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I study the table’s surface, as though the lines on its scarred surface make a map of something, perhaps the veins that hold together a human heart. Focusing on how the grooves intersect and never seem to break off from one another, it calms me.
He laces his fingers through mine and brings my knuckles to his lips, his elbows resting on the table surface, both our heads bowed towards one another as if our private conference is the most intimate of all. If any stranger were to walk past now, they’d see two people they would imagine to be lovers. I can feel Miles studying me but I can only stare at the table, my heart beating hard as I think of what I want to say.
“Have you seen him?” he asks.
I nod my head.
“Have you both made peace?”
“Not yet.” I shake my head. “I don’t know if there’s time. He’s highly medicated already.”
I don’t need to tell him the details of how I found out, nor what happened when I got there. Miles understands without me saying that this is not what’s important. How I feel about what’s happening—that’s what is.
“I’ll be here for you, no matter what,” he says tremulously, kissing my knuckles again.
I wipe under my eyes, so very glad I decided to wear waterproof mascara today. “I know.”
He passes me one of his posh silk hankies and I tip my head back, take some deep breaths and gather myself. I drink a bit more wine and inhale deeply. We go back to being hunched over in our private conference, my hand resting on top of his so we’re clutching each other’s wrists.
“How’s your business doing?” I ask.
“Very well,” he says, not boasting, but a little bit more light emanates from his eyes as he speaks. “I should’ve done this a long, long time ago. You showed me the way.”
I can’t help but feel proud. “I heard HypoChrissy went to the wall.”
“As I knew it would. I feel responsible, but maybe that’s why I didn’t leave earlier.”
“Because of all that would be affected by it?”
“Yes,” he agrees, stroking his thumb over the back of my hand. “Which basically frees you from your contract with her.”
“Yes, I realise that.”
He grins. “Oh, you do?”
There’s a sharp intake of breath from him, waiting for me to speak.
“It’s not the right time, Miles.”
He nods sadly. “I agree.”
“You and I…”
“I know,” he whispers.
“I’ve been freelancing,” I sigh, because it hasn’t been the best, I have to admit. “And one of the agencies I’ve been working with has offered me full-time work. It’s good money and hybrid. I figure it’s worth a shot.”
“I wondered when I never heard anything about what it was you were doing… nobody called to ask me for a reference. You never updated your LinkedIn with a new position. Somehow, I thought you were still seeking an appointment.”
I stare blankly. That’s odd, about the reference, anyway; since Aidan told me he had called ahead to speak to Miles Farringdon prior to interviewing me. I’ll store that away. How interesting.
“I just used my old contacts and it kind of snowballed. A good writer can always find work.”
“I knew you’d be fine.”
He still hasn’t let go of my hand and I kind of really love it that Miles is a man who always has to be touching the object of his affection. It endears me no end.
I don’t tell him it’s been harder than he could possibly imagine, working on my own, day by day. Wondering if what I did to Chrissy was wrong. Trying to figure out if this misery I’m constantly beset by was entirely of my own making. And now this, with my father? It’s karma, isn’t it? I can’t help the way I feel. Nothing seems right at the moment. Perhaps when the weather is warmer, I will feel better, but sometimes, I just… feel adrift.
