Page 61 of One Last Thing
Or is it weird to laugh about it?
I hate my brain.
‘Yes,’ he says, as heat burns through my face. ‘Would you believe me if I told you it was your dad’s idea?’
I snort before I can stop myself. ‘No. Because it wasn’t. It was yours. I remember you telling me about it when . . . uh—’ I swallow nervously, looking at the table‘—when we were kids. You said you wanted to throw a big party.’
‘I talked about it. It was Henry who told me to do it,’ he explains. ‘I told him that it would be a lot of work, a lot of planning, a lot of money and risk—’ he breathes out the air in his cheeks and shrugs‘—but your father told me that in his life something good had always come out of something bad. So even if it failed, I would be glad I tried.’
I let his words sink in, lifting my glass to my lips. ‘Sounds like good advice from someone who isn’t putting his own money at risk.’
Nico chuckles. ‘True. But I like what he said. I think it’s a good way to think.’
‘Maybe. It’s a comforting way to think.’
‘He said that when you were two, you went through a phase of saying, “Why not?” to everything,’ he reveals with a playful smile.
‘What?’ I say in surprise. ‘I don’t remember this.’
‘He said you had heard Dawn say it and you didn’t understand what it meant, but you kept saying it in response to everything. “Why not?” It made no sense when you said it, but it made him laugh. He thinks that’s why you kept repeating it.’
I break into a grin. ‘Really? He never told me that.’
Nico shrugs. ‘He told me that he tried to use it as much as possible in his own life decisions. Little Megan would say “Why not?” So . . . why not? He said I should do the ball, because why not?’
‘Huh.’ I nod slowly, tilting my wine glass towards him. ‘So technically you’ve been inspired byme.’
He holds up his hands. ‘Yes. Technically. Two-year-old Megan.’
‘So young but so wise.’
‘A natural leader.’
‘Why not? That’s what I say.’
‘Absolutely,’ he says, breaking into a smile. ‘Why the hell not?’
He gazes at me intently. When he looks at me like that, I feel like I can’t breathe. I’ve been here before, so mesmerised by him that everything else turns into a blur, fading away to nothing while something glowing and sparkling swirls inside of me, lighting me up. It’s funny how, that evening in the ballroom, I remember desperately thinking,please don’t forget one moment of this, how he looks, how his eyes are shining, how his hair needs a cut, how he smells, how it feels to be this close to him, the taste of champagne on his lips.
But moments like that don’t need to be committed to memory like revision for an important exam. They’re etched into your mind forever and even when you don’t think on them for a while, they’re still engrained in there somewhere, never really lost. They can come flooding back to you in vivid detail whenever they choose to without you calling on them and you’re happily lost in the moment once again.
Nico clears his throat and checks his watch. ‘I should get back to work soon. So.’ He glances up at me expectantly. ‘Are you ready?’
‘For you to go?’ I ask, confused.
‘For some ghost hunting,’ he clarifies, amused. ‘I did promise I wouldn’t wuss out.’
20
DAWN
It’s one of life’s shitty facts that you always bump into the last person you want to see when you’re having a bad moment. It’s infuriating and tiresome and it happens to us all. I should have known it would be her to find me amongst the vines writhing in pain: the chances were fairly high that Françoise might be wandering about the place somewhere, but still, it also could have been a great many other people. But it isn’t anyone else. It’s her.
‘What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’ she says, rushing over and kneeling down beside me, taking my arm.
‘I’m fine,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘I just . . . I need help getting up.’
‘What happened?’ she asks, gripping me tightly as she lifts me onto my feet.
