‘Five to,’ Delta says, appearing around the edge of the partition. ‘Next customer’s waiting.’
Her eyes wander to the screen and I quickly close Mack’s website. I half wish I hadn’t logged on at all. Mack … the more I know of him, the more connected I feel to him, and that’s the last thing I need or want at this juncture. I’m adult enough to admit, privately and to no one else, that he’s an attractive man. He has shoulders made for carrying sandbags and his odd eyes cast magic when he looks at me. Even his clothes fit his body in a way that suggests they’re trying to contain dynamite. You know how deeply unsexy Simon Cowell’s jeans are? Pressed, bootleg, like he puts a brand-new pair on every day? Mack’s are the opposite; lived in and loved in, and they do that distracting low-rider thing on his hips. I kind of hate myself for acknowledging this stuff. I’ve tumbled into connections with unsuitable men for most of my life, and this one I know upfront to be married and still in love with his estranged wife. Maybe, if I’m painfully honest, the transparent way he loves is part of his appeal, even if it’s someone else. It’s demoralizing to know that if I wasn’t being so actively solo and self-focused just now, Mack might be another failed flamingo to add to my list. What bird would he be, I wonder? Eagles are the only American birds I can think of. I don’t need an eagle. They’re too grand and attention-seeking. I sigh, wishing I hadn’t looked at his website and found more to admire in him. Right. I have to take Ali’s advice and keep my attention where it needs to be. I need to step away from searching for someone else in favour of searching for myself. God, that sounds wanky even to my own ears. And seeing all of the social media coverage and interest has added a new layer of stress to everything. I have to get this right for more than just me now. Single ladies, I’m Beyoncé. Temporarily.
Mack is Mr Four O’clock. I find him halfway through a slab of Erin’s cake, his camera on the table beside his plate. He looks surprised to see me and I resist the urge to run back to the computer to double-check I closed his website.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘It’s good, right?’
‘I’m not generally a coconut fan but this could change my mind.’ He glances across at the counter. ‘Delta suggested I bring some back for you,’ he says.
‘She did?’ I fix her with a ‘you’re busted’ look. She just laughs and shrugs her shoulders.
Mack pushes his chair back as he stands and gathers his stuff. ‘Better make the most of my hour,’ he says, heading for the computer station. ‘Video call with the boys.’
‘How much do I owe you for the cake?’ I say, shrugging my coat on as I approach the counter, digging through my pockets for my purse.
‘Depends,’ Delta says, then leans in to whisper. ‘Nothing, if you give me the lowdown on what’s going on between you and Han Solo.’ Her knowing eyes tell me she caught me googling him.
‘Honestly, there’s nothing to tell,’ I say, turning to casually check he’s out of earshot. ‘He’s technically married, and I’m working on myself. It’s just a weird situation we’ve found ourselves in. We’re trying to stay out of each other’s way and make the best of it.’
‘My idea of making the best of being stuck in a remote lodge with a hot man is different to yours, for sure,’ Delta says.
I glance down at her enormous baby bump and we both laugh quietly.
‘Point taken,’ she says.
‘I’m just not going there,’ I say. It’s not a lie. It’s too complicated and my heart isn’t up for a kicking from a married man.
‘You know what I think is a real shame?’ She pauses, serious-faced, as if she’s about to pass on some sage life advice. ‘That you don’t wear your hair in Princess Leia buns. Honestly, you two could pure clean up on the look-alike circuit.’
I really like Delta, but she’s a massive wind-up. She laughs, pushing my money back across the counter, her green eyes brimming with trouble as I leave.
Roast chicken is the most comforting smell in the world; I’m prepared to die on that hill. I’ve just pulled a crispy-skinned golden bird from the oven and its scent is powerful enough to send me hurtling back twenty years to my mum doing the same thing and gathering us all around the table to eat.
‘Smells good.’ Mack appears damp-haired and barefoot, fresh out of the bath. We’ve planned to eat together tonight, a tactical move on my part because I need to talk to him.