Mothers, Rhys says, rolling his eyes.
But I don’t mind his mother. She’s taken to calling me Stefanie, which I love because no one else calls me that and it feels affectionate, and she learned how I take my tea after only being told once. I think she actually likes me, which is more than a lot of girlfriends get from their boyfriend’s mothers.
Aside from me and his mother, the other girl in Rhys’s life is Meg. I don’t see as much of her as I’d expected I would when we were first introduced, given that they’re meant to be best friends. But I quickly learned that their best friendship isn’t like mine and Tem’s – co-dependent – but far more chilled. They treat each other like family, dropping in and out of each other’s lives with the easy entitlement of siblings.
We pick up where we left off, Rhys says when I ask him about this. She’s like a life friend, not a day-to-day friend.
But still, in the handful of times we’ve met since Rhys and I got together, I’ve come to like her a lot, and being around her feels easier than it does with Rhys’s male friends.
It’s the second week of February, and Rhys and I have agreed to meet Meg for a drink in the pub near Rhys’s house. We make it a lunchtime drink to avoid me – the only one under eighteen – getting ID-ed on the door.
She’s running late, Rhys says, looking at his phone and pushing it back into his pocket. Typical. Let’s get a drink and a table.
The guy behind the bar looks a little familiar, and I squint at him as he serves the girl in front of us. He has ginger hair and a face that is all angles. A smile that sparkles.
‘Hey,’ he says to Rhys as the girl takes her drink and leaves. ‘What can I get you?’
Rhys opens his mouth to reply, but it’s me that speaks, and I do it in a burst of recognition. ‘Daniel?’
The barman looks at me and his face jolts in surprise. He slaps his hand on to the bar and then points at me.
‘Steffi?’ he half exclaims, half asks. ‘Little Steffi Brons?’
‘Oh my God,’ I say. ‘Hi.’
It’s Daniel. Daniel Carlisle, one of Clark’s old friends from secondary school. He was around our house so often he called my dad by his first name. He came to the wedding when my dad married Clark’s mum.
Daniel, who I haven’t seen since Clark’s funeral, and even then it was from across the room. Clark. Clark, who would be twenty-three.
‘Hi yourself!’ He puts both hands on the bar and grins. ‘Holy hell. Little Steffi Brons. You grew up.’
‘I guess I did,’ I say, laughing. Rhys taps my arm and looks questioningly at me. This is Daniel, I explain quickly. For some reason I can’t quite bring myself to explain that I know him because of Clark, so I skip over it and turn back to Daniel instead. ‘This is Rhys,’ I say, gesturing. ‘My boyfriend.’
‘Cool,’ Daniel says, nodding. He leans over to shake Rhys’s hand. ‘All right, mate?’
‘He’s deaf,’ I add, but to my surprise Rhys shoots me a look of annoyance. Am I not supposed to tell people this? That’s new.
‘You doing OK?’ Daniel shifts his attention back to me. ‘Damn, how long’s it been since I saw you last?’
‘Three years? Four?’ I hedge.
‘Christ. And now you’re in a bar,’ he says. ‘And you’re talking.’
‘Oh, that.’ It’s true – the words are coming far more easily than I would have thought they would if I’d imagined this scenario. But I’m not going to question it. ‘Yeah, I talk now.’
He smiles, wide and sincere. ‘Awesome. What do you both want to drink? It’s on me.’
‘Aw, thanks, but you don’t have to,’ I say automatically.
Daniel shrugs, flashing a wider grin. ‘Course I do. Least I can do for Clark’s little sister.’
My heart clenches. Am I still a little sister if the older brother is dead? For one crazy moment, I want to ask him. Instead, I force myself to smile. ‘Go on, then. Just a Coke for me. And . . .’ I look to Rhys. Beer?
He nods, but his expression is unusually unreadable.
‘And a pint for Rhys,’ I say.
Daniel pauses, his gaze flicking over to Rhys. ‘Is he eighteen?’ he asks me.
‘Yes,’ Rhys says.
‘Oh, sorry, mate, didn’t realize you could talk,’ Daniel says, and I wince, glancing at Rhys, wondering if I should tell Daniel that he’s being rude. Rhys looks back at me, his eyes unusually fiery, and I take the hint and say nothing. ‘Greene King?’ Daniel’s already holding the glass in front of the tap. ‘Hey, Steffi, how are your parents?’
‘They’re doing OK.’ This is mostly true, I think. ‘How is everything with you?’
‘Can’t complain.’ He gives an easy shrug. ‘Air in my lungs, and all that.’ A sad smile flickers on his face, but it’s quickly swallowed by a grin. He puts two glasses in front of me.
‘It was good to see you again.’
‘You too.’ He gives me a brotherly wink and I suddenly miss Clark so much I almost start to cry.
I take the two glasses and begin to turn away, taking a deep, quiet breath.