Last Night

Kieran greeted me with a kiss before sliding into the seat opposite mine. I struggled to put up a brave front as he recounted his meetings that morning. Halfway through the starter—tofu with edamame soybeans, he stopped talking abruptly, set down his glass, stared at me. His silence almost undid me. ‘Honey, what’s wrong?’ ‘Nothing.’ I sipped the barley tea and hoped it was vodka. ‘Did anyone tell you you have a lousy poker face? You are smiling, but your eyes are sad.’ He leaned in, scrutinising. ‘You’ve been crying.’ ‘Have I?’ I touched my cheek. ‘Must be the wasabi.’ ‘Amiyah.’ He sounded so stern, it reminded me of Beata. ‘Tell me.’ ‘What’s there to tell? Nothing happened.’ Could I tell him his beloved grandmother threatened me with her own life? Could I tell him it was killing me inside to be sitting here, forcing a fake smile, knowing this could be the last time we ever talked? I rose. ‘I need to use the restroom.’ ‘Sit,’ he ordered. ‘I really need to—’ ‘Amiyah, sit down.’ I did. ‘