Page 60 of Play Our Song

“Why not?” he grumbled. “They could sing all the time together then, couldn’t they? Isn’t that what married people do?”

“Sing?” asked Tilly, slightly confused.

“No, be together,” Dash said. “Except when they’re at work.” He tilted his head to one side in thought. “Sometimes they do arguments.”

“Discussions,” corrected Ag.

“Right,” agreed Dash.

Tilly pinched the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb and sighed a deep sigh. “I really think it’s time for bed,” she said. “Sophie, can you order some pizza while I get these two upstairs?”

“Glad to,” Sophie said, collapsing down on the couch and pulling out her phone.

HALF AN HOUR later, and the doorbell rang again. Tilly, exhausted by now, jogged down the stairs, paid for the pizza, closed the door, and turned around to find herself face to face with Sophie.

“Jesus, sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine,” said Sophie. “Kids okay?”

“In bed, reading, and about to go to sleep, I think.” Tilly frowned. “I’m really sorry. Maybe this was a bad idea. I had no idea how tiring all of this was going to be.”

“It’s a baptism by fire,” Sophie said, taking the pizza from her. “You know, if we ever think we want kids, we can look back on tonight and make an informed decision.” She’d been walking down the hallway, but she stopped suddenly. “Um…”

“It’s alright,” Tilly laughed. “You didn’t scare me off.”

“I didn’t mean want kids together or anything,” said Sophie. “I just meant individually. Or, you know, together, or whatever, or—”

“Maybe we should start in on that pizza before it gets too cold?” suggested Tilly.

“Right,” Sophie said, carrying the box into the kitchen.

“I’ll get some napkins,” Tilly said, finding a roll of paper towels.

“Do they argue much, Max and Mila?” Sophie said, sitting down at the table and opening the box. “They don’t look like the type.”

Tilly rolled her eyes and sat down. “That’s just Dash talking out of school. I mean, they have had a few discussions while I’ve been here. But I’m not sure I’m the greatest judge of what’s normal and what’s not in that regard.”

“Oh?” Sophie took a slice of pizza.

“Child of divorce,” Tilly explained. “My mum and dad argued like it was a competitive sport. Then, um, then my mum left.”

“You stayed with your dad?”

“It was my choice,” said Tilly.

“I grew up with my dad too,” said Sophie. “My mum died when I was little.”

“I did hear that.” Tilly looked over at Sophie’s calm face. “I’m sorry.”

“I barely remember her,” Sophie said. “I’d like to, but I really don’t. It’s hard to miss someone that you never really knew. I think probably I miss the idea of a mum more than I miss my actual mum.” She grimaced. “That sounds heartless.”

“No, it sounds honest,” Tilly said. “I’m not sure if I miss my mum at all, if I’m going to be honest. My dad and I always got along really well. We’re similar people. He’s in the police, too.”

“Ah,” said Sophie.

“Ah what?”

She shook her head. “I was just thinking, amateur analysis and all that. Missing mums explains a bit, doesn’t it?”

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