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“But before that, how about you tell me what’s going on with your mum?”

I was crashing and burning without even getting off the ground. All the spark seemed to go out of her then. No, worse–it was as if everything that made her who she was got packed up and locked away.

“My mum…” She forced herself to smile, her laugh a harsh bark. “Way to kill the mood. I mean if you’ve changed your mind?—”

“Nope.”

I stared at her expectantly and she shook her head in irritation.

“You’ve got Heather,” she replied finally. “You’re never going to be able to understand.”

“Try me.”

I deliberately kept my tone soft, and she shot me a wary look before sighing.

“Have you ever met someone who refuses to take no for an answer?” We both smiled then, able to bring up many, many customers that fit that description. “Not just ‘I want a service for this much’ or ‘that part should cost this,’ but a person who bulldozes over legitimate choices when it suits them. I don’t like seafood.” She put her hand to her chest. “I’m not allergic, but at least half the time it leaves me feeling super queasy. Most people don’t want to eat stuff that makes them feel sick that often, but Mum…”

Her head shook back and forth.

“If we were at someone else’s place, I wasn’t supposed to say anything because it was embarrassing. Not more embarrassing than me vomiting in someone’s backyard after dinner, which apparently was just me trying to get attention.” My grip on her thigh tightened. “And at home, the boys loved fish, so we’d have it for dinner at least once or twice a week. I’d try to make something else to eat. No. I’d eat the sides but not dinner. No. She’d sit me there at the table and wait me out, long past when all the others had finished their meal, waiting for me to eat what was on my plate. Hours would tick by and I’d be crying…” I moved then, putting my arm around her, wishing to fuck I’d never opened my mouth. “Tears running down my cheeks, and she’d just stare me down. It’s not about the fish.”

Her eyes found mine.

“It’s never about the fish, or the wedding, or having a boyfriend or anything.” There was something so very resigned about her tone. “Mum needs to feel in control to be OK. She always does, and she will do whatever she can to make sure that stays true. I’ve tried reasoning with her and pushing back, explaining how this makes me feel, but she can’t take that information in.” She let out a shuddering sigh. “She’ll choose being in control over me every time. So it’s either accept that or feed her a line of bullshit to protect my real life from her scrutiny.”

Her hands went to the table, playing with the tablecloth.

“That’s why I created imaginary boyfriends.” She shot me a sheepish look. “It keeps her off my back, out of my business, tantalising her with the possibility of me finding a husband, without actually requiring me to do that.”

“You don’t want to get married one day?” I asked, which was probably not the greatest first date question. She snorted in recognition of that.

“Married, kids, they’re not on my radar.” Her focus shifted to the rest of the restaurant, gazing at the couples and families seated there. “Other people really seem to make it work, but I…” Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “I just want to be happy, y’know, and I’ve never been able to see a way people can have those things and enjoy life. It’s always poopy bum kids and bickering about who needs to do the dishes and… I don’t want that. Do you?”

She didn’t want me to answer that question. A future where she didn’t wear my ring, nor carry my child? Yeah, I could get behind that, but one without her in it? She wasn’t ready to hear that right now, and it just went to show how terrible I was at dating, dragging this shit up.

“I don’t need kids or a wife to make me happy,” I replied. Just you, was my silent addendum. “Obviously, or I’d have them by now.”

“So what’s that about?” she asked, rallying quickly as she twisted to face me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date… Hang on, there was that girl back when I was an apprentice. The crazy one!”

“Cindy…” Saying my ex’s name was like swearing in church, ill advised. “Yeah, she burned me pretty bad.”

Dale, my married former employee? He’d given up on trying to crack onto Jamie when I gave him his marching orders, but it appeared he was fairly indiscriminate in his tastes. I’d gone over to Cindy’s place to surprise her, only to be shocked to find him balls deep inside her. My ex tried to rationalise it all, but I didn’t stick around to hear her reasoning.

“So is this dating rehab?” Jamie asked. “I need a fake date and you need to learn how to get back in the saddle. Maybe if?—”

I moved in, pressing my mouth to hers.

“We aren’t talking about other women while we’re together,” I informed her. “Fake date or whatever, I’m always one hundred percent focussed on who I’m with.”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared at me, a question in her eyes, but before we could discuss anything further, the waiter returned with our food. We sat in silence as it was deposited on the table, then I thanked the man.

“So, no anchovies, no seafood,” I said, prodding the nearest pizza, “and extra cheese, just the way you like it.”

“You had me at cheese,” she said, reaching for a slice.

Chapter 16

Jamie