Page 78 of The Key to My Heart

I nod, watch him at work, the camera against his face, his lovely pink lips parted, just a little, in concentration. ‘And are you all set? For the exhibition.’

‘I hope so,’ replies Tom. ‘You’re still coming?’

‘Of course,’ I say as, beside me, Tom clicks and clicks again, and silence clouds us. ‘Russ loved the moon,’ I say. ‘He could never resist taking photos of it. And I used to take the piss. Say,It’ll be there tomorrow, you know, and the next day.He wasn’t a photographer, obviously, but his phone was full of them. It was his last WhatsApp photo actually. His little avatar thing …’

Tom smiles gently and brings the camera down away from his face, and leans in close to me. He’s so warm, so near, and I – I don’t want him to move. I like how it feels, having him this close. I feel safe. I always feel safe with him. ‘There you go,’ Tom says, putting the camera between us. Our heads are almost touching. ‘What do we reckon on that?’

‘That’s … it’s beautiful.’

‘It’s hard to believe it’s even real, eh?’ and he edges even closer, our arms touching now. His eyes slide up to meet mine, dropping for just a fraction of a second to my lips. And my heart – why is my heart cha-cha-ing? ‘And thank you by the way, Nat. For earlier.’

‘W-What did I do?’

‘You got me to practise what I preach,’ he says. ‘About how you never stay the same, that you aren’t the same person you were yesterday …’

‘I didn’t do anything. That’syouradvice.’

‘No, I know. But … you made me feel like maybe I don’t need to be scared. That if I can give Dad a chance, that if Dad can change, then maybe I …’ He smiles, as if to himself, ‘I don’t have to be scared of crocodiles.’

And now I want to cry. Because I know what he’s saying. He’s saying he feels he might, after all, feel he can give himself over to love. And sitting here with him, like this, makes me realise how much I care for him. Tom wants to feel less scared to fall in love, less scared to give himself over to trusting someone, to risk being hurt, to risk being the one making mistakes, because I told him to give his dad a chance. Because he thinks his dad has changed. And yet, his dad hasn’t. His dad blew the chance the second I spoke it into the room. And I know when he finds out what his dad is doing, he’ll retreat again. And the world deserves Tom. Someone out there in the world deserves Tom. And Tom deserves the world. God, how can I tell him? How can Ipossiblytell him now?

I shift, just a little away from him on the cold, stone step. ‘I, erm …’ I take a gulp of mock margarita. ‘I better go soon.’

Tom’s dark eyebrows knit together at that. ‘You mean now? It’s not late. You’ve not even finished your drink—’

‘I’ve got loads to do.’

‘Yeah? LSD related? What’s he got, another surprise?’

‘No, no, I’m …’ Another gulp of cocktail. And another.

‘And how was it? The dinner?’

I can barely look at him. I feel like if I do, I’ll tell him, and tonight will forever be known as the nightthatmoment happened. Not the toast he did so perfectly, not the beautiful photo of the moon he took. Not this moment, here, with me. But that. I can’t. I can’t, and I feel like I’m betraying him, every minute I sit here with him, knowing what I know …

‘It was … Fine. It was nice.’

Tom stares at me and I feel like … does he know? Does he know I’m scrabbling around, trying to end the conversation so I can leave because I’mkeepingsomething from him?

‘Are you seriously making me wring the dry towel, Natalie?’ Tom gives a slow smile. ‘I won’t call Buzzfeed. Cross my heart.’

‘No, it’s just …’

Our breath meets in the cold air and mixes into a cloud, and I stare at him. I can’t say it. I can’t tell him. How could I? No. I need to go home. I need to follow what Carl said. Now is not the time.

‘We … we kissed.’ Oh.God.Where did that even come from? Why did I just say that? To Tom? Is it because I can’t admit I know about Don and Beehive woman, I’m – what? Confessing to something else? Something I’m ashamed of, too embarrassed to say out loud…

Tom’s lips part then, and he retracts back, just a little, like someone trying to avoid a ball, flying through the air in their direction.

‘W-wow. Blimey,’ he says. ‘So, you kissed. You and – you and Joe.’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t like that at all, actually, it was—’

‘I’m happy for you, Nat.’ Tom gives a soft, half smile. ‘Seriously. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather see happy. And I mean that.’

And at those words, my eyes fill with tears.

‘I didn’t feel anything,’ I blurt. ‘Nothing.’

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