‘Sam?’
I jump.
‘Just making breakfast,’ I call, my voice strained.
This isn’t my business. This isn’t something I should worry about.
So why does my heart feel heavy?
Am I just a barista to him? Someone who doesn’t have much going for him? Am I not good enough for Will after all?
He appears at the door, running a hand through his hair. He looks glorious, all naked and covered in body hair that I’ve trailed my fingers through.
‘Smells delicious,’ he says.
Then he stops, peering at me, the paper in my hand.
I stare back at him, caught in the act. ‘Um… I was just…’
‘Sam.’
‘It’s none of my business.’
The bacon hisses, and I hurry to the oven.
‘Sam.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Will,’ I say. ‘I’ve made us breakfast.’
Chapter Fifty-Five
WILL
Day Nineteen
Clothed, we eat in silence. Flavourful though the food is, I find it hard to chew, hard to swallow, sitting across from a silent Sam. He made me a coffee in silence, offered me salt and pepper in silence. When I make small conversation, he answers, but doesn’t engage.
My stupid fucking list.
Why the hell did I write such snobby thoughts? Why did I think I needed someone in some high-strung profession that earned them lots of acclaim? Because at the time, I thought that was what I wanted. I thought that was what I was supposed to work towards. I was thinking of others, and how they might react if I told them I was dating a university professor, or a lawyer, or a doctor, or someone who had studied for years to become something better. I looked down on people like Sam without realising it, and I know that’s what has upset him. It has to be. But he knows I want him, not Ollie. Doesn’t he?
‘Sam, are we going to talk?’
His cutlery clatters on the plate. ‘You don’t have to explain anything.’
‘But I can see it’s bothered you.’
‘Not at all.’
His tone is high, light, as if he’s trying to convince himself that there’s nothing wrong.
‘It’s a stupid list I made in therapy,’ I say. ‘I didn’t think anyone would ever see it.’
‘Cool.’
‘Sam, please.’
‘It’s fine, Will. I’m a barista and it doesn’t matter what I think.’
