons.”
“Well, I think she is the greatest little kid of all time,” Forrest says as we walk back downstairs. “But I am biased. Anyway,I heard a rumour that if you happen to go outside to the garden, via the kitchen, there is quite a lot of champagne in the fridge, so much, in fact, that no one would notice if one or two went missing. Want to steal a bottle and go sit under our cedar trees? The... the cedar trees, I mean.” Forrest coughs. “Sorry, Ava, I know I shouldn’t be suggesting things to you, not...”
“Like sitting under trees? You’re right, you scoundrel,” I say with a smile. “But actually, Forrest, you probably didn’t notice, but I did get quite squiffy earlier, and so I don’t think any more champagne is a good idea. I might start saying my inside thoughts out loud again.”
“But I like your inside thoughts,” Forrest says.
You don’t know the half of it, I think, firmly inside my head.
“But a hangover, huh? I might know just the thing for that.”
“Is it more champagne?” I ask.
“No,” he laughs. “But I am at risk of you calling me a scoundrel again.”
“Why?” I ask, trying not to sound intrigued.
“Did you know they have a swimming pool?” Forrest asks. “Other side of the house. Heated and everything.”
