Page 19 of The Truth About Love

Fuck, I’m such an idiot.

“So, that’s what all this is about, huh?” She smiles coyly. “Giving me lessons in love is just a play at getting laid?”

I blanch. “What? No. Th-That’s not even on my mind.”

She raises a brow in challenge.

“But I’ll admit that maybe I had ulterior motives bringing you on this date tonight. I do actually have something to show you, but I was hoping that if you had a good time tonight that I could take you out next week. But right now, we’re just a girl and a guy having dinner together for the first time. That’s all. No pressure, no expectations.”

I heave in a deep breath, relief coursing through me when I see that she’s not looking as if she’s about to make a run for it. In fact, she doesn’t look scared at all.

“Okay,” she breathes. “What am I looking for?”

I motion my head to a table by a window that overlooks the ocean. In the centre, a tiny vase with a single beach sunflower sits beside a flickering candle. On one side of the table, in the seat with the least beautiful view, Captain Arthur Harris sips at a glass of red wine and gives his undivided attention to the empty chair opposite him.

Despite there being only one person dining, the table is made up for two. There are even two glasses of wine, one still full, the other half-drunk.

Summer-Raine looks at me in confusion.

“That’s Captain Harris,” I tell her. “But we mostly just call him Cap. He’s a war vet. Comes in every Saturday night, sits at the same table and eats the same meal. The lovebird’s seafood sharer. It’s supposed to be shared between two people, but only ever eats half.”

“Then why does he order it?” She asks without judgement, looking at the elderly gentleman with softness in her eyes.

She already suspects the answer, but I tell her anyway. “He used to come in with his wife every week and that’s what they always had. She died two years ago.”

“And he keeps coming? Every week?”

“Yeah.”

“And he pours a glass of wine for her?”

I nod.

“Does he talk to her?”

“Sometimes.”

She’s silent for a moment, eyes locked on the empty chair where Mrs Harris used to sit to eat dinner with her husband of fifty-plus years.

“But… why?” Summer-Raine’s voice is little more than a breath whispered into the air between us. “Doesn’t it just make him sadder and remind him that she’s not here anymore?”

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “I think it makes him feel close to her. Like if he keeps doing the same things they always did together, then she’ll always know where he is.”

The sight of tears welling in Summer-Raine’s eyes hits me like a thunderbolt. She blinks them away quickly, casting her eyes downwards to hide them, but I see them anyway.

I see her.

I don’t believe for a second that she doesn’t think love exists. She wouldn’t look at Cap like her heart was breaking for him if she didn’t. I think she’s too scared to admit to herself that love is real because it’s easy to protect yourself from something that you don’t believe in.

“That’s love,” I say gently, hesitantly reaching across the table to rub my thumb across her wrist. “A love like theirs can outlive even death.”

Green eyes meet mine, sparkling in the soft light. “So, is that the truth about love? That it lives even longer than the hearts who are touched by it?”

“Maybe. Would you be mad if I told you that I don’t know what true love is either? Not personally, anyway.”

“You mean to say that I’m being taught about love from a man who has never experienced it himself?”

I smile shyly.

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