Her chest started to hurt and she kept swaying, almost feeling something, almost. That was the thing. Casey wasn’t crying right now. It was a child someplace faraway. Nobody would ever understand that. It wasn’t her fault.

She’d hoped Scott might take the bait, come to her, hold her. It would make it all the sweeter when she revealed the truth.

Scott stared. “Am I allowed to start eating yet?”

“Yes.” She grabbed some kitchen towel and dabbed her eyes, and then sat down. “Let’s eat.”

“Was that real?” Scott picked up his cutlery.

“What an odd question.”

“Right.”

“Love you.” She smiled. “Aren’t you going to say it back?”

He looked at her miserably. “I love you too.”

“How sweet. Go on then. Before it gets cold.”

He waited until she started to eat. He thought she was going to poison him; or he wanted to make it seem that way, a juvenile protest. She shrugged and tucked in, forking a potato slice and a piece of chicken, chewing enthusiastically. That was one good thing she got from her childhood. She became a decent cook, even if she didn’t particularly enjoy it. Her dad had been terrible in the kitchen.

Casey had forgotten something. “Scott, can I use your phone for a second? Mine’s dead.”

He grinned. She read the message. It was like, Ah, so we’re not pretending with everything. She took his phone, opened it, and made sure he wasn’t recording her. She’d often randomly search him. But she decided to leave it. He knew better than that, surely.

Casey carried on eating, trying not to watch Scott too eagerly. Finally he pierced a bit of meat and put it in his mouth. She’d made the sauce thick, cloying, so it would stick to everything, making it difficult to tell what was what.

Scott chewed and swallowed, then went on eating. Casey supposed that made sense. A lot of taste happened in the mind. It didn’t matter. She’d let him eat as much as he could handle.

“So how was your day?” she asked.

His fork paused in its path to his mouth, just for a moment. “Fine. Same old, same old.”

“I hope none of the students gave you any problems.”

He shook his head. “No, all good.”

“Well, that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

They ate quietly for a time, as the song changed and changed again. Scott had almost finished his dish. He probably wanted to get this over with.

“I went by the school today, actually,” Casey said.

Scott’s fork clattered in the bowl. Sauce spattered his shirt. “Oh.”

“It was so strange. I had a cheeky look in your classroom. It’s so well-situated for surprise visits, isn’t it? A street-facing beauty, so easy to check in.”

“Yeah.” He opened and closed his hand, the burned bandaged one, not the ugly-as-fuck one with the missing pinkie finger. “I guess it is.”

“You weren’t there.”

Casey regretted not smoking a little, at least. She should’ve been laughing, or at least holding back laughter. Or she should’ve wanted to laugh. But there was nothing, the barest flickering ember. All day she’d looked forward to this. And now it seemed like a big anti-climax.