Page 52 of Love at First Sight

‘Have I?’

‘You okay?’ he asks.

I sigh. It comes out contented, happy even.

‘Yeah,’ I decide. ‘I feel … peaceful.’

‘Amazing what salty carbs and booze can do for a person,’ Cal says, grinning.

‘Shame about the company,’ I shoot back, and we both know what I mean is the opposite.

‘Yeah,’ Cal agrees. ‘It’s terrible.’

‘Awful.’

‘I’m having a dreadful time.’

‘Diabolical,’ I say, and then we stop talking, and just look at one another. Cal’s eyes drift down to my lips, and I don’t mean to but my own gaze flicks to his mouth. I can feel the shallowness of my breath, the fast rise and fall of my chest, and it’s there, something is there, if only one of us is stupid enough to make a move.

‘I should head off,’ Cal says, and I don’t know if that’sto his credit or his detriment. I clear my throat and shift away from him.

‘Same,’ I say. We’ve been here way longer than forty-five minutes, though Cal has been gentleman enough not to point that out.

He stands up to gather up our rubbish and leaps in one graceful movement to stuff it in the bin. I try not to watch him by busying myself with looking at my phone instead, although I can’t really focus on what’s on the screen.

‘I’ll see you for the road trip tomorrow, then,’ he says, slipping on his sunglasses from the top of his head even though it’s dusk and he doesn’t need them. I understand the instinct to hide.

‘See you tomorrow,’ I echo, and because he heads off in the direction I need to go too, I take myself on a walk around the park to give him some space, the whole while thinking:You stupid, stupid girl.

20

What colour were you thinking for Stray Kids HQ?texts Leo the next morning.I recommend this brand – take a look and let me know, gorgeous.

I read the text through tears, because I miss my dad and I’m sobbing about it. It started in the shower. My mind just … wandered to him. I want him to see what’s happening with Stray Kids, and I want him to tell me he’s proud of me. Shouldn’t that be the right of every daughter, to have a dad who will do that? I miss him so much. And I can’t believe he’d disinvite me to his wedding, that this whole thing would get this far. It’s ludicrous. I don’t think I was even this upset after Mum left. She’d been distant for most of my life anyway, I have very few happy memories with her. Looking back, I think she probably had depression, and so by the time she left us it was a relief because after that Dad and I could be happy. There was laughter in the house; we didn’t have to tiptoe around anyone. I’ve always loved him, but I think I realised just how much Ilikedhim during those first years when it was just the two of us. I was eighteen, but chose to hang out with him over my new uni mates because he was fun, and silly. Even duringthe tumour years, at his worst, we always found things to giggle at – the levity in any situation.

I want to sit him down and tell him all this, but honestly, I think the reason I’m so upset is that I really don’t think he’d hear it. I think I’d put my heart on the line to be rejected once and for all, and I don’t think I could bear that. Bynotreaching out, I’m saving myself. Bynotcalling or texting, I can make-believe we’ll come back from this. If he tells me what he thinks of me to my face, I think my heart would be broken forever. For now, it’s cracked. Plenty of things can keep functioning with a little crack in them, but few will still work if they’re torn in two.

It’s a busy day, taking Henry to school and then giving India an hour of my time over coffee at Ali’s house for updates on social media posts and more newsletter lists. I let Leo know I like the ‘French Blue’ shade of paint from the selection he sent me. I haven’t heard from the council about the Health and Safety sign-off, but Cal was so optimistic we decide to push ahead as if it’s already been given the final thumbs up. I bite the bullet and set the launch date as two weeks from now.

When India has gone, I spend a disproportionate amount of time preparing snacks for the journey to see Ali, on account of having talked up my car picnic skills. I’ve buried thoughts of my dad in the recesses of my mind, because thinking about it any more will serve no one. Instead I head out and get some mini quiches from the expensivebakery on the green, and cut them into squares so they’re easier for Cal to pick up and eat when he’s driving. I get Sports Mix and Dolly Mixture from the newsagent’s – the two best sweets out there – and some Haribo, too, for Henry. Obviously there are salt and vinegar Hula Hoops, and the requisite Fruit Shoots.

‘You don’t pack light, do you?’ Cal says, observing my bag of junk food treasures when he comes to collect us. ‘Whoa! Sports Mix?’ He’s already rifling through everything. ‘And why have you put our names on the crisps but nothing else?’

I look down at Henry, who has his shoes and backpack on, ready to go.

‘So we know whose is whose,’ he says. ‘And you can eat the one that doesn’t belong to you.’

Cal squints, trying to get the logic. ‘My dude,’ he says. ‘Do you mean so you can eat the one thatdoeshave your name on it?’

‘No,’ Henry says. ‘Me and Jessie did an experiment. Hula Hoops taste better when they belong to somebody else. It’s science.’

Cal nods. ‘And who am I to argue with science?’ he says, and I laugh at the way he is so obviously not convinced.What if this was my life, with Cal and a kid and a car adventure to be embarked upon?

No. Bad thought. I can’t have thoughts like that.

I set up Henry’s booster seat as Cal loads the boot, and then I make sure Henry has been for a wee.

‘Do I need to ask you if you’ve peed too?’ I ask Cal.

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