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In the end they decided to stay in his office, sitting at either end of the sofa with the pizza boxes between them.
‘I’ve never had four cheeses before,’ she said, nibbling a string of mozzarella into her mouth. ‘I thought it would be too—’
‘Cheesy?’
She almost smiled. ‘No. Too dairy! But it’s actually not.’
They talked randomly. Nothing personal. Just about food and New York. But all the tension of the past two days seemed to have vanished. Finally he picked up the empty boxes, folded them in half and slid them back into the bag.
‘I think that’s probably the best pizza I’ve ever eaten. Where did you get it?’
Daisy felt a spasm of happiness shoot through her. It felt so much lighter, looser between them—normal, almost.
‘Oh, there’s this really great family-run pizzeria near David’s apartment.’
Rollo frowned. ‘Your brother’s apartment? That’s a bit of a trip from here.’
‘I suppose so. But I was out walking anyway.’
She glanced past him, colour rising on her face.
After Rollo had left she had been too angry and thwarted and confused to sit down. Instead she had paced round the apartment like an animal at the zoo. But pacing and anger were hard to sustain, and after an hour or so, her strides had started to shorten, her anger fading, until finally she’d stopped walking and sat down.
She’d felt miserable. And guilty. No doubt Rollo had thought that arranging an evening at the opera—just the two of them in a private box—would be the perfect way to spend some time alone together. And, remembering that moment of uncharacteristic irresolution before he’d spoken, she’d felt her stomach drop.
It had been a peace offering.
Only she had thrown it back in his face.
Worse, she’d been so busy resenting him that she’d focused entirely on why their relationship should fail when she should have been finding ways to make it work.
She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.
‘I always go for a walk when I’m upset. You know, when I need to think.’ Her eyes flickered past him. ‘It’s just all of this—us—it’s harder than I thought. And I think it’s going to get harder when I have to start lying to people. Not strangers... I mean my parents and David. But that’s my problem, not yours—’
‘That makes it my problem too.’
He was silent a moment, then he said quietly, ‘Are you worried they won’t approve of me?’
Her eyes widened with disbelief. ‘No, I’m worried they will. They’re going to be so happy for me—and I don’t deserve it. It makes me feel cruel.’
‘You’re not cruel.’ His face searched her face, eyes softening a fraction. ‘You’re here for your brother. That makes you loyal. And strong. It takes a lot of courage to do what you’re doing.’
Was that a compliment? She stared at him, confused. ‘Or stupidity.’
‘I don’t think you’re stupid.’
She grimaced. ‘You never read my school reports. “Could do better” was a fairly universal theme.’
‘That’s got more to do with your attitude than your aptitude.’
His voice was oddly gentle and, looking up, she saw he was leaning slightly forward, his expression carefully casual.
‘Maybe a little.’ She smiled weakly. ‘But David’s the smart one. He’s, like, a genius at maths and science. But he paints amazingly too—and he loves the opera—’ Her heartbeat gave a guilty little lurch.
‘Perhaps I should have invited him.’
She shivered, half choked on her breath, cleared her throat. ‘About that—’ She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. ‘What I said to you about opera. It was rude and unnecessary and I’m sorry.’
