girl in the Muslim headscarf who had supported him at the funeral.
The girl’s soulful eyes widened. She was still wearing a headscarf, though her clothes today were much less formal. She had on a loose-fitting blouse and a long, dark skirt that divided into roomy pants. She stared at Eden uneasily.
‘Hello. My name is Eden. Flynn is expecting me.’
The girl lowered her gaze like a servant. ‘Mr Darby is in the living room.’
‘We haven’t met,’ said Eden. ‘I’m his stepdaughter. Eden Radley.’ She extended a hand, but the girl ignored it and bowed slightly.
‘My name is Aaliya Saleh. It’s nice to meet you.’
Just then, Flynn appeared behind Aaliya in the hallway ‘Let her in, Aaliya,’ he said. ‘This is my stepdaughter. She’s also the editor of my book.’
‘So I understand,’ said the girl, polite but unsmiling. She backed away from the door, and Flynn opened it for Eden to enter. She walked past him into the small, overly warm house.
‘Aaliya, if you don’t mind getting started on the bedrooms,’ he said.
Aaliya shook her head. ‘Not at all.’
Eden watched the girl disappear down the hall. Her clothes billowed around her, like dark sails. ‘That’s a helpful intern,’ she observed skeptically.
‘She has been helpful,’ said Flynn, ignoring her tone. ‘Come on inside.’
She edged past him in the hallway. He was wearing a stained gray T-shirt, ripped blue jeans and bare feet. He smelled tangy, sweaty. She felt slightly sick about the fact that she noticed his scent.
‘In here,’ he said.
The house smelled stale and there was an unfamiliar, heavy odor in the air. Eden wondered if it was some sort of residue from the carbon monoxide. She followed him into the living room, which was in a state of disarray, with half-packed boxes everywhere. There were framed photos leaning against the wall. Scribbled Post-it notes flapped on nearly every surface in the room.
‘When are you moving?’ she said.
Flynn ran his hand through his mop of dirty-blond waves and shook his head. ‘Not sure. I have to get a place first. God, you remind me of her,’ he said.
Eden froze and then glared at him. ‘I don’t look anything like her.’
‘You can’t see it,’ he said.
‘Let’s talk about something else,’ she said in a chilly tone.
Flynn shrugged. ‘Up to you.’
‘Where are you going to move?’ asked Eden, taking the seat on the sofa that he had indicated.
Flynn rubbed his unshaven face. ‘Back to New York, I guess. My grandparents want me to move back in with them, but that’s not going to happen. I’d have to be a full-time caretaker. I’ve had enough of that to suit me. I need a little more life around me.’
Having met Flynn’s grandparents, Eden doubted that they would want him to live with them for any reason. But obviously, he needed to believe that they would. ‘My mother said that they raised you,’ she said. She was thinking of that terrible story of Flynn, a helpless toddler alone in an apartment eating out of a cat food bowl.
Flynn shrugged. ‘You probably think I ought to be paying them back by being a nursemaid for them.’
‘I don’t think that,’ said Eden truthfully. ‘In fact, I was just thinking that you’ve had a lot of loss in your life.’
‘Happens to everybody,’ he said dismissively, and sat down on the sofa beside her. From down the hall, they could hear the sound of furniture being pushed across the floor, and jostled objects thudding against one another. Flynn had spread out his manuscript and Eden’s suggested changes on the coffee table in front of them. Then he reached into the pocket of his T-shirt and pulled out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. He lit one up and tossed the empty packet on the table. He reached down for an ashtray which was on the floor beside him.
‘You smoke in here?’ she asked.
Flynn glared at her. ‘Not when they were here,’ he said. ‘But they’re not here anymore.’
Despite the obvious
The girl’s soulful eyes widened. She was still wearing a headscarf, though her clothes today were much less formal. She had on a loose-fitting blouse and a long, dark skirt that divided into roomy pants. She stared at Eden uneasily.
‘Hello. My name is Eden. Flynn is expecting me.’
The girl lowered her gaze like a servant. ‘Mr Darby is in the living room.’
‘We haven’t met,’ said Eden. ‘I’m his stepdaughter. Eden Radley.’ She extended a hand, but the girl ignored it and bowed slightly.
‘My name is Aaliya Saleh. It’s nice to meet you.’
Just then, Flynn appeared behind Aaliya in the hallway ‘Let her in, Aaliya,’ he said. ‘This is my stepdaughter. She’s also the editor of my book.’
‘So I understand,’ said the girl, polite but unsmiling. She backed away from the door, and Flynn opened it for Eden to enter. She walked past him into the small, overly warm house.
‘Aaliya, if you don’t mind getting started on the bedrooms,’ he said.
Aaliya shook her head. ‘Not at all.’
Eden watched the girl disappear down the hall. Her clothes billowed around her, like dark sails. ‘That’s a helpful intern,’ she observed skeptically.
‘She has been helpful,’ said Flynn, ignoring her tone. ‘Come on inside.’
She edged past him in the hallway. He was wearing a stained gray T-shirt, ripped blue jeans and bare feet. He smelled tangy, sweaty. She felt slightly sick about the fact that she noticed his scent.
‘In here,’ he said.
The house smelled stale and there was an unfamiliar, heavy odor in the air. Eden wondered if it was some sort of residue from the carbon monoxide. She followed him into the living room, which was in a state of disarray, with half-packed boxes everywhere. There were framed photos leaning against the wall. Scribbled Post-it notes flapped on nearly every surface in the room.
‘When are you moving?’ she said.
Flynn ran his hand through his mop of dirty-blond waves and shook his head. ‘Not sure. I have to get a place first. God, you remind me of her,’ he said.
Eden froze and then glared at him. ‘I don’t look anything like her.’
‘You can’t see it,’ he said.
‘Let’s talk about something else,’ she said in a chilly tone.
Flynn shrugged. ‘Up to you.’
‘Where are you going to move?’ asked Eden, taking the seat on the sofa that he had indicated.
Flynn rubbed his unshaven face. ‘Back to New York, I guess. My grandparents want me to move back in with them, but that’s not going to happen. I’d have to be a full-time caretaker. I’ve had enough of that to suit me. I need a little more life around me.’
Having met Flynn’s grandparents, Eden doubted that they would want him to live with them for any reason. But obviously, he needed to believe that they would. ‘My mother said that they raised you,’ she said. She was thinking of that terrible story of Flynn, a helpless toddler alone in an apartment eating out of a cat food bowl.
Flynn shrugged. ‘You probably think I ought to be paying them back by being a nursemaid for them.’
‘I don’t think that,’ said Eden truthfully. ‘In fact, I was just thinking that you’ve had a lot of loss in your life.’
‘Happens to everybody,’ he said dismissively, and sat down on the sofa beside her. From down the hall, they could hear the sound of furniture being pushed across the floor, and jostled objects thudding against one another. Flynn had spread out his manuscript and Eden’s suggested changes on the coffee table in front of them. Then he reached into the pocket of his T-shirt and pulled out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. He lit one up and tossed the empty packet on the table. He reached down for an ashtray which was on the floor beside him.
‘You smoke in here?’ she asked.
Flynn glared at her. ‘Not when they were here,’ he said. ‘But they’re not here anymore.’
Despite the obvious
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