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Chapter 8
Solo eyed the two overcooked eggs and limp piece of fatty bacon on his plate, and his stomach rose to meet his mouth. He had no idea why he’d ordered it except the brekky feast was the easiest thing to ask for from the grumpy woman behind the counter.
In truth, all he could focus on right now was meeting Polly at 8 a.m. and the fact that she had his god-damned wallet. He’d been trying to remember if there was anything in there she could have sussed about him. No. The emergency numbers were on his phone. There was only the photo in his wallet and there were none of Emma. He’d shredded them, but that one of him and Drew and Pop, that had been good times—great times, in fact. He couldn’t bring himself to get rid of that one, even when everything he could ever claim as friendship between them had blown apart.
He sighed, raked a hand through his hair, picked up his knife and fork and looked up to see Polly marching towards him.
A part of him wanted to laugh. He could imagine her as a little girl, pugnacious and determined, curls framing a Shirley Temple face. Probably into everybody’s business even then. Precocious. The sort of kid you loved and hated at the same time.
Like now. The totally confusing urge to take her in his arms and kiss her, or put her over his knee and…back up the truck,all sexual fantasies must be kept right out of the picture from now on. With the effect she had on his body, and her being privy to the contents of his wallet, his sleep had been fitful. He’d had to take a very cold shower to get rid of his morning glory.
Enough was enough.
“Hi.” She bounced her bag onto the table, drew out his wallet and almost threw it at him. “Money’s all gone. Credit cards too.”
He gave her a sideways smirk, said “thanks”, and shoved it deep into the inner pocket of his jacket.
She leaned over, both palms on the table, and peered onto his plate. “Euwie. Not nice. Should have warned you to avoid the brekky feast. And never, ever eat the rissoles.”
“Yes, Ben told me.”
“Hmmm, I’m gonna get a coffee. Back in a sec.”
Trying not to let his eyes follow her as she flounced off to the counter, he cut off a tiny rectangle of bacon and put it in his mouth. A film of lukewarm grease coated his tongue. He followed it with a mouthful of cardboard toast, which got stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow.
In no time Polly was back with her coffee. “Guess we could have gone to The Healthy Bite café, but I’m a bit off it at the moment.”
“Oh, why?”
“No reason.” A pause, followed by a little quirk of the lips. “Okay, I’ll fess up. I used to have a long-term fuck-buddy thing going with the guy there and, unfortunately his new wife works in the café with him so, you know, I don’t want to look like I’m stalking.”
“Are you?” He kept his tone light.
She was edging her fingers around her coffee cup. “No, of course not. But I guess it gets awkward once there’s another person who could misunderstand things.”
“That was their wedding on Saturday, right?”
“Yep. Sort of changed the dynamic. And they’re not going on a honeymoon yet, so I thought I’d keep my distance.”
Solo nodded. Why was there this strange contraction behind his ribs? Was it the wistful look on her face that kept jabbing him sharply in the region of his chest, or something from further back? Past and present blurred. Hurt about the past, yeah sure, he could be pretty clear what that was about, but hurt right here and now? Shit. Was he actually jealous?For God’s sake, man, grow up!One night and he was Mr Moonie Teenager.
He picked up his coffee cup, ready to hide behind it. “You guys were serious?”
She cast him a quick glance. “No, never actually. But we were good mates for years, and I miss that—quite a lot, to be honest. There, now you have it, Polly Fletcher factoid number one. I have a heart, after all.”
Solo took a gulp of coffee, a warm wave of something like relief softening his belly before a hit of bad coffee made it tense up again. “Urgh. Maybe you could get over it for the sake of decent coffee.”
Polly gave him a dazzling smile. “Well, Dr Jakoby, I’m sure in a few days I will. One thing you’ll learn about me, I never pine for a man.”
“Great philosophy.” Solo forced a grin. This time the knot in his stomach had nothing to do with the coffee.
He put his knife and fork down. He couldn’t actually eat with that disconcerting gaze surveying him over the top of her cup.
“Guess we should discuss this group we’re going to be running together,” he said.
Polly put her cup down. “How much group facilitation have you done in the past?”
He shrugged. “Some. Mainly while I was in psychiatry training. Once you’re fully qualified you get too bogged down in sorting out medication reactions and keeping people from self-harming. Lots of crisis work.”
