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‘Maybe? Did something happen?’
‘Sorry, just .?.?.’ I sigh. ‘It’s – everything really. I know you think I shouldn’t care, and I shouldn’t worry, but I spoke to Chloe, and .?.?. and Owen, he—’
‘I saw him out there, with you.’
‘It was nothing,’ I rush out; a giant blurt of words with no spaces between. ‘It was just him, chatting, and talking about the wedding and everything and .?.?.’ I look up at him; meet his eyes. A sigh heaves out of me. ‘I saw you with Jess.’
Jack gives a single nod. Unreadable. ‘Yeah. I was going to come over, but .?.?.’
‘I really wish you would have,’ I say, and the words coming out of me feel like a relief. Because it’s the truth. And I feel like I always speak truths with Jack, almost despite myself. I really do wish he had come over. Stepped through the darkness by that table and the dark glass of the lake. And this feeling, with Jack – it’s scary and safe, all at once. Like something you know is good for you, but the leap to get there feels vast and wide and scary.
Jack steps forward, gently. ‘I’m here now,’ he says, deeply.
I can’t step back now, I’m against coats, the wall of the alcove, and I wouldn’t want to, anyway, if I could.
And now he’s right in front of me.
I can smell him – his hot shower smell, aftershave on his warm skin, and I can feel the heat of him. His warm, muscular leg presses gently against mine, and for a moment, I can hardly bear to look up at him, from the opening of his shirt, the taut, ridged skin. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and I meet his eyes, syrupy and intense. He is so close. Heat pools in my stomach, moves lower, and lower. My eyes close for a second, and a vision of me grabbing his hips, pulling him into me, pushing my mouth onto his, holding his bottom lip between mine, barrels its way into my mind.
I open my eyes, and his gaze is already on me – stuck to me. That crackle, that tug between us that I’d felt seeing him yesterday, outside that pub, only now larger than ever. A magnetic force, pulling and pulling us closer.
The music blurs into the background and all I can hear now is our breathing; his, deep and husky, mine fast, light, like moths in my throat .?.?.
His hand moves to my jaw, a light graze of rough fingertips, and he tips my face up, to look at him. Jack’s lips are so close to mine, I can feel the warmth of them, can smell the whisky on him.
He’s going to kiss me.He’s going to kiss me.All I want is for him to kiss me—
And then the door swings open.
A huge, sudden squeak, and out explodes a group of squealing, screeching party guests, tripping and holding onto each other, like bowing inflatables. More follow. Someone shouts, ‘Car’s here!’
I jolt –freeze.We both do. No.No no no.
‘Fuck,’ Jack whispers and against him, I practically wilt. And against my mouth, he smiles slowly, and says, croakily, ‘Another .?.?. time, I guess?’
And I can’t even speak. I just nod, rigidly, my skin surging, pimpling with goosebumps.
‘When you least expect it,’ he says. And before my brain kicks back into gear so I can move, speak,anything, he’s moving away from me, walking off.
But just before he disappears through the door, Jack turns around and looks at me with such intensity, and a tiny gasp leaves my mouth.
Cate is going to die.
That’s if I don’t die first.
Chapter Seventeen
Text message from Dad:Hi darling, are you around this morning? I was hoping I could come over and we could go for a walk? Dad x
*
I have never been more grateful for Cate and Ralph than in this moment. The party with Jack last night has left me feeling more giddy, morealivethan I have been in a long time, and so far, Cate and Ralph have spent the entire Sunday morning eating French toast I made, while extracting meticulous details from me about the whole night, (and mostly via Cate, who is interviewing me with such excitement, it’s like I’m a sailor who has just completed a Guinness World Record Breaking solo trip).
And I’m grateful really, for the distraction. Dad is coming over, and I really don’t know what to expect. It could be totally fine. It could be totally not. Look at Alexis’s parents. Her mum left her dad – left themall– when her dad, Salv, was in his sixties. She started again; went back to chapter one despite almost being at the denoument of her life. She even re-married.
‘OK, so, do it on me,’ Cate says, jumping up from next to Ralph, who watches, smilingly, from behind his black coffee at the breakfast bar. I’m making a flask of tea for Dad and I, like Mum used to, when I was young. There are plenty of places to get tea around here, but a flask, the beach – I want the nostalgia of it. To remind Dad, when he might need it the most, to remind me too, of the nice times we had as a family, that, ofcourse, we can get back there, because it was just a stupid lie. A little blip.
Cate positions herself flat against the fridge. ‘‘Let’s pretend the fridge is all the coats. So, you were here, like this?’ Cate is practically juddering with excitement, like a pipe about to burst.
