the end of his binder and starts reading. “ ‘Ava-land is a Shangri-La. A realm of magic, hope, imagination, and, above all, love. It is a place…’ ” He hesitates, his voice scratchy. “ ‘It is a place few want to leave.’ ”
My eyes are suddenly hot, because who wrote that? Matt looks up at me, his face burning with love.
“I couldn’t have put that better myself,” he says quietly.
“Same,” I say, feeling flustered. “I mean…what yours said about you. Same.”
“No author name, I notice.” Matt jerks his head at his binder.
“It’s all of them.”
“Bastards.” He grins. “They’re all going on the chart.”
“Are they trying to send us a message, do you think?” I say, and I’m trying to sound jokey, but my eyes are hot again. Because…is this real? Really real?
“Yes,” says Matt, as though reading my mind, and he reaches his hand across the table to grasp mine.
I let him hold it for a few moments, feeling some of the tension in my body starting to sag away. But then I twist my fingers free. Because if this is going to have any chance, I have to be honest. We both have to be.
“Matt…I’m nervous,” I say, staring at the table. “I don’t want to be. But I am.”
“Of course,” says Matt gravely. “Me too. But we’ll go slowly.”
“Carefully.” I nod. “No rushing.”
“Nothing impulsive,” Matt agrees.
“We’ll realize we have differences. And we’ll work around that.” I look at him earnestly. “We’ll respect each other. I can’t love everything about your life, and you can’t love everything about my life. And…you know. That’s fine.”
“Agreed.” Matt nods. “That’s fine.”
* * *
—
On the way back to my flat, we keep our talk light and inconsequential. I don’t know what Matt’s feeling like, but my heart is hammering with nerves. It feels like a first date but the second time around. Which makes it so much harder.
The first time around, I didn’t have any reservations. All I could see was glorious, inviting terrain that I couldn’t wait to explore. Now I’m traversing the same terrain—but this time aware of its hidden rifts and potholes and dangerous cliff edges. I’m not skipping ahead confidently; I’m tiptoeing. Ready to retreat at any moment.
“I read Arlo Halsan’s autobiography,” I say, suddenly remembering.
“You did?” Matt sounds staggered.
“It was recommended to me by…someone,” I say, not wanting to mention the G-word. “And it’s extraordinary. Oh my God, his childhood. So sad.”
I hate to admit Genevieve could be right about anything, but you do look at his pieces differently when you know what’s behind them. Especially the hairless wolf. It never even occurred to me that it might represent a childhood fantasy dog that Arlo Halsan conjured up because he was so traumatized.
“But I thought you didn’t—” Matt begins. Then he stops dead, and I can tell he’s wary of the terrain ahead of us too.
We walk on silently for a while, then as we reach my flat Matt says, “I haven’t mentioned my grandfather. He’s told me how you’ve been chatting to him. You’re a good person, Ava.”
“It’s been a pleasure.” I smile at him. “I like your grandpa. Out of all your family—” I stop dead, too, because I think I’m getting near a pothole. “Anyway. He’s cool.”
“Well, he likes you too.” Matt’s gaze runs silently up to the porch light, which is still missing a bulb, and I know what he’s thinking.
“I’ll replace that,” I say hastily. “I’ve been away.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Matt lifts his hands.
I feel a bit dismayed as I push the front door open, because we’re still prickly. We’re still not quite natural with each other. But maybe it’ll come. We just need to keep talking.
“So, guess what? Maud finally refurbished all my rescue furniture!” I tell Matt as we mount the staircase to my front door. “Wait till you see the kitchen dresser. It’s blue. It looks amazing. And no nails sticking out.”
“Good to hear. Can’t wait to see it. Can’t wait to see Harold,” he adds, and I feel a swell of fondness for him.
“Why isn’t he yelping?” I say in puzzlement as we approach my flat. I open the door and wait for Harold to greet us with his usual paroxysm of joy—but there’s no dog. No excited barking. It’s eerie to come home without a greeting from Harold.
“Where is he?” I say in surprise. “Something’s wrong. Harold?” I raise my voice. “Where are you?”