NICK
THE phone is in Laine’s lap as we drive back to mine, her fingers tracing the edges as though she’s trying to convince herself its real. She keeps looking my way. Fleeting little glances that melt my heart.
“Have you lived alone a long time?” she asks as we pull in through the gates.
I nod. “A while.”
“Do you get lonely?”
“Not anymore.” I meet her eyes as I park up on the gravel.
“I get lonely,” she says. “Got lonely.”
“Your mum goes away often?”
“All the time.”
I ask her the question I’ve been putting off. The one that defies all my sensibilities.
“Do you have anyone, Laine? A boyfriend or someone special…” She shakes her head and I feel a stupid rush of relief.
“Do you?”
“No,” I say.
She nods.
We take her bags in from the car, and I come back for the box of her old bel
