Tess finished the pasta and ran her finger around the bowl. “Why are you single? You can cook, and you can do other things”—she gestured vaguely at the bed—“very well.”
“I’ve been pining for you all these years.” He was straight-faced.
“No you haven’t,” said Tess. She frowned. “That is, you haven’t, have you?”
Connor took her empty bowl and placed it inside his own bowl. He put them both on the bedside table. Then he lay back against his pillow.
“I did actually pine for you for a while,” he admitted.
Tess’s cheerful feeling began to slip. “I’m sorry, I had no idea—”
“Tess,” interrupted Connor. “Relax. It was a long time ago, and we didn’t even go out for that long. It was the age difference. I was a boring accountant, and you were young and ready for adventures. But I did sometimes wonder what could have been.”
Tess had never wondered. Not even once. She’d barely thought of Connor.
“So you were never married?” asked Tess.
“I lived with a woman for a number of years. A lawyer. We were both on track for partnership, and marriage, I guess. But then my sister died, and everything changed. I was looking after Ben. I lost interest in accounting around the same time that Antonia lost interest in me. And then I decided to do my degree in physical education.”
“But I still don’t get it. There’s a single dad at Liam’s school in Melbourne, and the women swarm all over him. It’s embarrassing to watch.”
“Well,” said Connor. “I never said they didn’t swarm.”
“So you’ve just been playing the field all these years,” said Tess.
“Sort of,” said Connor. He went to speak and then stopped.
“What?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Go on.”
“I was just going to admit something.”
“Something juicy?” guessed Tess. “Don’t worry, I’ve become very open-minded ever since my husband suggested I live in the same house as him and his lover.”
Connor gave her a sympathetic smile. “Not that juicy. I was going to say that I’ve been seeing a therapist for the last year. I’ve been—how do people put it—‘working through’ some stuff.”
“Oh,” said Tess carefully.
“You’ve got that careful look on your face,” said Connor. “I’m not crazy. I just had a few issues I needed to . . . cover off.”
“Serious issues?” asked Tess, not sure if she really wanted to know. This was meant to be an interlude from all the serious stuff, a crazy little escapade. She was letting off steam. (She was aware of herself already trying to define it, to package it in a way that made it acceptable. Perhaps the self-loathing was about to hit.)
“When we were going out,” said Connor, “did I ever tell you that I was the last person to see Janie Crowley alive? Rachel Crowley’s daughter?”
“I know who she is,” said Tess. “I’m pretty sure you never told me that.”
“Actually, I know I wouldn’t have told you,” said Connor. “Because I never talked about it. Hardly anyone knew. Except for the police. And Janie’s mother. I sometimes think that Rachel Crowley thinks I did it. She looks at me in this intense way.”