“I won’t be long in the shower,” I call over my shoulder, trying to hide my tears. “Thanks again.”
I move on autopilot to the bathroom and turn the shower on to its hottest setting. I want it scalding. I want to feel the pain it causes. A quick look through the bags reveals some shampoo and conditioner, lavender shower gel, a toothbrush and make-up removing wipes. After giving my face a clean and brushingmy teeth, I strip quickly and jump into the shower, hissing at the heat but standing under the spray regardless.
I lather up my hair, rinse and repeat. I condition the ends. I soap my body, ignoring the feel of my squishy bits under my hand. By the time I’m done, I feel halfway human again and climb out, wrapping myself in a damp, musty towel. Once I’m dry, I pull out the pyjamas Rhys bought me. The trousers are pink, full-length and cotton, and the matching T-shirt has a picture of a sleepy cartoon dog drinking coffee. I follow them with the fluffy dressing gown and boot-style slippers. My body feels like it’s wrapped in a cloud, while my mind is still full of a thunderstorm.
Rhys is waiting for me in the bedroom when I walk in. As promised, there’s a cup of tea and a plate of toast on what used to be my side of the bed. Rhys is lying on his side, already stripped down to his boxers. His chest, though not as tanned as it used to be, is still toned and inviting.
“Feeling any better?” he asks as I sit down and nibble on a piece of toast.
“A bit, thanks. Have you seen my bag? I should probably message Connor to let him know where I am.” I feel Rhys tense beside me when I say Connor’s name.
“Why? Are you sleeping with him?” His annoyance is clear in his tone, though he has no right to accuse me.
“No, I’ve just been staying at his house. In a separate room,” I add. “He’s Ivy’s brother, I’ve known him since I was little.”
We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes while I force down some toast and a few mouthfuls of tea. I expect Rhys to ask more questions or make a snarky comment, but he doesn’t.
“So, have you seen my bag?” I was in such a daze when I arrived, I can barely remember walking in through the front door, let alone where I put down my bag.
“No. But he’s probably asleep by now anyway, it’s 1:00 a.m.Just text him tomorrow.”
I contemplate getting up to find my phone myself, but I realise he’s right. Connor won’t be bothered about me not coming home. He might even have gone straight to sleep without even noticing I wasn’t there.
“You’re right. I’m just going to go to sleep and deal with it in the morning.”
I turn back the covers, climb in and take a deep breath of what I was hoping would be the familiar smell of home, but instead I can only smell the stale bedding. Has Rhys changed the sheets at all since I left? I make a mental note to change and wash them tomorrow, along with the towels. It’s the least I can do.
Seconds later, Rhys clicks off the light and curls up behind me, his arm snaking around my waist, pinning my body close to his. He doesn’t seem to mind my still-damp hair as much as he used to and, surprisingly, takes a heady sniff of the apple shampoo.
“It’s good to have you back, Muffin,” he whispers.
Chapter 16
Try again
I wake up the next morning to the sun shining brightly through the curtains. Ordinarily, this would have been an ideal way to wake up on a Saturday, but on this particular Saturday, the brightness hurts my eyes and makes my head pound harder than it already is, which in turn makes my stomach roll around like a washing machine. I’m so focused on breathing through the nausea and pain that it takes me a few minutes to remember where I am and, more significantly, who I’m in bed with.
Rhys’s arm is still wrapped around me, and his head is resting half on his pillow and half on mine. Careful not to wake him, I creep out of bed, throw on my dressing gown and slippers and head downstairs in the hunt for painkillers.
As I descend the stairs, I think about last night. How did things change so drastically in such a short space of time? At the start of the night, I was feeling good, almost confident even, but self-doubt had crept in and festered in my already malfunctioning brain. Somehow, that led to me ending up backin my old bed, my old house, my old life. It would be so easy to just slip back into our old routine.
Passing the couch on the way to the kitchen, I spot my handbag, half-hidden under a cushion. I pull out my phone and turn it back on. As it’s setting itself up, I go to the kitchen, wash a glass when I can’t find a clean one, and down a couple of painkillers with a pint of water. My phone buzzes the entire time as it catches up with messages I’ve missed. Probably just Vi and the gang updating the work group chat with pictures and videos of their night out. It’s not unusual to have dozens, even hundreds, of selfies from them after a few drinks together.
Glass drained, I can’t ignore it any longer – it’s time to face reality. I type in my passcode and stare wide-eyed at my notifications. Messages from Connor, Violet, Tim and Seren appear. My breath hitches as I notice sixty-three missed calls. I click on my call log and see that eleven are from Vi, three each from Seren and Tim, and forty-six from Connor, the most recent being only an hour ago.
I go back to the living room and settle on the sofa to read the messages. The earliest are from a new group chat called ‘WHERE THE FUCK IS MATILDA?’.
VIOLET
Tilly, where did you go?
Are you in the loo?
Not in the loo, you outside?
Seren
Answer your phone, Matilda! I’m fed up of playing hide and seek in a packed bar
