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Just then David Blake entered the room, filling up the space with his big energy. “Oliver and I are taking a break from writing. So, when you’re ready… we’re ready… Hi Aaron…” His eyes alighted on Alice and his face lit up. “Hu-llo, Alice.” He bounded round the island bench, circumnavigated Aaron and enveloped Alice in a big hug. “One thing I miss about my younger son moving out is not seeing you around the place.” He held her away from him and frowned. “You look different, your hair, maybe?”
“It’s not in a ponytail.” Alice beamed. “And I’m not wearing glasses.”
“Doesn’t she look great?” Andrea said. And off they went again, like a pair of noisy galahs.
Aaron chewed the inside of his lip until it tasted metallic. “Hi, Dad,” he said finally.
David glanced at him with that look he got around Aaron, like he was waiting for the disappointment to hit. “Hi, son, how’s work going?” he asked.
“Busy as hell.”
“Well, don’t complain, it’s what you wanted.”
Aaron’s skin smarted. “I wasn’t complaining. Just stating a fact.”
For a second he felt Alice’s eyes on him, then Andrea picked up a plate and shoved it into David’s ample stomach. “Stop grousing and take these into the lounge. Alice, sweetie, could you bring some plates? You carry this one in, Aaron, there’s a dear.” She handed the iced pink thing to him.
“Are you fattening us up for Christmas?” he asked, trying to sound as light as Andrea’s sponge cake.
“Always.” Andrea laughed.
* * *
Alice’s stomach felt like a balloon. Nerves had made her cram way too much cake into her mouth. It was delicious, as was everything Andrea created, but her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow and she’d kept refilling her tea from the pot to wash it all down.
Aaron, meanwhile, sat opposite her looking like some seedy lead singer in a grunge band; probably she should know some names, but she didn’t like grunge. She liked all the old stuff, like Simon and Garfunkel and Van Morrison, particularly “Brown-Eyed Girl”—it always made her think of how it might have been between her and Aaron.
She balanced her plate on her knees and cast another glance at him. He was talking with Oliver, quite good-naturedly for once, and she could take in the way his T-shirt, grunge or no grunge, seemed to hug his pecs and outline his flat abs; the sexy way his bicep bunched as he put his plate back on the coffee table. Her mouth went even drier as she thought about what she’d been doing with that body only a few short days ago…
“More cake, Alice?” Andrea asked.
“Oh, no, Andrea, I couldn’t.” She patted her tummy. “I’ve eaten so much already.”
“The verdict?”
“By a whisper, I think the angel cake.”
Andrea nodded. “I think so too. So you reckon if we put the violets on top of that one, we’ve got our winner?”
“Yes, most definitely.”
They discussed a time when Alice could come and help make them. She wasn’t averse to the idea of learning the art of confectionery. It was a thin thread that still connected her to Aaron. Because, admit it, that’s all there would be from now on. She dug her fingernails into her palm to stop the miserable inner dialogue.
After a few more minutes of conversation about how to make violets, Alice said, “I really should be going, it’s a couple of buses home from here, so—” She stood up.
Aaron jumped up. “I can give you a lift.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Suddenly Alice was aware of three pairs of eyes homing in on her. “All right then,” she said and went to search for her coat and bag with Andrea.
In the lift, Alice wedged herself into a corner while Aaron hummed and looked at the roof. Her anxiety threatened to turn into panic. That morning Polly had come up with a genius idea that was now burning a hole in her handbag. Alice had given up on the idea, deciding no way would she do it after Aaron seemed so disinterested. Until the offer of a lift home. And suddenly here was her chance. So what if it didn’t work? Her hands went clammy. But hells bells, there were icicles forming in the space between her and Aaron right now. What did she have to lose?
As they got out of the lift, Alice tilted her bag until the small pad of notes and her purse fell on the ground. She picked up the purse. Aaron bent and picked up the notes. He looked at them with a frown on his face “What’s all this?”
“Oh, nothing.” She made to grab them from him, then forced a giggle. “Just some ideas Polly and I were putting together for my Tinder profile.”
He scanned the notes, harder this time. She wanted to rip them off him, but somehow she tethered her hands to her sides.
