‘So, small world, right?’ He grins toothily, determined to break the weird tension. ‘When I told Mark I’d met an amazing Greek girl who lived round the corner from where he grew up, he was gobsmacked.’ He turns to Mark. ‘Remember?’
Mark doesn’t react, but Theo is undeterred. ‘In fact, the first thing he said to me was, I hope her name’s not Nella. Ha ha! Imagine that!’
I blink, surprised by how much this stings. Even Mark stiffens.
I’m not remotely interested in my future brother-in-law, but is Mark still so angry about what I did to Leo, he’d flip out if a friend liked me?
Theo notices Mark’s stone-cold stare and stops, horrified. ‘Oh God, I forgot about that. I didn’t mean … I just meant, you know,you’d be analysing me all the time, and be all, so, let’s talk about the childhood trauma you experienced that makes you to leave the toilet seat up.’
Tig arrives and glares at him. ‘I’ll give you proper trauma if you do that.’
‘I was just making a joke. I didn’t mean to offend your profession. I’m just too much of an open book. Tig keeps telling me I need to stop being so sensitive. And thank God for that because, once—’
‘Theo, shut it,’ says Tig.
The therapist in me knows he’s trying to make an awkward situation easier, but the idea that my job might make any future boyfriend think twice is quietly terrifying.
The tense silence stretches. Mark rubs his forehead like he’s getting a headache.
Theo looks at me apologetically. ‘I just meant … I’m sure you’re wonderful and all, but not for me. I need someone to crack the whip.’
‘Babe, you’re digging the hole deeper and deeper,’ Tig mutters.
‘I’m starving – how long until dinner, Tig?’ I ask, cringing at my overly hearty tone.
‘I’ll go and check,’ she says.
Scared that Tig’s absence might rekindle the tension, I attempt some small talk.
‘So, you guys met at medical school in Leeds?’
Theo looks grateful for the lifeline, and for a moment, there’s something puzzlingly familiar in his expression.
‘That’s right, he was a couple of years above me, but we bonded on the second eleven football team.’
He looks at Mark, waiting for him to take up the story. ‘He’s the worst keeper I’ve ever played with,’ is all Mark offers.
I’m used to guys using banter to show affection, but in Mark’s case I’m not sure he doesn’t mean it as a straightforward insult.
‘That seems harsh,’ I say.
‘Oh no, Mark’s right. I was rubbish,’ Theo insists, without ego. ‘I was asthmatic as a kid, so playing keeper meant I could enjoy sports with my mates without getting out of breath.’
‘How were you with penalties?’ I ask.
‘Bloody useless,’ he grins. ‘That’s how we got talking in the pub after one of the first practices. Mark offered to take a load of penalties so I could improve.’
‘And did you?’
‘Nope,’ says Mark, without hesitation.
Again, Theo doesn’t seem to mind. ‘In the end, I realised watching football was much more my thing, but even then, Mark had to get me out of a close shave with some United fans at the pub once.’
‘At school, Mark’s hobbies revolved around the three “F”s: football, fighting and, well, I’m sure you can guess the third.’
Mark doesnotlook happy, and I’m secretly pleased.
Theo laughs. ‘Ha ha! Sounds about right.’
