Justin was scrutinising me. He was clearly thoroughly engaged by the topic. I just wanted it to end. ‘But don’t you want to know what his reasons were? Aren’t you curious to know if you’ve got half-siblings out there? You might have a whole other family. And you know, blood is blood.’
‘Is it?’ There had been a time when I’d wondered if I might have had a half-sister or brother. I was once mistaken for someone else in town, when I was about fourteen. The person said, ‘I think you must have a twin!’ It had sparked thoughts. But I was a child. My mother would never have tolerated that conversation.
‘But his reasons . . .’ Justin prompted. ‘Weren’t you curious?’
‘I’m not sure reasons really matter, do they?’ I was tired of this, and turning defensive. ‘He did what he did. That’s fine. It was his choice. We all make choices . . . But Alan was the one who was there for me. He wasn’t my blood father, but it never made a difference to me. I mean, how can I be expected to care about somebody who didn’t care about me? You reap what you sow in this life.’
‘I believe that,’ he said. ‘But, personally, I’d have wanted to know all the facts first.’
The air seemed to go out of our balloon. How quickly just one topic and a difference of opinion could dispel all optimism. This was all heavier than any first-date conversation I’d ever known. Justin had delved into territory that had never been touched by all my past boyfriends put together. I wasn’t sure that he was aware, though. He just went on studying me, contemplating me, his chin resting on his upturned hand.
‘I feel like you’re judging me,’ I found myself saying. ‘Like you’ve come here with an agenda, and I’m not measuring up.’ As the words came out, I regretted them. It was the wine. I was feeling loose and brave. He had hit a nerve, and now I wanted to punish him for it.
His pupils flickered with mild amusement. ‘Agenda? Like what? Tell me.’
‘I don’t know. You’re a bit personal and a bit intense.’ Stupidly, I felt like crying. I tried to stare across the room, at the door, willing the feeling to go away. If I cried, he was going to think I was mental.
‘Justin,’ he addressed himself after a good pause. ‘Is Alice a bit pissed off with you for some reason?’
It was playfully done. It made me smile. He had chosen to make light of it. I was never more grateful. ‘I’m not pissed off with you, Justin. I just don’t know what to make of you. What you want.’
What he wanted? It sounded so tart and un-charming. Good Lord – why did we have to get on to the topic of babies and families? I was convinced I’d never set eyes on him again.
But suddenly, I caught something in his eyes. It was a look of quietly burgeoning adoration. ‘Well, Alice, I, on the other hand, know exactly what to make of you . . .’
He was imploring me to smile, to save this. ‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘Alice, you’re a cynical, un-trusting, nearly over-the-hill woman who bears little sentimentality for family, and if it weren’t for that, you’d be perfect?’
He laughed now. ‘Close-ish. But no. What I was going to say was, you’re a lovely, multi-layered girl. Well . . . woman. You’re interesting to talk to. In fact, I’ve had a better time with you tonight than I can remember having with anybody in quite a long time . . . You’re real and you’re honest, and you’re a good person, I can tell . . . And, well, to be truthful, I wasn’t really expecting this . . .’ He shook his head as though rendered speechless. ‘I’m impressed, Alice. I’m very pleased we met. And if I say much more, it’ll probably spoil things . . .’
I was completely taken aback – by his sincerity, by the look on his face, by everything. He’d stopped me from having a meltdown. I was suddenly fonder of him and felt more affinity for him than anyone should have a right to, considering we were strangers until a couple of hours ago.
‘Justin MacFarlane . . .’ He addressed himself again, which made me grin because it was a strange quirk of his, and it had only been a few hours, but I was already getting an idea of his quirks. ‘You don’t meet girls like this one every day. So the pressure is on to ensure you don’t say something to put her off you – like grill her about her family and put her on the spot.’
‘Multi-layered, you said?’ It just came back to me. ‘Like I’m a German pastry.’
His face lit up. ‘It’s another compliment. I’m clearly crap at giving them.’
Our eyes did a little dance again. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. If he would want a debate on that topic first, too! Or if he would say, Justin MacFarlane, do you think this is the right time to kiss her? As I looked at his face, I pictured it. That electric rush when his face would move in and my eyes would involuntarily close. And then I would feel his lips, the slightly fuller bottom one, and the top one with the small vertical scar that lined up with his right eye tooth. I wondered how he got it, and if I would be able to feel it with my tongue.
He was watching me, full of suspense. I didn’t know what to say; didn’t know how to not disappoint him. Perhaps because I always tried to make such a good impression with men, I decided that, this time, I’d just be myself, and see what happened. ‘Justin, I’m going to be honest. I’m caught in this strange place of wanting more of you, yet feeling like I’ve had enough. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. And I don’t know if this is a good thing or a not-so-good thing. Or maybe it’s just a new thing.’
He went on watching me. His expression didn’t change. ‘Well,’ he said, after a while. ‘Why don’t we leave it at, It’s just a new thing? I think that sounds more promising.’
When he walked me home, he pressed a lengthy, gentle kiss on my cheek. At this point, I had zero idea if I would ever see him again. Perhaps he was just being gracious. It might well just go down as the weirdest ‘first and only’ date in history. Yet even though the thought of inviting him in for a passionate tumble was appealing, it felt like the fastest way to ruin possibility.