Blind Carnival

Not Hard to Swallow

She swallows the lavash and asks, "What's your ex wife like?"

He blinks, sighs, and pokes the aubergine on his plate a couple times.

"She's average height, and has dark hair. Well, at least she had, two years ago when I last saw her."

Yes, definitely. Mars and Venus.

"That's not what I meant. What's she like as a person?"

He continues giving her a confused look. It's her turn to sigh.

"John, I'm trying to determine how much of a nightmare this dinner party is going to be. Will she try to have me with her soup, or will she wait till pudding?"

He finally smiles a bit, and it's such a relief that she exhales loudly. Honestly, even this uncertain little smile in the corners of his lips is better than none.

"I don't think she'll be much of a barney, Liv. I've heard she's getting married, and knowing Annabelle, she'll be talking about it nonstop and probably won't even notice you're there."

Oh god, she is Annabelle! And wait, what?

"Getting married?! To the prick she's cheated on you with? And we're going to a dinner party with them?!"

She flails her hands in the air.

"So we are going then?" he pronounces slowly, and his smile grows wider.

"John!" she squeaks. "How's this the priority question right now?!"

He chuckles.

"She's getting married to a new bloke. The one she moved onto, after the one she cheated on me with. He works in my old firm too. That's her thing."

"Cheating?!"

"Architects," he answers, and apparently that's funny to him. He's giving her a white-toothed grin now.

"God, what is wrong with her? Doesn't she know about the 'don't foul in your nest' rule?!"

That earns her a guffaw from him.

"Is that the polite version of 'don't shit where you eat' one?" he asks after his booming laughter stops rolling in his kitchen.

"Well, I mean, how many architects are there in this city? Is she going through all of them?"

"Liv, it really doesn't matter. There's going to be plenty of other people there, and I like most of them. So, I was hoping you'd like to meet them. A couple of my footie mates will be there, and some other couple."

He finally picks up some food and places a forkful into his mouth.

She's giving it a thought. Apparently, it's that simple in his mind. He's pensively chewing his stew, waiting for her answer.

And she suddenly realises that it's quite an easy one. There he is, with his lovely dark beard, his warm blue eyes, and food funnily making his cheek stick out. She was jammy enough to meet a decent bloke, and he wants her to meet his mates. How's that an aggro?

"Sure. Let's meet your footie mates."

He smiles widely, and she takes a bite of his cooking. It's heavenly, and she moans quietly. It's just the perfect balance of sweet and spicy.

"Good?" he asks, one eyebrow predictably cocked up. Also the perfect balance of sweet and spicy.

She's starving. Also she was so stressed - and now she's not - so, after a few bites life seems so much better. She moans again, expressing her approval. He's staring at her lips. She, by now, knows this look.