‘Daddy, can I have dough ballsandgarlic bread?’
I laugh and say, ‘Only if you share with me.’
I’ll ask Emma later. Not now.
I force my attention from thoughts of Emma to Thea and as always have a great evening with my daughter.
To my shame, though, after I’ve hugged her goodnight on her mum’s doorstep, I don’t even wait until I’m back in the car before pulling my phone out and opening Emma’s message.
I type as I walk along the pavement:
What did you lie about?
I get into the car and sit at the wheel for several minutes, waiting for Emma’s reply, but there’s nothing, so eventually I just drive home.
For the next couple of hours, I pounce on my phone every time it vibrates, until finally, as I’m getting ready for bed, I get a reply from Emma.
I didn’t get back with my ex.
My eyebrows nearly hit my hair. Oh my God.
That’s huge. Gigantic.
I’m smiling, I realise, just because she did not in fact get back with her ex. Does that make me a bad person?
I have a lot of questions.
Why did she lie about it this afternoon? And why is she telling me the truth now?
I wish we were in the same place because it would be a lot easier to gauge things face to face. And also, I’d really love to just be with her again, but that’s nothing new.
Why did you tell me that you did?
I type, and then delete it because it sounds curt and aggressive.
I think hard for quite a long time, and then write:
Are you okay?
I stare at my words for a bit and eventually decide that that’s the best I’m going to come up with, and send the message.
Emma replies almost immediately, while I’m still holding my phone, staring at it as though that will have some telepathic effect.
Her text says:
I’m a little confused.
I write:
What are you confused about?
I send it immediately before I can waste more minutes wondering whether it’s the right thing to say and possibly causing her to get bored and effectively end the conversation.
I’m confused about why you would ask me to go on a date.
I type:
It’s because I love you.
