Page 6 of Secret Paths

She should get out.

I should let her.

Neither of us moves.

When she turns towards me, the light catches only half her face. Not enough to make her clear. Just enough to make me want to look closer.

There is a looseness to her now that was not there in the pub. The careful GP has slipped a little. The woman underneath the public persona is still here, tucked into the passenger seat of my car, pretending this goodbye is simple.

It is not.

Her hand lowers from her bag and rests on the centre console.

Close.

Not touching.

An invitation, if I am brave enough to take it.

I move first.

Barely.

Just enough for my knuckles to brush hers.

She looks down at the touch.

Then she turns her hand over.

It is not dramatic. No grand gesture.

Only Mandy, letting me lace my fingers through hers.

Her palm is warm. Her fingers fit between mine as if they have been waiting for the touch all evening, and I like it far more than I am prepared to admit.

“You are staring,” she says, but her voice is softer than the words.

“Yes.”

“At least deny it.”

“I have no defence.”

Her mouth curves, small and reluctant.

I stroke my thumb once over the back of her hand. “I should say goodnight.”

“You should.”

“You should go inside.”

“I should.”

The sensible answers sit between us, useless.

Mandy’s gaze drops to my mouth.

That is all it takes.