Page 64 of The Late Bloomer’s Playlist

‘None taken.’

‘A panic attack over what?’

‘Bill gave me a cinnamon bun.’

David paused with the chocolate and ice cream partway to his mouth. He narrowed his eyes, too, as though inspecting what I’d said for hidden meaning. ‘I feel as though I’m not getting all of the information here.’

‘Bill also said that he’d seen Sheila.’

‘Ah…’

‘With another woman.’

‘Bollocks.’

‘Bollocks, indeed.’ I threw three squares of chocolate in my mouth at once and kneaded my chest. The pain was coming in short bursts, even though I’d followed medical guidance to the letter: chocolate, ice cream, a mental health day. He’d said something about a blanket, too, but Fred had been lying across my feet since I’d started eating and I reasoned that was close enough.

‘My darling.’ David reached for my hand and my stomach tensed. ‘May I apply the balm of tough love?’

‘You’re going to anyway, aren’t you?’

He put a show into thinking about it. ‘Yes.’

‘Go on, then.’ I rested my remaining square of chocolate back in the wrapper. ‘Have at it.’

David pulled in a greedy breath and avoided eye contact, which did nothing for my nerves – or my chest pain.

‘If Sheila is moving on, do you not, perhaps, think it’s time…’ He wore a sad expression. I knew well enough without him saying.

I don’t know how long I took to think about my answer. But there seemed to be too many ticks from the kitchen clock before I managed to say, ‘What happens if I can’t? Do I stay heartbroken forever? Is that… Will that be what happens?’

He was the wrong person to ask, of course. David believed in heartbreak as much as I believed in panic attacks.

‘It will get easier,’ he answered, even though he didn’t sound convinced of what he was saying. ‘I’m told that time is very good for these things.’

I managed a laugh. ‘Any other wise suggestions?’

‘Only one.’ He stood and wandered out of view. I heard him ferret about in one cupboard, then another, a series of bangs coming from somewhere behind me before there was a final thud: a bottle landing on the table. ‘Butterscotch is an exceptional accompaniment to gin.’