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‘Would you propose to a girl with the same ring you had already used to propose to another who had said no, years beforehand?’

The barman’s eyes widened as silence punctuated the end of her question.

‘Jeez,’ he said finally. ‘It’s a good thing you ordered the bottle.’

40

Daisy blew out a long breath, which quickly turned into a sigh. And all the while, the barman was staring at her, shaking his head ever so slightly as if in disbelief.

‘So, man problems then,’ he chuckled. It was a sweet laugh, clearly designed to break the tension. ‘I’m not sure how to respond to that one, other than no. Definitely not.’

Daisy lowered her eyes back to the bar as her stomach sank. It was the answer she had known she was going to get. Probably the answer she had wanted to get too, but that didn’t mean it felt any better. For a minute, all she could do was stare at her glass and try to ignore the gnawing in her gut.

After another sip of her drink, she looked up, ready to explain the situation a little further, only to find the barman was gone. A quick glance was all it took to locate him further down the bar, pouring a pint. He flashed her a smile, conveying he hadn’t forgotten her, then carried on serving the other customer.

It was probably wrong, Daisy thought, not to give any context when talking about the ring, most notably that it had come from Theo’s grandmother, but as it happened, she hadn’t needed to.When the barman returned, he was the one with questions for her.

‘Does this ring have sentimental value?’ he said. ‘I mean, I was thinking about it just then, and if it’s some ring he just picked out from a high-street jeweller, then that is a definite red flag. But maybe if it’s like a family heirloom?—’

‘It was his grandmother’s,’ Daisy cut in.

The barman let out a long vowel sound. ‘Ahhh,’ he said. ‘Then that makes things a bit different. I’m not sure how I would respond to that.’

Given that Daisy was no wiser than she had been before, she switched up her questions to ask him something different.

‘Okay, would you tell a girl you were dating that you had proposed to someone before? Or would you just hope they didn’t find out?’

‘Ouch.’ The barman gave a visible flinch. ‘This is getting worse and worse. I feel like I should give you a drink on the house, but I’ll be honest, I probably shouldn’t let you drink more than one bottle.’

Daisy let out a sad half chuckle.

‘But would you?’ she said. ‘You’re meant to be open in relationships, aren’t you? Tell them everything?’

The barman shrugged a little as he pondered this question.

‘I’m not sure it’s quite so simple,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’ve only been with my girlfriend a few months, but I have a lot of respect for her. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go home tonight and tell her I spent the evening listening to a beautiful woman in a mess over a guy who probably doesn’t deserve her.’

Daisy wasn’t sure which part of the comment shocked her more: the fact the barman had called her beautiful – which she sure as hell didn’t feel after the day she’d had – or that he’d said Theo didn’t deserve her. Then again, it was probably easyto make a judgement based on the information she had just told him. Wasn’t that why she had asked his opinion, after all?

‘So why wouldn’t you tell her?’ Daisy asked.

‘Because it doesn’t matter. You don’t matter.’

‘Thanks,’ Daisy said, not sure she’d ever gone from being completely flattered to completely offended so quickly before.

The man read her expression.

‘I don’t mean to sound like a dick,’ he said. ‘And if I knew you better, it would be completely different. But as it stands, it’s true. I talk to people on a daily basis. Make them feel listened to. Heard. You’re not the first person who has sat at this bar and poured their heart out, and a few of those have made some very inappropriate offers at the end of the night. Offers I suspect some men may have taken them up on. Sometimes, I tell my girlfriend about them, but mostly not. There’s no point. It doesn’t matter what these women say; I’m never going to go home with them. Either the trust is there or it isn’t. That’s what it comes down to, for me at least. Obviously, every relationship is different.’

Daisy sat back against the barstool, the question weighing heavily on her mind. Did she trust Theo? She came back to the same answer: twenty-four hours ago, twelve hours ago even, the answer had been yes. But it only took a moment, a split second, for an illusion to be shattered. She opened her mouth, ready to ask the barman yet another question, when a different voice spoke.

‘I don’t suppose you’d mind if I grab a glass to help you out with that wine, would you?’

41

Theo looked terrible. His skin was ashen and his shoulders sagged, as if they were being pushed down by some invisible weight.

‘Daisy, I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘Please, can I just have five minutes to explain? I was horrible, and I was wrong, and I know I was well out of line with some of the things I said. Please, could you just hear me out?’