Page 22 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

It’s Charlie.

I’m almost scared to answer it. Is him calling me a good thing? Has he realised he’s missed me more than words can say? Does he want me back? Or is it a bad thing? Were there some things he forgot to say to me when he dumped me? Is he calling to tell me a few more home truths?

Only one way to find out.

‘Charlie?’ But there’s no answer on the other end of the phone. All I can hear is some rustling and something that sounds like someone laughing underwater. ‘Charlie?’ I say again but there’s still no reply. I guess he must’ve pocket-dialled me. ‘Charlie!’ I shout this time and I must be loud enough for him to hear because there’s more rustling and then a breathless Charlie comes on the line.

‘Kitty?’ he says and his voice still makes me feel things no other man has ever made me feel.

‘Hi,’ I say, feeling suddenly shy. I can’t believe we’re talking.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he says. ‘I called you by accident. I don’t know how that … like I said, I’m sorry.’

‘That’s okay,’ I say. ‘I just wondered what you wanted.’

‘Nothing.’ He gives an awkward laugh. ‘I should take you off my favourites really. I’m sorry.’

Take me off favourites? God, he knows how to hurt me. It’s like a knife.

‘How are you?’ I say, not wanting him to end the call.

‘I’m all right,’ he says. ‘You?’

‘I’m not too bad,’ I say, even though I’m terrible. It’s not cool to let the man who obliterated your heart know that though. ‘I’m in LA!’

‘Oh right, that’s nice.’

I’m waiting for him to ask who I’m with. Maybe he thinks I’m with a man and it’ll make him so jealous he has to fly out here and beg me to get back with him. But he doesn’t.

‘I’m with Antoinette,’ I say. Jesus, I feel sorry for myself at this point. He literally doesn’t care who I’m with.

‘That’s great,’ he says, although he doesn’t sound like he really thinks that at all. ‘Doing some sisterly bonding?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Something like that. What have you been up to?’

‘Not much,’ he says. ‘Just quite busy with work. You know.’

It’s a weird thing for him to say because he knows I’ve never had a job in my life.

‘I miss you.’ It slips out before I even know it’s coming.

‘Kits, don’t do this.’

‘What? We can still be friends, can’t we?’ I don’t know why I’m saying this. I know there’s no way I could ever just be friends with this man. The thought of seeing him and not being able to touch him, not being able to kiss him, having to listen to him talk about other women … it just wouldn’t work. It would kill me.

But.

Is it better to have him in my life as a friend than as nothing at all?

There’s a long silence and then Charlie says, ‘Look, Kits, I have to go. I’m sorry I called you. I’m glad you’re doing okay though. Hope you have a great holiday.’

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Okay. Bye.’

‘Bye.’

And then the call ends.

I stare at my phone screen for a minute. I’m not sure why. I guess that I’m hoping he’ll call back and tell me that he misses me too. But the phone stays irritatingly silent. I’m just about to slip it back into my pocket when an iMessage notification pops up.