Page 91 of The Home Grown
“Yeah, but … I just don’t want to lock you into something. That’s not fair. I get that now.”
Maybe he’s right.
“Okay, how about this—we get a drink? Back to Plan ‘A’, yeah?”
“Of course,” he says, holding out his hand.
I slip my palm into his and we make our way towards the exit, joining the stream of people moving towards the street.
“So, why the clock?” I ask Mike as we head outside.
“Imagine when our kids ask us how we met. We can tell them about the clock and how romantic it was because when you think about it—it all comes down to time. Right place, right time.”
I roll my eyes with a smile. “But we didn’t actually meet for the first time under that clock. We met in Maths. Year seven, Mrs Jones’ room.”
Mike adjusts himself to look at me, eyebrows pulled together. “Nah, it wasn’t then,” he says. “It was before Maths. It was in registration. I remember thinking you were the most beautiful girl in the world.”
A grin cements itself on my face.
“Regardless, it wasn’t—wait … our kids?”
He chuckles. A deep rumble that warms my whole body.
“Don’t you want kids?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
“This is … deep,” I say, unsure of myself.
“It’s just a general question,” he says. “Sorry I was?—”
“I’m—I’m not sure. I guess I haven’t really thought about it,” I say. “I hate the idea of having a favourite child if I were to have more than one. Because I think every parent has a favourite, even if they don’t admit it.”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” he says. “I’m definitely my mam’s favourite. My dad … not so much.”
“What make’s you say that?”
“Just a feeling I get, I guess,” he shrugs, but his eyes stick to mine, bright and full of wonder. “But there’s no way you aren’t your folks’ favourite. I mean … you or Kathryn.” He frees his hand and aligns it with the other, suspending them in the air, palms upward. He moves them up and down, sizing us up—apparently.
The Ellie hand wins.
“Well, favourite or not … I’m definitely not Kathryn’s favourite sister. Something happened yesterday and I, uh…”
He takes my hand again, planting a kiss on the back.
“Wanna tell me about it? I mean, you don’t have to, but I’m here if you want to vent or whatever. I’ll warn you though … I’ll probably offer suggestions on how you should fix it.”
I let out a deflated laugh. “I think you’ve already done the fixing. Even though it wasn’t really yourthingto fix.”
And as we walk, hand in hand, down the street, I tell Mike all about Kathryn and the phone call he made when we were eighteen.
BETTSY
“What do you mean,it was her?” I say, as Ellie concludes her story.
I was busy revelling in the fact that Kathryn initially assumed ownership of Ellie’s flowers but this … I halt on the pavement, and Ellie, a couple of paces ahead of me, stumbles to a stop when our hands disconnect.
“I—”
But I don’t think. I spin around, intending to stalk back towards the railway station, even going as far as taking several steps along the pavement before Ellie slips in front of me, blocking my progress.
