‘My godsons. They’re five.’
He pauses. ‘That’s very cool. And a good age.’
‘Well, kids generally like me because I know Marvel and I’ll sing the Baby Yoda song with them.’
He doesn’t reply immediately. I don’t know if that’s because I’ve mentioned kids or the fact I know the Baby Yoda song. Don’t sing the song, I tell myself.
‘Well, they’re lucky to be spending time with you. I think I miss you, Miss Josie. I’m busy tonight, but maybe the cinema in the week?’
I grin to myself. He misses me? I am familiar with that feeling. Since the Comic Con mix-up and Cameron coming to the hospital, I’ve seen a new side to him that’s warm, considerate, the buds of a new relationship coming to blossom. We haven’t met up since the hospital, but we’re at a juncture now where he’s held me at a low point and he continues to check in to see how we’re all doing. He does, however, think my father’s name is Fabio.
‘Well, I think I miss you too,’ I reply.
‘I miss just being next to you. Is that weird? Is that soppy? I just like hanging out with you. You’re fun and I like kissing you. God, I sound like a teenager. I also miss the other more grown-up things we’ve done,’ he rambles.
‘Same,’ I whisper in reply, biting my lip. ‘I mean, I think we could have really explored the potential of those costumes, right?’
‘We could do that at the cinema… It might get us thrown out the multiplex, though.’
My face is a few different shades of blush. ‘It’s a date, Sheriff.’
‘You’re on, Miss Josie.’
‘Now, is my mum there?’ I ask him.
‘Shall I hand you over?’
‘Yeah. I’ll catch up with you later.’
I hear a muffled exchange of words, the radio in the background.
‘Hello?’
‘Mum! What the actual… You’re killing me here,’ I shriek at her. ‘Did you wait until I was out of the house to invite him round? Why are you asking him his shoe size?’
‘He had big feet.’
‘Please tell me you didn’t ask him whether that meant he had a big—’
‘No. Anyway, that’s an urban myth. I knew someone with feet like flippers who had a tiny one like a lipstick…’
‘Can he still hear you?’ I cry painfully.
‘I’ve dipped into the hallway. I’ve also been really clever and hidden all our family photos and I’m wearing a polo-neck dress, and a cross around my neck.’
‘Why?’
‘To look more Catholic Italian, so me and Fabio match.’
I don’t know what to say. I hope she’s not dressed as a bloody nun and cooking him spaghetti.
‘JoJo, he brought a box of KitKats for your dad. He’s got such a lovely energy. He’s polite and he smells nice. I like this one.’
Why are you smelling him? She makes him sound like a puppy in a shop that she wants to keep.
‘He’s going to find out, isn’t he? And I’m not even there,’ I say, staring into space.
‘You forget, your father and I are actors. We are very good at what we do.’
