Page 16 of Never Too Late
‘I’ll think about it.’
His smile returned, but there was a tinge of sadness behind it. I knew he doubted that I would follow his advice, and he was probably right.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m glad this…’ I made a motion with my hand, flapping gently between us.
Without further explanation, he knew. ‘I agree. It would be wonderful to meet someone but it’s not the right time for you. Not in a romantic sense. But I think it was the perfect time for us both to meet a wonderful friend whom I’m hoping will be lifelong.’
‘And now I’m crying,’ I said, wrapping my arms around him, and feeling his own tighten around me.
‘Happy tears,’ he spoke softly. ‘That’s all I ever wish you to cry.’
I gave him a whack. ‘Stop being so bloody nice!’
The rumble of laughter in his chest made me smile. It felt like I’d smiled and laughed more in the last two weeks than I had in years. Ashok and his friendship had been an unexpected and wonderful part of that.
I pulled back. ‘I’ll message you when we’re home.’
‘Please.’
‘And let me know next time you’re coming to London.’
‘Unless you’re in Paris.’
Smiling, I shook my head, looking up at him. ‘Unless I’m in Paris.’
He leant in, kissed my cheek. ‘Now go and find your bloody plane before it takes off without you.’
I gave him another quick squeeze then grabbed the handle of the bright-pink suitcase Sasha had bought me as a present for this trip and headed in the same direction as Sasha had gone, waving one last time before the doors closed.
10
‘Paris? Really?’ Sasha sat heavily on the sofa in the flat I rented at the end of the Jubilee line when we sold the family home in Surrey. This way, I was within easy reach of Sasha and also of the museums in London.
‘It’s just a thought at the moment.’
‘But obviously one you’re taking seriously.’
I gave a sort of shrug and sat down next to her. ‘Maybe.’
‘Wow. I mean… if that’s what you want, then, of course. I just… from what you’ve said…’ She rubbed her temple with her ring finger like she always did when she was figuring something out. ‘Whenever I asked about it, you’ve never said a lot. But you’ve also never shown any interest in going back to visit. Like ever.’
‘I know. And you’re right. I didn’t think I would.’
‘Mum?’
‘Yes?’
‘You didn’t just get homesick, did you? In Paris, I mean.’ She straightened and looked at me, my own special mix of blue with hazel reflected back in hers. ‘I’ve never really pushed it because, honestly, it’s always felt like you didn’t want to talk about it, but from the bits you have said, the photos I’ve seen, it looked like you were living the dream and absolutely loving it.’
I took her hand. ‘I was. And I’m sorry you never felt that you could ask more. I should have told you a long time ago.’
Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes opening wide in a mixture of panic and shock. ‘OhmyGod! Is Dad not my dad?’
‘Yes!’
Her eyes widened even more.
‘I mean, no!’
