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‘There are good reasons to go back and good reasons to stay,’ Finn said quietly.
I swallowed, perhaps not quite as soundlessly as I would have liked.
‘Here you go,’ said the cab driver, shattering the moment as we pulled up in front of our destination. I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed or relieved by the interruption as Finn paid the fare and we entered the hotel.
Tables beside the windows were obviously at a premium in the restaurant, but Finn had secured us one. Like an excited tourist on their first trip to London, I spent a good ten minutes trying to identify various city landmarks from a chart placed on each table. I could feel the warmth of Finn’s eyes on me as he watched me incorrectly identify several buildings.
‘What?’ I said, his gaze like a torch that had the power to set my cheeks on fire.
‘Nothing. It’s just very good to see you again, Ginny Fletcher.’
I smiled, because two and a half years was a long time for no one ever to teasingly call you by the wrong name.
Don’t go back. Stay here in England. With me.Those words were so dangerously close to escaping, I had to reach for my glass of wine to swallow them back down.
Over a shared platter of starters, we skipped lightly from topic to topic. From Finn’s side of the table, we covered the life of an author, Australian creepy crawlies, and surfing; while I contributed with life atGlowmagazine, my delight at becoming godmother to Hannah’s daughter, and my new hobby of Argentine tango dance lessons.
‘Are you any good?’ Finn asked with interest.
‘Terrible. Absolutely appalling. Suffice to say, no one wants to partner me when we get to the bits with the kicks and flicks. Apparently, I’m considered dangerous.’
‘I’d brave it,’ said Finn, his eyes holding my own captive.
My laugh came out a little too high and fragile, because suddenly I wasn’t sure if we were still talking about ganchos and ochos or something entirely different.
‘And do you have one – a regular dance partner, that is?’ Finn’s attention was on my wine glass, which he was now refilling. It prevented me from reading his expression.
‘What exactly are you asking me, Finn?’
He set the bottle down with a smile. ‘I’d forgotten how direct you can be.’ He shook his head as though he’d disappointed himself. ‘I know I have no right to ask this question, but I’m asking it anyway. Is there someone important in your life right now? Are you seeing anyone?’
The time for playing games was over. And I was glad.
‘No. No one. How about you?’
Very slowly, Finn shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be here with you now if I were. That’s not who I am.’
My smile was slow, but it just kept on growing.
Somewhere between the entrée and the dessert, the conversation grew serious when Finn asked about my family and I told him about losing Mum fifteen months earlier. Sometimes I could say it without getting emotional, without the tears coming to my eyes or my voice cracking. This wasn’t one of those days.
‘I’d always thought that by the time people reached their thirties they probably didn’t need their mum so much. But d’you know what, you do. You really do.’ My eyes were stinging, and tears were only a blink away.
‘I’m so sorry, Gemma,’ Finn said, reaching out to me across the table. His fingertips grazed the back of my wrist and my pulse went crazy. I willed it to slow down, because it wasn’t fair that he should know how much he affected me when I still had no idea what we were doing here.
‘How is your father coping alone?’
My sigh was sad. ‘He’s doing a little better now, but it’s been tough.’
A silence fell between us and I saw an opportunity, although the window was closing rapidly with each passing second.
‘You… your parents aren’t around any more?’
Finn stiffened. Every single fibre, muscle and sinew reacted to my question, or rather overreacted to it. My words had such a visceral effect on him, I honestly didn’t expect him to answer me. But he did.
‘No. They’re not. They died in an accident shortly after we came back to live in England.’
‘When you were only ten years old?’ I asked, remembering our conversation from two years ago.
