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I squint at him, equal parts amused and annoyed.
“Amaranthine twilight,” I concede.
His face cracks wide into a smile.
I frown, not feeling like being teased by anyone today, least of all him. “I look good in lilac.”
His face softens a little. “Yes, you do.”
Our eyes hold.
“I know,” I tell him, my nose in the air.
He goes “hah” again and the years whistle around our ankles like leaves in the wind and we’re lovers in autumn under a tree raining orange and regret, and in that moment we’re still each other’s and time wraps around us in the infinity we thought we had but we don’t anymore because he broke us.
He smiles a little, watching me closely. “You good?”
“Yes.” I give him a glib smile. “I’m simply thrilled to be here celebrating a love birthed in the canal of infidelity.”
He laughs and for some reason it sounds like I’m ringing the doorbell of the home I grew up in.
“Here for long?” Not letting go of my eyes.
“Just a few weeks.”
“You staying til—”
“—Yes,” I cut in.
He nods, I nod. I feel dizzy. I grab my drink, take a few big sips to steady my jitters.
“So,” I take another drink, “I hear you’ve got a girlfriend.”
His face pulls funny. Strained. Uncomfortable? Remorseful? Disappointed? Frustrated? Maybe none of the above — maybe he’s just sorry for me.
He nods once. “I do.”
Have we lost touch? I wonder. The thought makes me feel panicky. Has a year apart changed our channels? I don’t think I can hear his thoughts anymore.
“She’s not here.” I glance around.
He shakes his head. “Felt like that might be inappropriate—”
“—And yet, here you are.” I give him a curt smile as though I’m not hanging on to every word he’s saying.
“I was invited.” His eyebrows flicker in defence and he shrugs a little. “Mum made me,” he lies.
And I can tell he’s lying — his mouth falls at a particular angle when he’s lying. I don’t even care that he is, I’m just glad I can still tell. Glad to have not lost him completely.
“Besides,” he shrugs again, “I didn’t want Mars charging down the aisle and tackling her. The society papers have been surprisingly drama-free in your absence,” he tells me with a look.
I roll my eyes.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asks and I wish I could say yes. I wish I had a boy I could wear like a hard hat for my heart, but I don’t.
“I was,” I say because it’s fractionally less pathetic than a plain old no.
“What happened?”
