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Deciding to give in, I exhale, slumping back on the cushions. I have to admit I already feel a small sense of relief that someone else knows. Carrying this around for the past few weeks has taken its toll. Finally, I get to talk about him. About what he’s meant to me.

‘I think there was an attraction between us quite early on, a bit of… tension, you know? A spark,’ I begin, chewing on my lip.

‘We got to know each other a bit better and when he let me know that he was interested, even though I knew I shouldn’t even consider the idea, I couldn’t…

I couldn’t help it.’ My mind flits back to the moment in the lift and a thrill rolls down my spine at the memory. ‘I let him know that I liked him too.’

Mum nods. ‘I see.’

‘And it was great,’ I say quietly, my stomach clenching. ‘It was fun and romantic and… perfect. We both knew it couldn’t last, though, for so many reasons. It never should have started in the first place. I was such an idiot to let myself…’

I trail off.

‘Fall for him?’ Mum suggests.

My eyes fall to my lap. I don’t need to answer for her to know that she’s hit the nail on the head.

She doesn’t say anything, waiting patiently for me to go on.

‘It had to end. It just had to.’ I sigh, bringing my eyes up to look at her. ‘He invited me out to Australia.’

Her eyebrows lift just a tad. I honestly have no idea if she’s surprised or not.

‘He said he’d pay for my ticket and everything.

’ I sigh, a weak smile breaking through before I can stop it.

‘It was very sweet, what he said when he invited me. All these really lovely things about how he knew it was fast, but he didn’t care, he’d never felt so… happy. He asked me to think about it.’

‘And have you?’

‘I didn’t have anything to think about.’ I shrug glumly. ‘It’s a no, obviously.’

‘Why is that?’ she asks breezily.

I stare at her. She stares back. Is she out of her mind ?

‘Mum, you know why,’ I emphasise, utterly astounded by her calm demeanour. ‘I can’t casually pack my bag and hop off to Australia with a surfer for a bit.’

‘Personally, I think that sounds rather lovely.’

‘Mum . ’

‘Iris, you travel all the time for work,’ she says, brushing aside my astonishment with a wave of her hand. ‘You’ve never really felt at home here in London, to be honest.’

I snort. ‘Leo would disagree with you there. Having met me, he’d be the first person to tell you that I’m a city-mode kind of person. I’m London born and bred; this is where I’m meant to be, it suits me and just because I like somewhere else, doesn’t mean—’

‘London is a part of you, of course, it always will be, but it’s not where you have to make your home if it doesn’t feel right,’ she cuts in impatiently.

Stunned at her abrupt statement, I shut my mouth.

‘You’ve never found your place here is what I mean,’ she continues brazenly.

‘You’ve searched, but it’s never been right, has it?

But none of this really has anything to do with an invitation to join someone in Australia for a few weeks.

You’re a freelance writer; you can work from anywhere.

Would there be any harm in you joining him? ’

‘Um, yes .’ I throw my hands up in exasperation.

‘You seem to be forgetting that he is the subject of an article. Think about what Toni would say! She would know that something was going on if Leo himself pays for me to go out there. Also, let’s not forget that Leo Silva is Michelle Martin’s son. Do you really think she’d allow this?’

‘You’re two consenting adults,’ Mum says in a blasé manner. ‘If anything, she might be pleased that her son is dating the brilliant and beautiful journalist she picked out.’

‘God, Mum, we’re not dating,’ I groan.

‘Sounds like he wants to.’ She gives me a pointed look. ‘You just told me he said you made him happy.’ She sighs. ‘Iris, does he make you happy?’

I don’t know how to answer.

‘Being away from him has certainly made you unhappy,’ she remarks, quirking a brow. ‘I’ve never seen you so… deflated. It’s been alarming to witness you like this.’

Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes, admitting defeat. ‘I’ve missed him, yes,’ I say so quietly, I’m not sure she’ll be able to hear me across the room. ‘Maybe if things were different – if he wasn’t him and I wasn’t me – then yeah. He might make me… happy.’

‘Iris Gray, you’re making excuses and you know it.’

My eyes snap open at her. ‘ What? ’

‘You’re not Romeo and Juliet,’ she says wearily. ‘People meet at work all the time. Once the article is published, there’s no reason you can’t date. Toni might get a kick out of being the person who brought you together – it’s quite a nice story: the interviewer and the interviewee.’

‘It’s unprofessional.’

‘It’s life,’ Mum counters. ‘Sometimes, you don’t meet someone in the right place at the right time, but that doesn’t matter. When it happens, it happens. It’s too rare and special to shrug off and forget. As for Michelle Martin, if her son is happy, I’m sure she would be.’

‘She owns magazines I write for. If she thinks that I’ve been unprofessional, she could tell her editors to stop commissioning me.’

Looking me dead in the eye, Mum leans forwards. ‘Then who would be being unprofessional?’

A burst of nervous laughter bubbles up my throat before I can stop it.

To be fair, she’s not wrong.

‘Michelle Martin is the sort of person who would put her business before any personal feelings,’ Mum says with a wry smile.

‘If she wants the best person for the job and you are that person, then she’s not going to stop you.

Besides, if you’re worried, would you need to tell her the truth while you were out in Australia?

It’s perfectly feasible that you’d be flying out to be there for the final contest and finish your article.

You don’t have to tell her anything else and then if things got more…

serious as time went on, you could deal with that then.

Keep it under wraps for now, see what happens. ’

I can’t believe this is happening. Mum is actively encouraging me to go to Australia to be with Leo.

I never would have guessed that this would be her reaction, not ever.

I wonder if she’s got a bit caught up in the fantasy of it; maybe the divorce is playing with her emotions a little and she’s not herself.

I feel obliged to remind her of the facts.

‘I’ve only known him for three weeks,’ I say firmly. ‘If I were to fly to Australia, things would be intense and then they could go really bad. This is a whirlwind romance, Mum, and that might not end well.’

‘The long, slow, thought-out romances don’t always end well, either,’ she says with a shrug.

‘You don’t get to decide how it’s going to go before it’s even started.

You can’t run away from the threat of heartbreak forever.

Otherwise you miss out on all the good stuff. It’s always worth the risk, Iris.’

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. ‘Is that how you feel about you and Dad?’

She gives me a small smile, her eyes glistening.

‘Yes, that’s how I feel. Things didn’t end how I hoped, but look where I am.

I’m here with you . That means all of it was worth it.

I don’t regret any of it.’ She hesitates.

‘But I do know that if I’d turned your father down when he first asked me out, I’d have regretted that. I’d have always wondered what if ?’

I nod, not quite trusting myself to speak.

‘Iris, your head has always been in charge. Don’t you think it might be fun to give your heart the reins for a little while?’ she asks lightly.

‘Mum,’ I whisper, ‘we’re talking about a trip to the other side of the world.’

‘Rather an elaborate date, but it’s fun! Certainly different,’ she says, a playful smile on her lips. ‘I admire his ingenuity.’

I snort, appreciating her lightening the tone. This conversation has zapped all the energy out of me.

‘There’s another roadblock to this anyway.

I can’t bring myself to accept his offer of paying for everything,’ I admit wearily.

‘The idea of me jetting off on his credit card without any thought to my work, ignoring how it might affect my career – something about it doesn’t sit right with me.

But my bank balance isn’t screaming it’s in the mood for an expensive trip to Australia. ’

‘Yes, well, my Iris relies on no one but herself; you’ve always been this way.’ Mum sighs and finally pushes herself to her feet, drifting over to where I am and placing her hand on my cheek. ‘But you don’t always have to be in it alone, you know.’

‘I know,’ I say gratefully, my eyes brimming with tears as I look up at her. ‘Thanks for the talk, Mum. I appreciate it.’

She smiles down at me and then drops her hand, pulling down on the hem of her blouse to straighten it.

‘Right,’ she says briskly, marching towards the door. ‘Lunch time.’

We don’t speak about it again for the rest of the day.

*

The following evening, I’m attempting to find something mindless on Netflix to watch to distract me from making important life decisions when there’s a knock on the door.

Heaving myself off from the sofa, I plod over to open it.

‘Mum!’ I say, stunned to find her there waiting for me.

‘Hello, Iris,’ she smiles, bustling past me into the hallway.

‘You didn’t tell me you were coming over.’

‘It was a surprise,’ she says, her eyes flickering to the flattened cushions on the sofa. She tries to hide her disappointment, but I can see it lurking there.

‘Okay, great.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘I’ve already eaten dinner, but if you want some food or anything, I can—’

‘I’m not here to eat, Iris; I’m here to tell you something,’ she says, a little flustered.

That unnerves me because my mum doesn’t really get flustered, not often anyway.

‘Has something happened? Is it Dad? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, everything’s fine,’ she says, swatting my questions away with her hand. ‘But I’ve been thinking about our conversation yesterday.’

I groan. ‘Mum, do you really want to talk about all that again?’

‘Not really,’ she says abruptly. ‘I thought we should probably do something about it, instead. Or rather, I might be able to do something.’

‘ Okaaay? ’ I say slowly, folding my arms. ‘What did you do?’

‘Something very unlike me. Something I should have done a while ago. Something reckless and spontaneous and something that quite potentially has overstepped the mark.’

My eyes widen with horror as she rummages in her bag to get her phone out.

For a terrifying moment, I wonder whether she might have called Leo or Toni or even Michelle Martin, but the logical part of my brain assures me she wouldn’t go that far.

Would she?

After scrolling for something in her emails, she looks up at me, a wide grin on her face, her eyes twinkling with excitement and mischief.

‘Iris, I think it’s about time that you and I grab life by the balls,’ she states, before showing me the screen of her phone that’s displaying a flight booking to Melbourne. ‘How would you feel about coming with me on holiday to Australia?’