He leans back and sighs. ‘Maybe I should have just messaged them all. But I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear from me.’
‘I did,’ I reply. ‘Then I read your article. It sounded like you were glad bootcamp was over and patching things up with your wife… but your mum tells me you’re now divorced.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Of course she did. I’m not sure there’s anyone within a fifty-mile radius she hasn’t shared that particular nugget of information with.’
‘Sorry, things didn’t work out,’ I say. ‘I know you wanted it to.’
‘I did,’ he responds. ‘I really did. But then I went to that stupid fucking bootcamp and met you.’
My eyes meet his as he tentatively moves his hand on to mine.
‘I should have tried harder,’ Will says, his face visibly pained. ‘But then what? Crassly announce my divorce and expect you to give a shit after all this time? I didn’t want to disrupt your life because mine now had a vacancy… I wish we could have had longer at bootcamp. Maybe—’
‘Are you kidding?’ I exclaim. ‘Will, I’m grateful it wasn’t longer!’
Caught off guard, he frowns. ‘You are? Why?’
‘Because the way I felt about you after one week… well, any longer and I’m not sure my heart would have ever recovered.’
‘Sorry to interrupt, do you work here? I’m looking for Nora?’
My head snaps around to see a man in a denim jacket, stinking of cologne, with wide eyes and a look of anxiety which is universally recognised as Blind Date Face. It takes me a moment to click.
Martin Crawford. Foot clinic. He’ll be in tonight at 6pm for coffee and marriage.
Oh God, he brought flowers! My stomach isn’t just doing somersaults, it’s like the freaking Cirque du Soleil. I move my hand away from Will. Why is this happening, right now?
‘Yes,’ I reply, smiling meekly. ‘That’s—'
‘Me! I’m her. Nora Brown, at your service!’ Victoria swoops in like an eavesdropping ninja, quickly inserting herself between us. ‘Michael, right?’
‘It’s Martin actually.’
‘Are those for me?’ She takes the bouquet before he has time to respond. ‘Well, aren’t you just the sweetest?! Faith didn’t tell me you were as cute as a button!’
God, she’s really hamming it up here.
He looks at me again briefly and then back to Victoria. ‘Wait,you’reFaith’s sister? She didn’t tell me you were—’
‘Black?’ Victoria replies, frowning.
‘American,’ Martin responds, his face now burning. ‘She never mentioned you were American.’
Victoria laughs loudly and links arms with Martin, slowly pulling him away from our table. ‘Oh, I grew up in America, different fathers, obviously. Have you ever been to the States, Michael?’
‘Martin…’
Their voices slowly fade out as Vic takes him to a booth at the back of the diner. I turn to Will, who looks both bewildered and amused.
‘I’m not even going to ask,’ he says.
‘I wouldn’t even know how to explain if you did.’
‘Are you ready, Wilbur? We must shake a wicked hoof if we’re to get there on time.’
We both turn to see Jean exiting the bathroom. His face looks visibly pained.
‘You’re leaving tomorrow?’ I ask. ‘Your mum mentioned it.’
