“Did you know that a cockerel’s testicles are influenced by the sun?”

Tyler nearly dropped his pint. “Come again?”

“It’s true. They shrink and grow with the seasons.”

He laughed, shaking his head and making the sound bounce off the low ceiling. “Alcohol clearly loosens your tongue.”

“Maybe it just stops me from caring so much about what people think.”

He was looking at her again, in that way she couldn’t quite make sense of. As if she were some kind of anomaly, a person who did not quite tally with the image he had carried around in his head for so long.

“Do you have any traditions?” he asked.

“Like Christmas?”

“More a good luck charm. Or a way of making yourself remember a certain person, a particular day.”

Emily always said good night to her parents. She would touch her lips to her fingers, then place them on the windowpane in her room every night before she went to sleep. She would gaze out at the heavens, seeking out a star and sending a wish to her parents, wherever they may be. A tiny ladybird kept in a box, in a treasure chest under her bed. Along with a four leaf clover, a bumblebee, and a chain of daisies. From a summer long ago.

Traditions? No. Memories? More than she wanted.

“Here.” Tyler reached into the front pocket of his jeans, took out a small paper bag, and slid it along the bar to her.

“What’s this?” No one ever bought her anything, other than her grandmother, but she didn’t really count.

“Call it a reminder of this trip.”

Emily reached inside the paper bag, took out a pair of earrings in the shape of golden stars.

“Thank you.”

“I saw them in Paris and thought they would suit you. Bring out the flecks of gold in your eyes.”

She had no idea how to respond to his kindness.

“I need to tell you something.”

Emily felt her throat tighten at his words.

“There’s more than one reason why I’m here.”

Emily swirled her drink around the glass, avoided looking at Tyler as he spoke. She heard him take a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say, and she was grateful for his nerves, because it meant that he did care, if only a little.

“Dad cut me out.”

“Your mum said she convinced him not to.”

“Not entirely. At least, not until I can prove to him I’m not a total loser.”

Emily considered his response, allowing the truth to settle in her mind before replying.

“So it’s about money.”

“Yes. No. I mean at first, for sure. But I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you again, and Paris was fun, wasn’t it?”

She tried to stifle a smile as she found herself to be nowhere near as angry, or disappointed, as she might have been only days before.

What’s changed? she wondered. Was it really as simple as sharing a moment, creating a memory with someone new?