”She pressed closer to me, clutching tight to my arm.We entered the restaurant, our reservation waiting. The maître d didn't bat an eye. My daughte... looked so grown up, so he must have assumed she's my date and not my daughter. That sent a wicked thrill through me. “Follow me, Mr. Young,” the maître’d said, a bright smile on his face. He led us through the restaurant. My daughter clung to my arm, trying to act adult even as I could feel her girlish energy animating her. We passed other couples. "I think I hate him, Mum." No," she laughed. "There's no hate in you Tommy. He was a nice man but..." So why didn't you marry him?"She sat down beside me and sipped at her drink."He said I was obsessed." With what?" With you," she said simply. "He said my only topic of conversation was the son I didn't know." Christ, Mum," I laughed, "Talking about me all the time must have bored the arse off him."We were quiet for a minute, then she got up and took my hand. "Come on, there's something I want. More

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