It was only good manners and some kind of residual momentum that kept Nia walking forward.
Farlan was sprawled across a sofa, the sleeves of his dark jumper rolled up.
She tried so hard not to look at him that she almost tripped over the edge of one of the rugs, and her cheeks flared anew as she imagined him remarking on
her clumsiness.
But when she stole a quick glance in his direction, he wasn’t even looking at her. He was looking at Finn McGarry.
She took a breath, forcing air in and out of her lungs. Had she given it any thought, she would probably have expected the genealogist to be an elderly man in a shabby, tweed suit.
But Finn was apparently short for Finola—and Finola McGarry was young and slim, with huge blue eyes and a dark pixie haircut.
She was also very pretty.
Farlan certainly seemed to think so, she thought, a slippery unease balling in her stomach as Diane handed her a cup of tea.
She watched as he gave Finn one of his slow, teasing smiles.
‘All these questions, Ms McGarry…you’re making me feel nervous.’
‘Please call me Finn—and I doubt much makes you nervous, Mr Wilder.’
‘It’s Farlan. And a beautiful woman cross-examining me makes me very nervous.’ His green eyes glittered. ‘Unless, of course, you’re a fan.’
‘I am. I did an internet quiz on you the other day. Got every answer right except one.’
‘Which was…?’
‘Your middle name.’
Nia froze, her fingers tightening around the handle of her teacup, chanting the answer inside her head.
I know his middle name, she wanted to shout. Jude. It’s Jude. And I know that he always falls asleep with his arm under the pillow, and I know that Plein Soleil is his favourite film. I know him as well as I know myself, maybe more.
Farlan’s chin jerked up, his eyes locking with hers, and for a horrible moment she thought she had spoken out loud.
But then he looked away, almost as if he hadn’t seen her. ‘It’s Jude.’
‘Like the song?’ asked Finn.
Farlan shook his head. ‘The saint, actually,’ he explained.
Nia was starting to feel sick. It had been painful enough accepting that Farlan could not forgive her, and that there would be no second chance for the two of them. But imagining him in a relationship with another woman was a whole new level of agony.
She leant forward to put her cup down, letting her hair fall in front of her face so that she could no longer see Farlan and Finn.
Farlan and Finola Wilder. Even their names sounded good together.
‘Could I have some milk?’
The cup in her hand jerked as she realised Farlan was standing beside her. ‘I didn’t think you liked it in tea—’
‘My taste has changed,’ he said flatly.
His gaze rested on her face and she felt her heart contract with shock at how much it hurt to look up at him and no longer find love in his eyes.
As she drank her tea, she managed to keep up a flow of polite conversation with Diane, but her ears kept tuning in to the couple talking on the other sofa.