Page 84 of Begin Again Again

“Are you referring to the thing where I said the guy who called me a six smelled like onions?”

“One of many examples. I think you also said men are constantly giving unqualified cunt opinions like they should be carved in stone.”

“Hey, am I wrong?”

He smiled and Beth smiled back. “He really did smell like onions. And his opinion really was unqualified.”

“I bet.”

Beth studied him. “You’re not offended I said men give unqualified opinions, are you?”

A flash of perfect white teeth. “If I was offended, I’d be saying me and a guy who called you a six had something in common.”

“Six face,” she corrected. “He said I had a ten body.”

“Generous of him.” He looked her over before returning his gaze to the road. “Ten everything.”

Baby Bulldog came over the speakers, singing how she really, really liked you. Beth felt warm from top to toe. Byron listened to her podcast. Byron thought she was a ten. They zoomed along the M1 and a new fantasy came to mind. She saw herself creeping through a flower strewn garden to a wooden bungalow. She unlocked the door, tugged off her coat and found Byron dozing on the couch, shirtless. He looked up, heavy-lidded and beautiful. “How was your night?”

“Good,” she said, climbing into his arms. “I missed you.”

She imagined a driftwood cot and a redheaded baby. A quiet life, where everyone said what they meant. A strange life, with no wedding rings and no big house but where the ocean rushed in and out beside her bedroom window. The imaginary wedding had been a power fantasy. This was… something else. It stung in all the right ways. And Beth realised she had feelings, real feelings, for him.

Duh, Lara might have said, but Beth had never considered Byron a possible partner. She’d wanted to see more of him, but she also assumed they’d say goodbye sooner or later. Now she was faced with dual possibilities—they might become a couple, or he might vanish forever, taking far more than she’d intended to give him. She considered the realistic, boots on the ground, idea that she and Byron could be together. It slid off her brain like a fried egg. He was too young, too hot, too flaky. Whatever they had, it probably wasn’t long for this world. When would it be over? This week? Next month? Whenever it was, it would suck. No more secret smiles or texts that spiked her blood. But there would be benefits—more sleep, better focus. No more stress that she couldn’t figure Byron out or bridge the many gaps she could see stretched between them. That was the good thing about working on yourself, Beth thought. Eventually you understood that one way or another, you’d be fine.

The car jolted and Beth grabbed the door handle again.

“Sorry,” Byron said, braking. “Accident up ahead.”

Beth looked up and saw flashing lights—cop cars and ambulances around a smashed-up Holden Commodore. She drew in a breath, let it out slowly. “Sorry. Like I said, I have a thing about driving.”

“It’s no issue. You can tell me about it if you want.”

Beth licked her lips. “I got into an accident with my ex a while ago. I’ve been twitchy in cars ever since. Unless I’m driving.”

He raised a brow. “Do you want to drive?”

“You’d let me drive your car?”

“Sure.”

Beth felt a rush of affection toward him. “I’m okay. But thanks. Guys are usually weird about letting you drive their cars.”

“I mean, if you ding anything, you’ll have to cover it.”

“That’s for the insurance companies to figure out.”

“Anyway.” Byron’s brow creased. “What happened with the ex?”

Beth grimaced. “You want the ugly truth?”

“Of course.”

“We were one of Those Couples. Always bickering over whose turn it was to drive home from stuff. We used to write our turns on the notes app on my phone… What?”

Byron shook his head.

“Go on. Say it.”

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