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“So now I’ve got to drive all the way back to Watford in that shitty storm?”

An explosion of rain hits the windowpane then, like sarcastic applause aimed squarely at me.

I stare back at Melissa, think of all the times she’s driven up the M1 to see me. Of my never returning the favor because I hate being away from home. Of her accepting all my quirks, rarely questioning my behavior.

Arrangement or no arrangement, Melissa’s given me way more than I’ve ever given her.

I sigh. “Of course not. Of course you can stay. I just need to—”

She smiles sardonically. “Don’t blow her off on my account.”

A moment passes.

“Listen, Melissa... nothing can happen tonight. Between you and me.”

Her smile expands, like I’ve just said something adorable. “Oh, you’re being all principled and everything.”

“Hardly.” I look down at my feet.

“I thought you were never going to have a relationship. I thought no-strings was all you ever wanted.”

“It was, but then...” Faltering, I catch her eye at just the wrong angle.

There’s a long pause.

“Well, she must be really special” is all she says. Then she sparks up a fag, heads into the kitchen to help herself to wine.

27.

Callie

Once I’ve shut the door on what I’ve seen, I wrap myself up in my most comforting wool cardigan and weave my hair into a plait. Then I tip a small shot of whisky into my seabirds-of-Scotland mug—the nearest clean receptacle—attempting to savor the burn as I sling it slightly tragically back.

Then, a knock on the door.

Cautiously, I open it.

“I’m so sorry, Callie.” Joel looks wretched. “I had no idea she was coming.”

He’s slipped on jeans and a T-shirt now, and his hair’s roughed up, like he’s just rubbed a towel across it. I try not to picture the way he looked downstairs when I knocked—warm and bare-chested, breathing hard, wanting me.

Or so I thought.

“It’s okay.” I permitted myself a few silent tears over the whisky, and now I’m worried Joel can tell. “I did know about her, and I chose to ignore it.” All the signs were there, I guess, but to me he just didn’t seem the type.

“No, Melissa and I... we’re not together. Honestly. What we have is just... it’s...”

As his words sputter into stillness, I realize I’d been hoping he would have something more mitigating to say.

He tries again, voice low. “I said Melissa could stay. Just for tonight. She’s had a long drive. But I promise you, nothing will happen.”

I blink back memories of hearing them together, the night of Halloween. “You really don’t need to—”

“No, Callie, I like you a lot—”

I cut him off with a nod but say nothing, because I’m not really sure what that means anymore.

Above our heads, rain pummels the stairwell skylight, like it’s trying to get in.