“Growing up in care.”
The playful ease between us dims slightly. Ray looks ahead for a moment before answering. “Lonely.”
My heart sinks with sadness and I give a small nod.
“It wasn’t so bad,” he adds like it’s an after-thought. “I had Dale and Anika. But I looked around at other kids and wished to God I had their life. Stable, solid parents who gave a shit where they were, who they were with. It almost consumed me with jealousy,” he admits. “And I got this sick fucking kick out of selling coke to Uni students,” he glances my way before lowering his eyes to the floor again. “I’ve never told that to anyone,” he says absent-mindedly, like the thought comes right out of his mouth.
I almost feel honoured he’s opening up, so I give his hand a gentle squeeze. “Why?”
He shrugs, “It was a chink in their happiness. A happy family unit with their kid in Uni. I mean, that’s massive, right. And then there they were, our future doctors or scientists, buying coke from scum like me.” He sighs. “It gave me satisfaction to think they were fucking up. Then as I grew up, I became annoyed they’d jeopardise everything. Here I was wanting that life, and they had it and didn’t even realise how precious it was.”
The honesty in the word aches somewhere deep inside me. “I don’t blame you for feeling like that.”
He glances at me. “No?”
I shake my head. “You’re right. They’re privileged, and they don’t know what it’s like to not have it.”
The city glows around us while our footsteps echo softly along the pavement.
“Thanks,” he eventually says.
I smile up at him. “For what?”
“Understanding.”
As we near the casino again, we pass a tiny flower stall still somehow open despite the hour. Buckets of flowers spill across the pavement beneath fairy lights.
I slow automatically. Ray notices. “You like flowers?”
I shrug lightly. “Doesn’t every woman?” I smile. “They make me happy.”
He studies me for a second before quietly telling the vendor, “Give me the nicest bunch you’ve got.”
My eyes widen instantly. “Ray, I wasn’t hinting—”
But he’s already paying.
A minute later, he turns back towards me holding out a bouquet of pale cream roses wrapped in brown paper. The gesture is so unexpectedly gentle it nearly undoes me.
“They reminded me of you,” he says simply.
I stare down at the flowers, my chest tightening with emotion. No one’s bought me flowers in years. And somehow it isn’t even the roses that affect me most. It’s the fact he noticed I stopped walking to look at them.
Slowly, I take them from him.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper.
Ray’s gaze lingers on my face for a second too long, and suddenly the air between us feels heavier again. Charged. My heart stumbles awkwardly in my chest as he steps closer, like he’s drawn to me. I feel the warmth of him even in the cold night air. His eyes flick briefly to my mouth before meeting mine again.
And for one reckless second, I think he’s going to kiss me.
I think I might let him.
Instead, he reaches up slowly and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is featherlight.
“Come on,” he murmurs softly. “Let’s get you home.”
I wake slowly, warm and disoriented. For a second, I have no idea where I am. Then I feel a steady rise and fall beneath my cheek.