Page 81 of Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye

“The park has gone through a lot of change since 1869…”

I don’t care about the bowling green or how many trees have knees. Like that’s a thing! Damn trees—they make me think of Leia. Tarquin huffed. So, what’s the point of all this, anyway? It’s like Dex’s playing hooky on my dime, roping me in as his wingman. Sorry, mate, but Ferris Bueller you ain’t!

A few cyclists peddled past and a roving gang of Canada geese waddled up ahead, but the park’s faded greenery, closed café, and deserted playground did little to boost Tarquin’s mood.

“Isn’t this great? We’re killing two birds with one stone.” Dex side-eyed the geese, honking their displeasure at passing cyclists. “Chill, guys! I didn’t mean that literally.” He twisted the cap back and forth on his bottle of sparkling water and snickered to himself. “So! Tarquin! This is walk-and-talk therapy! Some clients tell me it’s more relaxed and productive than being sat inside.”

Yeah, ’cause they don’t have to stare directly into your weirdness. Tarquin tugged his burgundy beanie over his cold ears. Maybe I should change therapists…

“Back in my office, you mentioned your mates.” Dex led the way into a sunken garden with an unparalleled view of the park’s lake. Shaped like a semicircle, the commemorative terrace featured benches, vine-entwined pergolas, and dormant flower beds. “Socializing with friends is excellent self-care. It’ll help with your other goal, too—inviting love into your life.”

Oh, bollocks! He’s not going to ask about my parents again, is he? Tarquin trudged down the four shallow steps and gulped his coffee, the lukewarm bitterness intensifying his wince. Believe me, I get how the whole ‘absent mother-thing’ makes me crave loving relationships.

Dex moved aside, allowing a mouth-breathing jogger to trot past before continuing, his voice low, keeping Tarquin’s predicament between them. “A committed relationship will be easier to find when you’re out enjoying what life has to offer. Speaking of, on Monday you mentioned a date that took place a few days earlier—with Leia, wasn’t it?” Dex flashed his Cheshire Cat grin. “Aahh, now that’s a name, huh!”

Of course he remembered her. She’s unforgettable. A tight smile stretched Tarquin’s lips.

“Tell me about it,” said Dex.

Tarquin spilled all the highlights—except sex on Tower Bridge. A hollow ache swelled in his chest. I miss her giggle. I miss her.

“Sounds like a wonderful evening,” said Dex, passing a metal sundial missing its shadow due to the afternoon’s thick cloud cover.

“But she’s gone back to America now. She left a week ago today.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. How are you coping?”

Tarquin dragged a hand across the stubble on his chin. “It’s been…difficult.” Eyes drifting upward, a glint of silver piercing the clouds caught his attention, an airplane circling, waiting to land. “Leia’s special. I thought maybe she…” He shook his head, his stare falling to the stone pathway beneath his Tom Ford leather brogues. Fuck, I hate being vulnerable like this, admitting I’m not some stoic rock of a man who shakes off loneliness and disappointment like a rugby tackle. He blew out his cheeks. “I’ve been working all hours, trying not to think about her, but…I can barely think of anything else.”

Dex made a sad face. “Let’s stop here for a minute.” He leaned on the garden’s cement railing overlooking the lake. “It’s tough, what you’re going through. Sometimes we think if we push painful feelings away, we’ll be able to deal and move on much faster. But when we shove them aside, they tend to fester and create anxiety, which tricks us into adopting coping mechanisms or self-soothing behaviors that can have dangerous consequences…things like drugs and drinking.”

I know this already. I’ve learned the hard way—multiple times. Tarquin cleared his throat and set his coffee on the railing. “Look, Dex, I know the drill, okay? Yes, I’ve had a drink or two, but—”

“Only two?”

Shit. Caught out. Tarquin frowned. “Okay, I might’ve… drowned my sorrows in a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé 1959.”

“Yowza!” Dex’s eyes bulged behind his glasses. “How’d you get your mitts on that? I know vintages, and that’s a rare beast.”

“My Scottish grandfather. He meticulously collected limited-edition champers from around the globe. When he died, he left a magnum to each grandkid, set aside until we turned twenty-one. We were supposed to share them with our future spouses when we got hitched…” A playful smirk bent Tarquin’s lips. “Whoops.” He did a double take, detecting a sympathetic wince on Dex’s face. “But that’s it for self-soothing. No drugs, no gambling—that’s the old me. Right now, I’m barely making it out of bed, mate. Thank god my office is just a sleep-deprived stumble away from my flat.”

“Well, hold up there, cowboy!” The therapist tipped his water bottle in Tarquin’s direction. “Overworking is just another unhealthy way to self-soothe. Diving into our jobs so our brains get lost in the minutia while what’s bothering us gets buried—that can perpetuate depressive episodes, too.”

He’s onto me. Tarquin tugged on the cuff of his sweater’s sleeve poking out from his coat. His thumb popped through a small hole. Fuck.

Dex rested his water bottle on the cement railing. “So, what’s the emotion you’ve been feeling the most since Leia left?”

“That’s easy: sadness, hopelessness.” Tarquin sucked in a breath and glared at a pair of swans swimming side by side. “My dismal track record with women strikes again.”

“How is it dismal?”

Do we really have to go there? Can’t we just agree? I’m a fucking failure! “I’m alone, aren’t I?” Tarquin snapped back. “I’d call that dismal.”

“Well, tell me how you got here.” Dex scratched at his pork pie hat.

Flippin’ hell. This is like talking about my sex life with someone’s hipster dad. Tarquin exhaled heavily. “I’ve been with lots of women, okay? I started young. You know, the usual—snogging behind the school at age eight, sex by the time I was fourteen.” I hate this, explaining myself. “Not to sound bigheaded, but I didn’t have to work for female attention. Blame my family’s wealth, I suppose.”

Dex pouted. “Come on! You’re an intelligent, fun, attractive fella, Tarquin. There’s more to you than your account balance, and you know it.”