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“He, um… died in a car accident last year.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Everyone’s sorry, but I don’t need their pity.”
If people knew the truth, they wouldn’t be offering their condolences.
“Trust me, you don’t have my pity. If he were around, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now, would I?”
Though he’s certainly bold, I find it doesn’t anger me. I’m bloody blushing.
“I suppose not, no. What about you? Do you have any children?”
“No,” he huffs.
The expression on his face makes me laugh. “You don’t have to be so offended. Having a child isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
His eyes widen, and my smile slips away. Did I really offend him?
“What?” I ask.
“Your laugh. It lights up your face.”
“It does?”
He nods, and I suddenly feel all kinds of awkward.
Hiding behind my glass of wine, I take a sip, trying not to choke on my nerves as I swallow.
Sitting my glass down, I find myself blurting out, “Aren’t you going to ask me how I know your sister?”
“I already know,” he admits. “I just guessed if you wanted to talk about it, you would. It’s not my business, and I don’t intend to pry.”
Of course he knows. I was expecting Lexi to have told him, but I guess I’m curious as to why he hasn’t mentioned it.
“Then you already know what I was in for?”
“Again, it’s not my business. But yeah, Lexi filled me in.”
“And you don’t care?”
“Darlin’, I have no room to judge a single soul on this earth. I’m sure you had your reasons.”
“And that’s enough for you?”
“Sure is.”
Where did this guy come from? I was caught stealing a bag of frozen sausages and a tin of baked beans. I knew it was wrong, but I wasn’t due my money for another two days, and we had run out of food. Desperate times call for desperate measures. It was humiliating getting caught, but I never thought I’d end up in court, and then in prison over it. My solicitor was adamant I’d get a fine and be able to go home until he saw who the judge was.
“I don’t know your story, but I’d like to get to know you. Whatever you want to share, I’m good with.”
I go to take another sip of my wine, only to drain half my glass before asking, “I take it you don’t have a girlfriend?”
Oh God, why on earth did I ask that? Surely he wouldn’t have brought me to a pub if he had.
“No. No girlfriend.”
I take another drink, praying he asks the next question. It’ll be much easier for me to bounce back in the conversation if I’m just answering his questions instead of asking them. Then again, I don’t want him to think I’m weird. Christ, what is wrong with me?
