Page 49 of Replay
“Okay.” She frowns up at me curiously.
I pull my mobile out of my pocket. “I found this app that tells you where the best street art is featured near us.”
Tilly’s head jerks back in shock. “You what?”
“I remember you always used to take photos of graffiti so I thought we could do our own little walking tour—”
“How on earth did you know I took photos?” she asks, looking a bit shaken.
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. There were times in the past when we’d be walking to my place or yours after being out, and we’d have to stop so you could do your thing.”
“And you remember that?” She stares at me with an expression I can’t quite place. It’s either irritation or confusion, and there’s a great deal of grey area between the two, so fuck knows what she’s really thinking.
I nod. “I remember loads of things. But look, if you’re not into that anymore, we can do something else. I mean, it’s summertime in London, so…the options are endless.” I glance down at my mobile to do a quick search.
“No,” she says a bit forcibly as her hands close over mine. “I’d actually really love to do that.”
The corner of my mouth lifts into a smile. “Okay then. Let’s get a move on, Trouble.”
The tour is perfect. It’s an easy walk, allowing us lots of time to talk and reconnect. She tells me about signing the paperwork for her new Harrods job that won’t begin for at least another month. I can tell she’s excited about it because her voice rises up to a higher pitch whenever she mentions it. I complain about work because it’s been a pig of a start to the new season. Last-minute contract changes are never an issue, and I feel responsible for not getting Zander squared away for Vaughn because I can tell he’s eager to get him on the pitch. It feels nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff, even if Tilly doesn’t fully understand my job. I’ve talked about work with the women I’ve dated, but most just nod and smile and seem bored. Tilly offers up challenging questions for me to look at my issues from different angles. It’s refreshing.
And the artwork we’re finding is interesting to say the least. Displays ranging from giant, multilevel murals to tiny little phone box scrawls that I wouldn’t really classify as art, but Tilly seems enraptured by all of them, big and small. She takes several photos from different angles, inspecting the images for clarity before allowing us to move on to the next stop. Her blue eyes are wide and excited as she takes in the sights on this perfect summer night.
Tilly is the most striking art I’ve witnessed tonight. Her strawberry locks are glowing in the setting sun as she talks a mile a minute about past photos she’s taken. She tells me how she used to send copies to her grandmother when she was still alive because she loved street art, but her grandfather, Fergus, hated them. He said they were criminals and nothing more, yet she kept sending them to him after her grandmother died, and he hung every photo up on the fridge…albeit begrudgingly. She said while Fergus and Mac talked football, she and Fergus argued over what constituted art. She’s completely in the moment with me tonight, and it’s stunning to watch.
Since she’s come back, I’ve noticed that she’s often in her own head thinking a thousand different thoughts that she isn’t sharing with the world. However, I’ve witnessed her truly letting go a few times to the point that her smile lights up her eyes. I saw it on the pitch at Tower Park, cooking with my nonna…and right now.
I’m sensing a theme.
“Where do Mac and Freya think you are tonight?” I ask as we begin walking to the pizza place I suggested for dinner.
“Catching up with an old friend.” Tilly glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “Although Freya knows the truth.”
I eye her curiously. “She does?”
Tilly shrugs. “It just…came out. I’ve really adapted nicely to the concept of a sister. She’s loads easier to talk to than Mac.”
“I see,” I reply, feeling pleased that she’s talking about me. “And you don’t think she’ll tell her husband?”
“She said it’s my news to tell, not hers.”
“Are we news?” I lace my fingers with hers and give it a hearty squeeze.
“I think it remains to be seen if we turn into official news, don’t you?” She glances at me with an adorably pensive look.
“I’d say things are off to a very good start.” I lift her hand and twirl her, not missing a step on our walk.
Tilly laughs. “You seem so secure in everything. I’m just not there yet. I think you and I have to get to know each other again. I mean…with our previous rules and all of that, this really is all new to us.”
This remark makes my brows furrow. “We’ve spent hours on the phone over the past couple of days. You don’t feel like that’s us getting to know each other?”
“I do. I just…feel like I have to get used to the new you. If you would have told me five years ago you make sauce with your nonna, I would have been like…mind blown.” She punctuates the comment with the hand gesture.
“Ouch.” I stare forward, trying to ignore the hit to my apparent fragile ego.
“Sorry,” she wraps her free hand around my arm. “There’s no way you had a great past impression of me either.”
I huff out a dry laugh. “I do actually.”
