I leave early and walk quickly, hoping to get there first and settle myself in before he appears. But, despite my best efforts, he’s already there, leaning up against the stone wall outside the coffee shop with his feet crossed at the ankles and his attention fixed on his phone screen. His posture reminds me of how he looked on the night we first met, leaning up against a pillar at the eighties club, playing Angry Birds on his phone.
He’s wearing a red-and-black checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up, layered over a white T-shirt with black jeans and black boots. He glances up and instantly clocks me. My stomach does a somersault and his eyes widen.
‘Hi,’ he says, his face breaking into a grin as he stuffs his phone into his back pocket.
‘Hey.’ I force a smile in return, but my insides are going haywire as I come to a stop two feet in front of him.
He’s suddenly awkward, not knowing how to greet me. I make the decision for both of us, stepping forward to give him the briefest of hugs. His hands only just touch my back before I retreat, but there’s time enough for his catnip to hit me, full force.
‘I hope they have a table,’ I mumble, blushing as I turn away to push the door open. I’m hyper-aware of his proximity as he follows me inside.
There’s a table right at the back and I brace myself as I sit down and come face to face with him again.
He rakes a hand through his dark hair to push it back from his forehead and then rests his elbows on the table between us.
He hasn’t changed a bit.
‘How are you?’ he asks, studying me. His eyes are ocean blue, several shades darker than Lachie’s.
‘Really well, thanks,’ I reply, reaching for the salt shaker to play with. I’m nervous. ‘You?’
‘Good.’
I lie. He has changed. The lines at the corners of his eyes are deeper than they once were, and now there’s a hint of grey in the hair at his temples. He must be thirty-six – two years older than I am.
‘Let’s order and then we can chat,’ I decide, picking up the menu.
‘What do you usually go for?’ he asks, his eyes levelling mine over the top of our menus.
‘I don’t. I’ve never been here before.’
There’s a query in his expression.
‘I’ve been to the gift shop next door,’ I reveal.
‘Ah.’
I think it’s just dawned on him that I’ve chosen somewhere no one else I know would go to.
We need to order and pay at the counter, which I insist on doing, refusing, to his dismay, the note he tries to press into my hand. I go for the soup of the day – pumpkin and sweetcorn – while Alex opts for a baked potato with cheese.
‘So…’ he says when I return to the table. He’s swiped the salt shaker. ‘This is weird.’
‘Just a bit,’ I agree. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘Almost four years.’
‘How’s it going at work?’ I ask.
‘Good, I think.’ Small talk can be a blessing. ‘It’s sometimes hard to know, but the team seem to be responding well to suggestions.’
‘That’s good. Jet lag?’
‘Terrible for the first week. I think I’m over it now.’
‘Is it your first time in Sydney?’
‘Yeah, first time. I’m cramming in my sightseeing at the weekends. After work I’m going straight back to my hotel and crashing out. The room-service staff and I are on first-name terms.’
Although he’s gently jesting, I feel a stab of pity. It sounds like a pretty lonely experience in a new city.
‘I would offer to have you over for dinner sometime, but…’ I don’t need to point out that he wouldn’t be welcome.
He looks down at the table. ‘How is Lachie?’ he asks after a moment.
Does he know for certain that we’re still together? Has anyone told him? Has he asked?
‘He’s great,’ I reply, forcing what I hope is an easy smile, despite my nerves. ‘Still the same, still gigging. He’s got so many weddings on these days.’
He leans back in his seat and folds his arms, his foot accidentally kicking mine. We both quickly move out of each other’s way.
‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘Are you still doing wedding photography?’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘Not really. Not at all, if I’m honest.’
His eyebrows pull together. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He sounds genuinely regretful.
‘Bridget is getting married next summer. She’s asked me to do hers.’
‘Oh, wow!’
‘Yeah. I should probably get some practice in before then.’
‘Surely it’s like riding a bike…’
I shrug. ‘Maybe.’
Neither of us says anything for a long moment. I avert my gaze only to come back a second later to meet his eyes again. He smiles a small smile. ‘It’s good to see you. I wasn’t sure we’d get to catch up.’
I shake my head. ‘Me neither. Lachie persuaded me, actually.’
His eyebrows practically hit his hairline.
I can’t help but let out a little laugh. ‘Apparently I’ve been tetchy as hell and this is my one chance to put it all behind me. I think his actual words were, “Once he’s gone, he’s gone. Hopefully for good.”?’
Alex winces and looks away. ‘Fair enough.’
Another long silence ensues.
‘I’m sorry if my trip here has stressed you out,’ he says eventually, glancing at me.
‘It’s okay. It’s actually nice to see you.’
His look becomes disbelieving, and then he makes a frustrated sound and leans forward again. ‘Yeah,’ he says quietly, biting his lip.
Luckily, the waitress brings over our food at that point, so we have something to distract us.
We talk about little things as we eat – about the people we know, the magazines that have closed down and the ones that aren’t doing too badly, and my old boss Simon, who’s apparently married now with a baby on the way. Eventually, I feel at ease enough to ask about his personal life.
‘How about you? Marriage again? Kids?’
He shakes his head. ‘No. Zara remarried, though. Had a whirlwind fling with some hotshot American advertising exec last summer. She’s settled in New York.’
‘You okay about that?’
‘More than okay. I’m pleased she’s happy.’ He sounds completely sincere.
‘Still got the guilts?’ I say this flippantly, but we both know there’s nothing glib about the events of four years ago.
‘You have no idea.’
He doesn’t meet my eyes at all as he says that last sentence. His voice sounds laden down with the weight of remorse.
‘If we’d never met—’ I start to say, but he shakes his head and doesn’t let me finish my sentence, wherever it was going.
‘Zara and I had been coasting for a while. We’d been together so long, I don’t think either of us could face starting again, even though things weren’t right. She told me she’d also been having doubts but, like me, opted for the easy option.’
‘The easy option?’ I ask with astonishment.