Nathan leans forward, disturbing his feline friend, who meows in a huffy way before jumping off his body and stalking out of the room. Her attitude back to being supremely annoyed.
“Katie, I am so sorry to hear that.” He reaches a hand forward like he wants to touch me, but I’m too far away. And too tightly wound for any sort of that stuff. Human compassion and the like. “I remember your mum. This is devastating news.”
I exhale quietly, taking in his expression. He looks so disturbed by what I’ve shared with him; it’s like I’ve pulled the rug from underneath him. Like knowing my mum is no longer on this Earth has shaken him as well.
“You remember her?” This is like a balm for my soul. “Really?”
His lips curl down into a sad smile. “Yeah, of course. She was beautiful; you look so much like her. All the boys at Kensington were aware of her.”
I tuck the offhanded compliment away to examine later, too focused on what he is saying about my mum. It’s one of the most brutal parts of losing her. I have no one to talk to who knew her. When I was growing up, it was always just the two of us. Mum was an only child to parents who died when she was in her early twenties, and I was an only child with a dad who left before I turned one. We had only each other. And so, when she died, there was only me.
“You did?” I lean forward, eager to hear more. “You guys spoke about her?”
His eyes sweep over me and soften. “Oh yeah. She was one of those present parents. The one who came to all the school sports, even though you were useless and contributed nothing.”
I throw a cushion at him and, with a flick of my hands, urge him to continue.
“She seemed so cool, you know? Remembering everyone’s name. She had an energy that drew people to her. And she was hot, which, as a teenage boy, was a big draw card for my attention.”
He’s so spot-on with his recollection of who she was, my heart sings. She was a light in a dark room. She made people feel important and special. And he’s right, she was beautiful. Too beautiful for this Earth, it seemed.
“Thank you, Nathan.” I swallow down my tears, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. It’s the only way to snap out of my grief spiral. “I love hearing you remember her.”
We sink into a heavy silence as I gather my emotions and shove them into a box. This is an unexpected gift I’ve been given: talking to someone who remembered who she was before she got sick and tired and scared. Before she was just a memory.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Katie.”
His words, though said in a hushed voice, are like sandpaper over a newly heeled cut. If I don’t get him out of here, I’m going to dissolve into a puddle of tears in front of him. A puddle that will grow into a lake as the night goes on.
“Well, yes.” I clear my throat. “That’s enough catching up for one night. I’ve probably taken up too much of your time.”
He holds my gaze, weighing my words and what must be written on my face, before he rises slowly to his feet.
“Ah, okay. I’d better get going.”
I follow him to the door, absolutely not checking him out from behind, realising at some point he’d shed his peacoat and was sitting in front of me this whole time in a grey woollen jumper that made him look like a snack. This entire night has been surreal.
We stop at the front door, Nathan shoving his long arms into his jacket, ramping up his level of attractiveness by a hundred points. “It was really nice running into you tonight, Katie.” He sounds so sincere that I can’t help but smile up at him. Even after all the fame and success, Nathan is still a genuine guy.
“Yeah, you too,” I reply, opening the door.
He steps backwards over the threshold, hesitating, his eyes lingering on me. “You should give me your number.”
I swallow my tongue. Not literally, but it sure feels like it. “What—?”
He smirks. “In case I’m ever in the area again, so we can catch up.” I stare at him with doubt splashed over my face. “Or,” he continues, “in case you ever want F1 tickets.”
Huh.I’d never even thought to ask him that, though I don’t hate the offer. “Fine.” I rattle off my mobile number with zero expectation that he’ll ever use it.
“Got you saved in here, Kitty Kat.” He waves his phone in front of me. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
I highly doubt it.
“Sure, great. Have a merry Christmas.” I push him away, soaking in his deep chuckle. He seems so amused by me, and I’m not sure if he’s laughing with me or at me. Though given I’m not laughing, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
Maybe it’s my hair?
“You too, Kitty Kat.”