Page 28 of Never Too Late
‘I know. They’re grown-ups but they’re still our babies.’
‘She doesn’t like that I’m seeing Tania, does she?’
‘It’s not that she doesn’t like it. It was a bit of a shock, I think, and her being so close in age… she’ll come around.’
He blew out a long puff of air. ‘Between you and me, she might not need to.’
‘Don’t make any hasty decisions. Talk it over with Tania and see where you are.’
‘Hmm. Yes, you’re right.’ He looked up from where he was making chess moves with the condiments. ‘Never thought I’d be getting dating advice from my wife.’
‘Ex-wife.’
‘Yes. Of course. You know what I mean.’ He made another move. From what I could see, the mustard had just taken the salt. Hugh had always done this. It was one of his little quirks. At times, it had irritated me but eventually, I’d realised that he only did it when he was turning something over in his head. God knew we were both negotiating uncharted waters right now. All we could do was take it one day at a time. At least that’s what I’d decided after my panic last night when I’d nearly backed out of the whole thing.
‘What is it, Hugh?’
‘What?’ He looked up.
‘You’re playing Condiment Chess which means there’s something on your mind.’
‘Oh. Oh, yes. Sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Drives Tania mad.’
‘She’ll get used to it. I did.’
He gave me a look that suggested he wasn’t so sure.
‘So what is it? Spit it out.’
‘This Paris thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘Is it… are you going back to him?’
‘Who?’
‘Tom.’
My newly shaped and tinted eyebrows raised. Sash had, as tactfully as possible, advised that I couldn’t launch a new life in Paris with unruly brows. They weren’t actually that bad, I thought, but apparently bad enough and the next day, I’d been booked in for the full works and consequently both my brows and lashes were now dyed, shaped, waxed, and therefore perfect for emphasising the surprised expression Hugh’s question elicited.
‘You mean Tomas?’
‘I suppose so.’ He gave a wiggle of his head, and a slight roll of his eyes. ‘If you want to be fancy.’
I couldn’t help but laugh. My usually eminently sensible ex had momentarily turned back into the twenty-something I’d got together with all those years ago.
‘What?’
‘You. Calling him Tom and acting all sullen.’
‘I’m not.’
Just the one brow this time.
