It was only after he said the name that he recollected Renee had ended up dating Derek. That was after they had parted ways. He should have chosen someone else to mention.
But Renee said, unembarrassed, “Oh, Derek! Such a sweet guy. We were together for a while after uni, did you know that? It didn’t last, but we stayed friends. He’s married now, to a guy he met when he was doing his MBA in New York.”
“Oh,” said Ket Siong.
Renee darted a glance at him. She’d looked at Ket Siong the same way at the museum, before recognition hit—as though she was trying to unpack something about him.
There was no normal way to say,I’m straight, in case you were wondering. You probably aren’t, but just in case.Maybe he should mention his ex-girlfriend? Would the fact he only had one ex-girlfriend to mention seem suspicious?
“It surprised me, too,” said Renee, before he could try it out. “But they make a cute couple. I follow him on Instagram. How about you? Have you kept in touch with your friends from the Academy?”
Ket Siong shook his head. He’d dropped contact with his university friends upon returning to Malaysia. Everything associated with London—and by extension, Renee—had been too painful.
It was not possible to say this. He said instead, “I’m not on social media.”
Renee nodded sagely. “I remember. You didn’t even have a smartphone. I was so amazed by your old Nokia. You’re not still using that, are you?”
“It died a while ago.” Ket Siong showed her his Motorola phone in its peeling case. “My brother got me this as a replacement. He said it was too inconvenient not having me on WhatsApp.”
“I can imagine.”
That dimple again. Did Renee know how enchanting that look of delight was? She’d always been well aware of her appeal, ready to deploy it as necessary, but Ket Siong thought she wasn’t consciously seeking to charm on this occasion.
She tucked a glossy lock of hair behind her ear and looked up at him, bright-eyed. He had a feeling she didn’t often get the chance to let her guard down.
“I haven’t really kept up with people, either,” said Renee. “The only one I talk to is Nathalie. You remember Nathalie? She was working for Shiseido in Tokyo for a while, she’d ring me up when she was coming to Singapore. I went to her wedding a couple ofyears ago. It was in the most beautiful château in the south of France. Her husband’s a Flemish software engineer and they’ve got a kid. Three years old and he speaks four languages! They’ve only just moved to London.
“She mentioned you the last time we spoke,” Renee added. “We were reminiscing about our youth, talking about men—you know how it is. Nathalie was saying how beautiful you were, back then.”
Renee looked at him, considering. “It’s a good thing she hasn’t seen you now. Jeroen’s started balding, he can be a bit insecure.”
Ket Siong’s cheeks warmed. This, in contrast with the dimple, was a calculated move. If he’d thought twenty-year-old Renee’s attempts at flirtation were charming, she was devastating now.
“I’m honoured,” he said, as lightly as he could. “Nathalie has high standards.”
“Only the best for my girl,” Renee agreed.
He was struck by the unconcern with which she spoke of the past, how easily she sidestepped the disastrous end to their friendship. But Renee had always been good at navigating emotional minefields, shaking off hurt that would weigh down anyone else. It was partly bravado, but that wasn’t all it was. It was pretence, but it was personality, too—a refusal to carry the burdens others placed on her.
“Where did I come in your rankings?” he said, taking his cue from her. “There was a lot of competition, as I recall.” Renee had had a veritable harem of suitors at university.
“My rankings?” Renee looked rueful. “I mean, I liked everything about you. Your looks wouldn’t even have made the top five of things I liked about you.” She gave him an assessing look, a smile flickering over her face. “Top ten, maybe.”
Ket Siong’s heart turned over. He saw Renee’s face when he’d told her he didn’t want to see her anymore, ten years ago. The lips bloodless; the eyes stunned, like a struck child’s. But she’d lifted her chin and smiled, with the gallantry he’d loved in her.
He looked down at his drink, breathing through the memory.
There was no way to respond. The ability to say things like that without killing the conversation dead was peculiar to Renee. She changed the subject, moving on.
The pub was stuffy, the heating turned up too high for the mild night. Ket Siong had taken off his suit jacket and pushed up his shirtsleeves, revealing a distracting expanse of forearm, dusted with fine hairs. His long-fingered hands loosely cradled his beer.
Renee realised he was looking at her, his expression inquiring. She didn’t want to think about what hers must have been. Hopefully her tongue hadn’t actually rolled out of her mouth.
She replayed the last few seconds of the conversation. Ket Siong had asked after her family.
“They’re OK, I guess,” she said.
It was strangely easy, talking to him—in a way, even easier than it had been back when they’d been friends and spoken every day. There were no longer any stakes, nothing to risk or lose.