For a moment neither of us speaks.
Not awkward.
Just still.
I glance at him. “Do you do this often? Taking guys home on the day you’ve met them?”
“No.”
“No?”
He turns his head towards me. “No. But naturally, I met the most interesting man I’ve come across in years five days before he buggers off to Toronto.”
I huff out something between a laugh and a groan.
“That is unfortunate timing.”
“Yeah.” His eyes stay on mine. “Didn’t feel worth ignoring.”
That strikes deeper than I expect.
I look back at the fire.
“We’ve only got the weekend,” I say.
“Better than nothing.”
Simple.
No argument. No attempt to make it into forever.
Just the weekend, accepted for what it is.
Which should feel safer than it does.
“You've been to Whitstable before?” he asks.
I laugh softly. “Yeah. I grew up in Herne Bay. Secondary school here. So I know it in the glamorous sense of buses, uniforms, and trying not to look like I cared I was in Whitstable.”
That gets a small smile.
“Family still there?”
“Herne Bay. Yeah.”
He nods once. “I can drive you over tomorrow, if you want.”
I hesitate.
Because it is not a strange offer.
It feels alarmingly natural.
“That’s kind,” I say. Then I look back at the fire. “I’m not very close to them.”
“All right.”
Just that.
