So much for being alone. So much for avoiding being alone with Kit.
They don’t speak as she washes the first glass, but Haf can feel the heat of her radiating across the gap.
‘So,’ Haf says eventually, focusing on removing Esther’s lipstick from the rim. The glass looks expensive as well as potentially being some kind of heirloom, and she tries to concentrate desperately on not smashing it in the sink, but Kit is so close that her hands are shaking and her whole body feels like jelly. Electrified jelly.
‘So.’
‘Hi again.’
‘Hello.’
She takes a deep breath. Maybe now’s the time? Rip the plaster off, acknowledge the elephant in the room, point atthe enormous raging horn she had for this woman only hours before.
Well, perhaps not the last bit.
Try to be normal.
‘Thanks for the book recommendation,’ she manages to croak out.
Somehow, the world doesn’t end right at that moment, though it would have been nice if it did. Nothing really happens at all. If she was talking to Christopher, he’d stutter and flush, but Kit does neither of those things. She barely even reacts.
After a long pause, Kit speaks in a low voice.
‘I did think it was perhaps too much of a coincidence for a brand-new copy to be on the hall table. Briefly wondered if Mum had accidentally found herself in a queer book club, or something. And you know, for a minute, I did think, what if this is the same book? It seemed like too much of a coincidence, but today seems to be full of coincidences.’
Her hand is outstretched expectantly, waiting for the first glass. Haf passes it, and their fingertips brush together, sending sparks of static through her.
‘Yeah,’ breathes Haf, taking another glass. ‘It was definitely a surprise. I knew Christopher had, has a sister, obviously. But I didn’t make the connection.’
‘He hasn’t shown you any photos, I suppose?’
Fuck, this seems like a mistake. There’s obviously something going on between them, and to make it sound like they’ve never spoken about her in four months of their fake-dating timeline is not going to help that.
‘No, it’s more... I’m just bad at faces,’ explains Haf.
This is actually true – she’s never been able to translate a photograph to a real-life face. Another reason why online dating would have been a nightmare. Her dates would have to wear purple hats or red chrysanthemums for her to be able tofind them, which might have killed the vibe a little. She even gets it a bit with people she’s met – either never recognising them or always mistaking them for someone else. Really, it’s a little impressive that she recognised Kit at all, but it also feels like there’s just no one like her. Haf memorised her outline the moment they met. Plus, the flutters she gets in her chest whenever Kit is near are a dead giveaway.
Christopher obviously hadn’t shown her photos of everyone, apart from the dogs. Perhaps another thing they should have thought about, mild face-blindness or no.
‘Oh, that must be annoying.’
‘It is.’
‘I just thought...’ Kit trails off for a second. ‘We just don’t talk a lot, that’s all.’
Against the darkness outside, the mirror acts like a window, reflecting their faces back at them. Haf sees Kit lick her lips, concentrating a little too hard on buffing the second glass.
Four glasses to go, thinks Haf, taking the second from the side. Butterflies swirl in her stomach.
This is excruciating.
Kit’s hair swishes as she turns slightly, putting the first dry glass straight into the cupboard. She smells like walking through a forest, hot coffee clasped in hand. Like the outside and possibility and comfort.
Get a grip, she tells herself.
‘You said you’re all done working for the holidays? It’ll be nice to have a break, I expect.’
Kit snorts. ‘There’s always more work to be done, somehow. But yes, apart from checking my emails a few times, I’m off the hook until New Year’s Day.’
