The next day as I narrate all the tiny details of everything that passed between me and Rhys, Mila listens carefully—going so far as to almost yell at a customer who won’t stop calling her again and again. It is only Tim’s deathly glare that stops her from doing so.
Joe joins in too. Old, innocent Joe who always sees the good in people and forgets a little more every day. He tells me of his wife, long dead, who argued with him every day. But he made up, forgave her, and apologised to her with a flower regardless of whether he was at fault or not. Because he loved her.
“But I don’t love him, Joe,” I counter, walking past him to keep the dirty dishes in the sink.
Joe gives me a knowing smile. “Young lady, you need to stop lying to yourself,” he says.
Mila only has one thing to say, “He’s
