“I’m fine. Just tired, I’m going to bed.”
When I get to my room, I crawl under the covers without even changing into my pyjamas. It’s not remotely comfortable, but I stay where I am. I pull the covers over my head and let the little voice remind me what a terrible person I am until I fall asleep.
There’s a soft knocking coming from my left.
“Rhys?” I call out. “Why are you knocking?”
“It’s me,” Connor says from the other side of Ivy’s bedroom door.
Not Rhys on the other side of our bedroom door back home. Though I suppose that’s not my home anymore.
“Oh, come in.”
Connor opens the door carefully.
“Sorry, I was half asleep. I got confused.”
“That’s okay.” He places a cup of tea on the bedside table for me. “I just wanted to check on you. And don’t you dare try to tell me you’re ‘fine’ again.”
He gives me a stern look when he sees me open my mouth to tell him just that.
“I’m not fine.” My voice cracks.
Connor sits next to me on the bed and puts his arm around me. I instinctively rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent. I always liked Rhys’s smell, even if it was a bit overpowering. But Connor’s scent is different. It’s subtle, unmistakeably masculine, but has the unexpected effect of instantly calming me down. My breathing evens out, my heart stops hammering in my chest, and I don’t feel quite so lost in my own head.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a few minutes of subtly sniffing Connor. At least, I hope it was subtle. “I’m okay now, really. Thanks for the tea.” I move to sit up, but the arm around my shoulders tightens and pulls me back towards him.
“You’re not going anywhere, Tilly. Talk to me.”
“Honestly, I’m fine…”
“I think you’re misusing the word ‘honest’ there,” he quips.“Look, you don’t have to talk to me if you really don’t want to, but I seriously think you should speak to someone. You’ve been through something major, you must be feeling so much, and it’s not good to keep it all to yourself.”
He’s right, of course. I am feeling so many things at the same time that I can’t keep track of it all, and I’m increasingly aware of the fact that I haven’t properly grieved for the end of my marriage. I’ve actually barely acknowledged it since it happened, and that both confuses me and fills me with shame. I spent seven years of my life with Rhys, and I’ve barely shed a tear since it ended.
That’s because you’re selfish.
And talking to Connor about my problems would be selfish. He’s doing enough by letting me stay here; he doesn’t need my drama too.
“I don’t really think I’m ready to talk about it.”
“Okay. How about getting shit-faced instead?” he suggests with a wicked grin.
I gasp in horror. “It’s a school night!”
“Not for you, it isn’t. Give me your phone.” He holds out his hand expectantly and I hand him my phone out of pure curiosity. It’s password protected anyway, so he can’t do any harm.
Or so I thought. Within seconds he’s cracked my passcode and is scrolling through my contacts.
“Your passcode is your birthday?” he scoffs with a grin. “Weak, Tilly.”
“What are you looking for?”
I’m starting to get a little worried now, so I reach for my phone, but Connor is quicker. He stands up, taking the phone with him.
“Aha!” he says to himself. He presses the phone to his ear. “Hi, is this Matilda’s headteacher?”
Oh, shit.My eyes widen and I lunge for the phone, but he wraps an arm around my waist to keep me away.
