Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(19)

She fell somewhere between him and Raco in age, Falk guessed. Probably closer to Raco, or maybe she was just religious about applying sunscreen. Her hair was light or dark brown, depending on how it caught the overhead lights.

“No, Greg,” she was saying. “Don’t worry. Absolutely. It happens. It’s—”

The reassurances went on for so long that Falk had to smile. Gemma met his eye and grinned as well. She leaned against the bar, picking up a promotional beer mat with her free hand and turning it over idly as Raco continued to apologize.

“I think we can forgive you,” she said finally. “Give my love to Rita. Okay. Yes. Look, sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.” She cringed as she spoke and immediately stopped fiddling with the coaster, placing it down firmly on the counter. On the side facing up, Falk could see a slogan for a new craft ale: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

He felt a flutter of amusement and glanced up. Gemma shrugged with her free hand.

Been a long day, she mouthed.

Fair enough, he mouthed back.

She smiled at him then. “Okay. I’ll make sure he knows,” she said into the phone, still looking at Falk. “No worries. Bye.” She hung up and returned Falk’s phone. “He was being called back in. He’s very sorry about tonight.”

Falk laughed. “Yeah, I got that.”

“He said he’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s a good bloke.”

“He really is. Always has been.” Gemma’s gaze skimmed the packed room. “Well—”

“Yeah.” They teetered on the brink of awkward. “So—”

Stay or go?

Outside, the rain seemed to have passed, at least. Gemma still had her coat on. Falk had some work he needed to catch up on at home. He could put the footy on TV in the background. Raco wasn’t going to make it. The bartender pointedly served someone behind them.

“It’s a shame.” Gemma fiddled with a button on her coat but didn’t do it up. “I’m sorry not to see him.”

“Me, too,” Falk said. “You’ve known him awhile?”

“Yeah, and his brothers. I don’t see him that much these days, but we were all at school together so, I don’t know, what’s that? Twenty years now? More?” She widened her eyes good-naturedly at the number. “How about you?”

“Met him and Rita about five years ago,” Falk said. “So we’re not quite close enough yet to be giving each other advice from beer mats, but you know, I’m hopeful we’ll reach—”

“Yep, you can stop right there, thanks.” But she was smiling as she flipped the coaster over on the counter. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, now hidden against the scratched marble.

“I mean, if we were close enough, I’d obviously say—” Falk turned over the beer mat nearest his elbow to reveal: You regret the things you didn’t do more than the things you did.

“Jesus,” Gemma said. Her sleeve brushed his as she leaned in to read. She smelled nice, he noticed. “What brand is this?”

“It’s not calling to you?”

She wrinkled her nose. “But I’m probably not the target audience. I guess the ‘no regrets’ thing works for some people.”

“Craft beer marketing teams?”

“Clearly.” She absently turned over Falk’s mat, too. “Tattoo enthusiasts?”

“Bungee jumpers.”

“Energy drink companies.”

“Disgruntled employees who’ve told their boss to shove it,” he said. “And are now going backpacking through Thailand?”

“Middle-aged executives signing up for a marathon against their doctor’s advice.”

“People who’ve never really had to, you know—” Falk stopped himself. No. Wrong tone. Too heavy. He tried to steer the thought a different way, but she’d already sensed it.

“Reflect bitterly on things they can’t change?”

“Exactly.” He made his voice light.

They caught each other’s eye. Neither said anything for a moment. Her face was open and relaxed, but there was a shadow of something he couldn’t quite read.

“Do those people exist?” Gemma said.

“Apparently.” Falk nodded at the coasters.

“Lucky them.” She smiled then, warm and deep, and in that tiny moment, he suddenly felt it, as clear and resonant as a bell.

Stay.

Gemma was already looking past him, though, outside, to where the river lay black and shining. Her coat was still undone, but now she reached into her pocket and pulled out her own phone. Falk could feel her thoughts sliding to the evening that lay ahead, the same question rising in her. Stay or go?

“Do you have time for a drink?” Falk heard himself say the words with a faint sense of surprise. He’d been thinking it, but it seemed his head was a half step behind his mouth, stumbling to catch up. “Seeing as we’re both here?”

Gemma turned to him, her own face still.

It felt like a long moment as Falk watched her calculate whatever she was weighing up. She turned her beer mat over, then flipped it facedown again. “Does the drink come with a life-affirming motto?”