Page 19 of 56 Days
He laughs at that.
“So,” he says. “Tonight. I don’t know if the cinema is even still open... And I’m not sure if I reallywantto go there. Have you ever seenOutbreak?”
“Is that the one where a monkey bites the doctor fromGrey’s Anatomy?”
“Odd angle, but factually correct.”
“Then yes. But years ago.”
“Well, there’s a scene in a cinema where you can actuallyseethe germs coming out of people’s mouths. I thought it was funny at the time but now...” He sighs. “I don’t know. I could just be overreacting.”
She says, “Hmm,” because she doesn’t know where he’s going with this and doesn’t want to show her cards before he does.
This is so bloody exhausting. She wishes she could just press a button and skip ahead, past this part.
“We could do something else?” he suggests. “We could—”
“Yeah.”
“—go get a drink or something. Are you still in the office?”
Her mortification at reacting too eagerly is quickly replaced by terror that he might be about to suggest cominghere.
“It’s just that I was going to say we could meet in the same spot,” he says. “Outside my office? But if—”
“No, no. That’d be great. Actually, Iamworking from home now, but I live, like, five minutes away from there, so...”
“We could meet somewhere else if it’s better?”
“No, no. That’s good. Let’s do that.”
“Five thirty?”
“See you then.”
He ends the call, and she falls back, spent, onto the couch, where she allows herself half a minute of sweet relief.
So shehasn’tfucked this up.
Yet.
Apart from how busy Tesco is and the disproportionate number of people rushing from its doors clutchingjumbo-sizedpacks of paper products, nothing about Baggot Street seems to suggest that anything is wrong. All the shops are open, including the florist. So too are the cafés, pubs, and restaurants. Ciara thinks a few too many people are wearing winter gloves for this kind of weather, but that could just be because she’s looking for signs that the world has changed, evidence that these people are the kind who watch the news too. When she pulls the cuff of her coat down to avoid touching the button at the pedestrian crossing with her bare skin, it feels like overkill. A part of her hopes that no one has seen her do it, thathehasn’t.
But he couldn’t have, because he’s late today.
While she waits she tries to distract herself from overreacting to this by focusing on the two men standing outside Tesco in the plain black uniform of store security guards. One of them is sucking on a cigarette he’s keeping hidden in his palm, listening while the other one talks animatedly and points into the shop. A third person, a woman in a skirt suit, comes out and joins the conversation. She keeps glancing nervously behind her, back inside. Ciara thinks maybe they’re flustered about how many people arein-store.
This distraction works a little too well and Oliver is suddenlythere, beside her, apologizing as he bends to kiss her on the cheek—an upgrade from their last greeting, sending a little electric shock through her skin. She feels the same flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach that she did when she saw him the last time, and she wonders if this is what people mean when they talk about butterflies.
He blames his minor delay on a meeting that ran over. The partners had been hoping for the best and been uninterested in planning for the worst, so now the office is abruptly closing from tomorrow and no one quite knows how that’s going to work.
There’s a lot to figure out, he says.
“How about you? How are you getting on?”
“Grand,” she answers. “Honestly, it’s not even that different. My job is likeninety-ninepercent silently staring at my computer anyway. Okay, I have to pay for my own VitaminWater now but, apart from that... My couchisa lot comfier than those horrible ergonomic chairs they make us sit on.”
“So are you, like, coding all day or...?”
