“What?” he says. “You were very thorough in your retelling.”
Warmth spreads through my chest before I can stop it.
Phil talked about me.
Not just in passing. Not just once.
Enough for his grandfather to remember.
Enough for it to matter.
Phil looks like he’s considering faking his own death.
I tilt my head slightly, watching him, letting myself enjoy this moment just a little.
“I knew you couldn’t stop thinking about me, Bambi.”
His eyes snap to mine.
“Christina—”
Arthur turns sharply toward him. “Bambi?”
I grin.
“He startles easily,” I explain sweetly.
Arthur laughs, delighted. “Bambi. Oh, that’s excellent.”
Phil exhales slowly, resignation settling over him.
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters.
Arthur laughs, the sound rich with satisfaction, like he’s just uncovered something he suspected all along.
“Bambi,” he repeats, clearly delighted. “I wish I’d known that sooner.”
Phil’s face turns a deeper shade of red, the colour spreading from his neck to his ears. He doesn’t look at either of us. Instead, he focuses very intently on the cards still in his hands, like they might offer him an escape route.
I shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I do.
Arthur looks between us, his expression softening beneath the amusement.
“Well?” he says eventually, “are you going to to help the young lady with those flowers?”
“That’s okay,” I say because I’m worried this could push Phil over the edge.
“Nonsenses. I’ve taughtBambito be a gentleman. Tell him what you need,” Arthur winks at me. Phil exhales slowly, like he’s steadying himself because he knows he has lost this battle.
I swap last week's vase with the new flower arrangement. “If you could carry this one for me, that would be fab! I’ve another two in the corridor I need to take back to the van.” I give him a small smile and get ready for him to come up with an excuse.
“Sure,” he says quietly, already rising to his feet.
He takes the vase from the floor, his fingers careful around the glass, and gestures toward the door for me to go first. The movement is small. Automatic. Gentlemanly in a way that feels entirely unconscious.
Arthur watches him go, then looks at me with unmistakable warmth.
“It was lovely tofinallymeet you, Christina.”