Page 81 of Midnight in Paris

He looked at her. ‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. Sorry. I’m not quite sure why I lied,’ she said, ironically lying again. Because shedidknow why, really.

‘It’s OK.’

‘Oh, shit,’ she said, walking into the kitchen to stand near him. ‘Sorry. I do know.’

‘It’s OK,’ he repeated, smiling as the kettle shuddered to a boil. ‘I’m not your boss. You don’t owe me an explanation.’

‘Thank you. Did you still go?’

He nodded. ‘Bloody shoulder’s killing me. I think I’m used to the extra help now.’

‘Whoops. Sorry.’

‘You and your sorrys,’ he said.

A memory flickered.Tom. She nodded rather than let herself reply.

Minutes later, he handed her a cup as she sat on the sofa, and he sank into the chair opposite. ‘Could probably do with a rest from it myself,’ he admitted. ‘It’s just that I feel like if I miss it, I might never go back. So easy to get out of a routine.’

She blew the steam from the top of her mug. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

They were silent again, sipping their coffee. Will tore the edge from a Chelsea bun and popped it into his mouth.

‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’ she found herself saying.

He looked up, surprised. ‘Well, yeah,’ he said. ‘I’d say so. Why?’

‘No reason.’

He gave her a strange look but kept on chewing, washing down the last of the mouthful with a slug of coffee. ‘Do you want me to go?’ he asked. ‘You seem…’

‘Sorry. I mean… I know,’ she corrected herself. Then, ‘No. Don’t go. Have your coffee. It’s me, not you. I’m just a bit…’

He smiled weakly and took another sip. ‘OK,’ he said, clearly a bit bemused.

‘It’s just… Do you ever worry that you might be forgetting him?’

‘Tom?’ He shook his head. ‘No. Not really.’

‘Maybe forgetting’s not the right word. It’s just… the rowing. When I’m doing it, when I’m with you, things don’t seem quite so bad. Not quite so raw. And sometimes, just for a bit, I forget to think about him, you know?’

He smiled softly, sympathetically. ‘But isn’t that a good thing?’ he asked. ‘I mean, it’s natural to move on… well, a bit at least. And it’s great that you’re able to give yourself a break from it.’

The tears came then, surprising them both. ‘I’m just scared I’m going to forget him, Will,’ she said. ‘He’s been gone almost two years and I’m already…’

He was next to her then, arm around her back. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Come on, Sophie. You’re never going to forget Tom. He was your first love, you married him. Looked after him. He was a huge part of your life.’

She nodded, knowing his words made sense but unable to completely absorb them. Then, ‘First love?’ she said.

‘Yeah. I mean he was, wasn’t he?’

She shrugged. ‘There wasn’t really anyone before him.’

‘Well then.’

‘But I always thought of him as the love of my life, you know. “First love” makes him seem…’

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