‘Maybe a distant relative,’ Cam says, and Florence nods again.
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘Anyway,’ Cam singsongs, raising his glass of wine in a toast. ‘Here’s to being back in Whitby.’
Bram slides me a beer seamlessly and I take it with a smile, before raising my glass with the others and trying my best not to spend every last moment staring at Florence.
* * *
It’s almost kicking-out time before we’re alone again. It’s Friday night, so by ‘alone’ I actually mean still surrounded by plenty of people. But, just for the moment, no one’s listening to us. Sammi’s deep in conversation with Cam, and Bram’s wife Lucy wandered in a little while ago, so he’s down the other end of the bar trying to pretend he’s not feeling her up.
I see my opportunity and I seize it.
‘So…’
Ok, so I don’t seize it very well.
Florence turns to me, a smile playing on her lips. ‘So.’
I flip through my mental file of conversation starters, but my brain returns nothing. I’m normally so good at this. I’venever struggled to talk to women, not once in my life, but around her I’m suddenly tongue-tied.
‘You don’t date humans,’ I finally blurt out, and I immediately feel regret creep up my throat. I wasn’t really planning to lead with that. Although now it’s out there I can’t deny that I am curious.
She holds my gaze for a moment longer than I can bear it. I almost panic-blurt something else, but I just about manage to hold it together.
‘No, I don’t,’ she says, carefully, and I feel the weight of the words she isn’t saying.
Not anymore.
‘Why?’
She ponders the question for a while before she finally says, ‘Bad experiences.’
There’s more to it, that much is obvious, but she’s not giving anything away, and I don’t blame her. Whoever I do or don’t resemble, I’m a stranger, and I know most people aren’t chronic oversharers like me.
So I don’t push it. Instead, I gasp in mock offence. ‘Hey, don’t tar us all with the same brush.’
She raises an eyebrow before a smile follows, and I might be imagining it, but I’m sure there’s a hint of relief in there. ‘I heard you’re not dating at the moment anyway.’
Oh yeah. That was definitely a thing I was supposed to be doing. I think I probably threw that whole idea out of the window the first time Florence smiled at me. But it’s been hours since my divorce was finalised.Hours.
And I could well do with remembering that.
‘No,’ I say ruefully. ‘Not for a little while. Who told you that?’
‘Bram.’
Of course he did.
‘Did he tell you why?’
‘Yeah,’ she says, her rosy lips pressing into the slightest smirk. I realise I’m staring a moment too late and she catches me in the act. ‘He said you jump blindly into relationships with anyone who shows the slightest bit of interest in you, and that those relationships invariably end up being– what were his exact words?–an absolute shit show.’
Fucking Bram, I could kill him. If he wasn’t already dead, obviously. And, more to the point, if he wasn’t absolutely on the fucking money.
I mean, I have the divorce certificate pinned to my fridge that proves it.
When I chance a look back at Florence I find she’s studying me and her expression has changed completely. The smirk is gone and in its place is a different smile, something warm and quiet and understanding. ‘Sounds like you need to learn how to take things slowly,’ she says gently.