‘She’d called the bank and pulled out a chunk of their super and was ringing places.’ She took a sip of her drink. ‘My mum hated the hospital. She went once when I was a kid, before the divorce. Dad kind of insisted, and it helped, I think, for a while, but she hated it and she was mad at him for months afterwards. And I got scared that if we did that, that if I did that, you’d hate me too.’

I wanted to tell her I wouldn’t, but I realised I didn’t know.

‘Maybe not forever. You’d get over it—but not in time.’ She looked away. ‘I just wanted you at my damn wedding. Maybe it was selfish, but I knew if we put you in hospital, you wouldn’t come, so I told her I’d take care of you. And I promised it would be okay, and that if it wasn’t, we’d do it. No arguments. But I wanted to try first.’

Lina looked small, and tired, but something else, too. Something I’d never really thought about. Determined. I felt a surge of awe.

‘I wanted you here. And now you are. But what if—’

‘Leen, you did the right thing. Thank you.’

She shook her head. ‘You’re the one who did it, Cait. Not me.’

‘Only because you helped me.’ I picked up my forgotten cocktail. The glass was wet and I nearly dropped it. ‘I’m so stupidly lucky.’

She raised an eyebrow.

‘I am.’ I took a sip. Too strong. ‘I’m lucky I have you. And I’m lucky it worked. I still think about it sometimes—I still have Thoughts, and I’m still scared—but it’s different.’

‘That’s good.’

‘I’m lucky to be here, I think. After the accident. After everything.’ I took a breath, felt it for the first time. Lucky. Grateful. Insanely grateful. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘Everything. Being my friend. Saving me.’

She picked up her cocktail and finished it off. ‘You saved me first.’

‘So we’re even.’ I laughed.

‘Yeah.’

I finished my own cocktail, wondered whether I should have another one, not really wanting to, but not ready to go to bed, for this part to end. We had to come again, I thought. Just us. Soon.

I put my glass down and looked around. There was a scattering of people in the bar, strangers, mostly couples. They’d all go home in the next two days, replaced by family, friends, more strangers. That thing sparked in my stomach again, bigger.

I stared at my empty glass. Thinking. About everything. ‘I miss him,’ I said slowly, a dull ache of need in my chest.

She looked at me. I couldn’t read her expression. ‘Do you?’

‘So much.’

She nodded, confirming a hunch.

‘I fucked up, Leen.’

She shrugged. ‘So fix it.’

‘How?’