Page 55 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
Ever since he’d reappeared, I’d been so focused on Alex as a concept: the ex, the client, the harbinger of the curse. I’d forgotten that he was just a guy. One I’d once really cared about. One I knew was a bit broken.
As people shouted, ‘Hip, hip, hooray,’ and one of the grandparents made a brave attempt at ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ I found myself moving through the crowd, following him down the hallway. I caught up with him as he reached the frontgarden and as soon as he saw me his mask slipped back into place.
‘Birthdays are hard.’
‘Always,’ he said. ‘I avoid them.’
‘What did your mum do for your birthdays?’ I asked.
‘She didn’t have a lot of time. Or money,’ he said, still looking a bit dazed. Then he smiled as he remembered. ‘But on my birthday every year, she’d stick candles into a watermelon. It was normally school holidays, so we’d do it on the beach and then we’d swim and get an ice cream.’
I could almost see the warmth of those days wash over him as he let himself bask in the memories.
‘That sounds like an amazing tradition,’ I said softly.
‘I mean, it probably started because the beach was free and she didn’t have time to make a cake,’ he said.
‘Doesn’t matter. She made magic,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘Do you still do it?’ I asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your traditions.’
He broke eye contact. ‘My new tradition is to pretend I don’t have a birthday.’
‘When is it?’ I asked. If he and his mum had spent the day on a beach then surely it was coming up soon, before the summer ended. Once again, I was struck by the strangeness of what I didn’t know – that we’d never known the information about each other you’d need to apply for a passport. We’d just known each other, in all the ways that didn’t have boxes on a form.
‘Last week,’ he said. ‘Last Saturday.’ His expression was now defiant. I worked hard to keep my face neutral, from looking even slightly sympathetic.
It made sense. I’d never bought the idea that he was lonely and was desperately trying to make friends in Melbourne. Alexwas a lone wolf (or owl); he’d always been happy in his own company, in his own thoughts. But on his birthday... I could see why he jumped at Matt’s invitation.
‘Though I mainly went to the tennis with Matt because I wanted to see who you were marrying. And I really did want to say hi to Lily after all these years,’ he said, preempting my questions. ‘But yeah, I guess I didn’t really want to be alone too much on that particular day.’
I remembered that Alex was acerbic, insanely smart, focused and looked like Jamie Dornan (when he wasn’t playing a sociopath). But I’d forgotten he was also human.
‘Happy belated birthday,’ I said. ‘Wait here, okay? Don’t move.’
I ducked to the kitchen and returned to the front garden a minute later holding a paper plate. Alex laughed. On the plate was a slice of watermelon with a half-melted candle in it.
‘Did you steal that from a child?’ Alex asked. The watermelon slice had a single bite taken out of it.
‘It was abandoned. And possession is nine-tenths of the law,’ I said.
‘And you want people to believe you went to law school?’ he replied.
‘Be nice or I’m going to sing at you, and we both know I can’t sing,’ I said. ‘Just pretend to blow out the candle and make a wish.’
He went to take a breath then let it out. He looked up from the watermelon slice.
‘I don’t know if I should makethiswish,’ he said, his aqua eyes almost boring into me.
‘Then make another wish,’ I said firmly.
‘My wish is that I want to be with you,’ he said. ‘I tried to forget that I did. But it’s still what I want.’
