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‘I thought I heard you,’ he said with a smile. Obviously Becky’s visit hadn’t been too traumatic for him. He turned to Magda, adding, ‘You can take off now, if you want. I can’t imagine anyone else is going to come in tonight.’
Magda gave Charlie a grateful smile, and Mia realised she already had her coat and bag in her hand. No one knew better than Magda the likelihood of more customers.
When she was gone, Charlie led Mia over to their table at the rear of the restaurant, and Mia sank gratefully into her chair. She loved their table. It was close to the fire in winter, and far away from the windows and prying eyes all year round.
Charlie put the plate of prawns in the centre of the table, along with a couple of napkins, then disappeared over to the bar. When he returned, he brought with him a bottle of white wine and two very large glasses. Mia smiled in appreciation as he filled hers.
‘Quite the day,’ Mia said, lifting the glass to her lips.
Charlie slumped down in the chair beside her. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For dating a crazy woman?’ Mia picked up the plumpest prawn on the plate. She deserved it.
‘I didn’t know she was coming back,’ he said.
‘Or else you would have warned me to run for the hills.’ Mia bit off the tail of her prawn, dipped it in garlic mayonnaise, chewed and swallowed. ‘Fair enough.’
‘I just…’ Charlie shook his head and reached for his glass. ‘I can’t believe she’s here.’
Which, Mia reflected, could be taken one of two ways. One, he was horrified at her arrival and even more disgusted by the way she’d spoken to his best friend, and was looking for ways to run her out of town. Two, he was just amazed at the second chance he’d been given at love.
Call her a coward, but Mia wasn’t sure she wanted to know which it was.
Charlie shifted in his chair, turning his body to face her, wineglass dangling between his strong hands. Watching them in the candlelight, Mia could see hints of the scars and burns she supposed were inevitable in his profession.
‘But never mind about my absurd day,’ he said, and Mia shifted her attention from his hands to his chocolate brown eyes. ‘What about this letter from your dad?’
Mia looked away. She hadn’t forgotten about the letter – she could almost feel it pulsing away in the bottom of her bag. But she’d tried to push it aside, out of her mind. It was a lot easier to concentrate on the evil of Becky Thrower than the disappointment of her father.
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