Page 56 of Liquids

I sink down on the bed, my smile fading. Oh, no. No. No. No. Not a smart idea, Carl. That wasn’t supposed to happen. My love for Mark was like a living thing. I can still feel the gritty carpet beneath my shoulder, still see his booted foot coming toward me, Dray laughing in the background saying, “Kick the bitch harder, Mark.”

I can’t do this. I really can’t do this. My hands flutter to my knees.

Rig is whistling as he cooks, and I close my eyes, then open them again and focus on the sunlight seeping around the edge of the blind. He’s whistling ... “Shake It Off”? I would not have pegged him as a Swiftie. I pull my sweater over my head and walk back to the kitchen.

“Taylor Swift?”

“What, babe?” he says, turning to look at me, and he groans. “Not that sweater.”

I glance down at myself. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

He steps toward me, glowering. “I fucked you in that once when you were wearing nothing underneath.”

I look down at the pale-blue wool. Oh, shit. Yeah.

I race back to the bedroom and find another one in the back of my drawer that I’m sure he’s never seen before, and head back to the kitchen.

“The song was on in the helo on the way from the rig to shore. Very catchy,” he says, swinging his hips and grinning at me.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Happy to be home. Safe and sound. Not standing in a howling gale. Where’s this drawing you were doing when we FaceTimed?”

I’ve done loads of him since the first one, mostly from memory. The one I sketched that night is probably the worst. I bring the sketchpad through and show him the picture I drew while he was on the call with me.

“It’s good, babe. I like it.” He wipes his hands on a dish towel that’s stuck in his waistband and takes the pad from me. “Take over the cooking, yeah?”

He sits down at the kitchen table and starts leafing through the pictures. “These are fucking awesome. You could sell these, no question.”

“Especially this.” He holds up a drawing I did from memory: a view of him from behind as he walks into the shower. I’ve drawn it close up and half out of the frame, his butt and back muscles in sharp focus.

I laugh. “You don’t mind if I sell naked drawings of you?”

He waves a hand. “If you make money out of it, be my guest. You gotta get something good out of this troublemaker who keeps turning up at your door.” He winks at me.

“I did get something good out of it,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Amazing sex, right?” he says and then closes his eyes.

I put the bacon and egg on the bread and bring it all over to the table, sinking into the seat opposite him.

“You were good to me,” I say.

His eyes roam over my face. “I’d like to carry on being good to you,” he says in a rough voice, and my heart aches.

“I understand that Rig, but …”

“I didn’t love Sadie,” he says suddenly.

“What?”

“Convinced myself at the time: What we had was okay, and she did a lot of stuff for me. I was grateful, but looking back, I don’t think … That’s not what love is.” He stares at me. “It isn’t gratitude. It’s loving someone so much they make your chest ache.”

Oh, God, does he know? Does he know that I love him? I clear my throat as he lifts his chin.

“Did you feel like that about Mark?” he says.

I sink my teeth into my sandwich and chew, thinking as I swallow. “It’s all twisted up inside. I can’t believe I did because I was so angry. I’m still so angry, really. But perhaps I did. Ugh. Can’t go there.” I take another bite and a sip of coffee. “I loved Charlie, though.”