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When Leia wakes around midnight, I change her, then go into the kitchen to make her a bottle. I’ve just finished warming it through when a voice says, “Hey.”
I jump—I hadn’t seen James sitting in the living room, in the semi-darkness.
“Oh, hello.” My heart racing, I walk toward him, carrying Leia and the bottle. “You’re back.” I frown. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Just thinking.”
Leia grizzles, so I lower into one of the armchairs and start to feed her. “About Maddie?”
He inhales, then lets it out slowly and looks away, out at the garden, not replying. His feet are bare, crossed at the ankles and resting on the coffee table. I think he takes his socks and shoes off every time as soon as he enters the house. He has smooth, tanned feet. I’ve never been attracted to a guy’s feet before.
He’s holding a whisky glass in his right hand. He looks back at me and lifts it. “I’m only having the one.”
“I wasn’t judging you, James.”
“Some people would.” His father, no doubt.
“Not me,” I say softly. “It’s none of my business.” I tip my head to the side. “Are you feeling sad?”
“You’re not afraid of emotion, are you?”
“No.”
“I envy you.” Frown lines seem etched into his face. He’s grieving, but he’s scared of giving into it, because his father has told him that he always needs to be in control.
I feed Leia for a while. James sips from his glass, watching us, but not speaking. The only sounds are the occasional slurp when Leia sucks on the teat, and the rattle of ice in his glass when he lifts it. I would have thought I’d feel uncomfortable with such a prolonged period of silence, but I don’t, and I don’t think he does either. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, though. Or maybe he’s watching Leia; I can’t tell.
When the bottle’s empty, I lift her onto my shoulder and pat her back gently. “What’s your favorite memory of Maddie?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are. You’re trying to get me to open up.”
I don’t reply. I concentrate on Leia, straightening her onesie.
“Most of my memories of Maddie are difficult ones,” he says eventually, surprising me. “She wasn’t an easy person to be with.” He lets out a long sigh and brushes his hand over his face. “And now I feel like a heel.”
“Death doesn’t make someone into a saint. We all have our faults, and it’s okay to remember them. But tell me a nice memory. Something she said that made you laugh.”
He looks up at the ceiling. He’s quiet for a while. I think he’s suffering. Maybe it’s only just sinking in that she’s gone.
Eventually, he says, “One evening, when we were sixteen, we went to a friend’s birthday party. When we got home, Maddie told Mum that she’d seen me snogging a girl. Mum said, ‘What’s her name?’ I couldn’t remember—I said she and her sister were named after birds, and Maddie said, ‘Tits,’ and I said, ‘Probably a B cup,’ and Mum told me off.”
I giggle, and his lips curve up. He meets my gaze. “I can’t believe she’s not here anymore,” he whispers, his smile fading. His beautiful turquoise eyes turn glassy. His jaw knots as he clenches his teeth hard, refusing to let his emotions show while I’m there.
I get to my feet and, carrying Leia, go over and kiss the top of his head. Then I take her back to bed, leaving him to his grief.
*
The next day, I check my bank account while I’m having breakfast and discover it’s over ten thousand dollars in credit.
I nearly fall off my chair. “Holy shit.”
He looks up from where he’s eating cereal across the breakfast bar from me. “What?”
“You’ve paid me ten thousand dollars?”
