Page 10 of You Were Always the One

I might be worrying about nothing. But it doesn’t add up. When work is everything to Miles, he would never just forget a business dinner. Clearly something’s going on he isn’t telling me about. But when I imagine trying to talk to him, I know what his reaction will be. Dismissive. Unable to understand why I feel the way I do. But Miles hasn’t ever really listened to me.

Fuelled by my doubts about Miles, I think about replying to Riggs. The house is in silence as I get out my phone. Bringing up the message he sent, I read it again, before typing my reply.

Hello! It was good to see you too! I can’t believe so much time has passed. It would have been nice to catch up. There was always so much to talk about! H x

I sit there a moment, thinking about Miles, then about Max and Grace. About the devastation I felt when I thought Miles was going to break our family up. How I couldn’t bear what it would do to our children. I read the message again. Then, realising what a hypocrite I am, before I change my mind, I delete it.

4

RIGGS

I am transfixed by my phone in a way I never have been as I wait for Holly to reply. But maybe she won’t, I tell myself. Maybe there’s nothing to say. Except we always had so much to talk about.

The following day, Emma gets ready to fly to Hurghada for work. She seems preoccupied, as though her mind is somewhere else, while now and then, I notice her watching me. Whatever’s going on, she keeps her thoughts to herself. But Emma isn’t one to stay quiet for long and when she comes into my study, she’s straight to the point.

‘Rigby? Do you have a moment?’

As her blue eyes gaze into mine, I feel the most crucifying sense of discomfort. ‘Of course.’ Suddenly I’m wondering if this is it. The conversation about us separating that I’ve sensed has been brewing. I get up. ‘Shall we have a cup of tea?’

‘I don’t want tea,’ she says abruptly. Then she looks at me. ‘I think we both know we can’t go on like this.’ She glances around my study. ‘I’ve never said this before, but don’t you think it’s time you thought about getting a job? I mean…’ She stops suddenly.

‘I mean, what?’ I ask.

‘I suppose what I’m trying to say is, don’t you want to earn more money? Life would be so much easier.’ She shrugs. ‘It isn’t like writing pays much.’

Emma is typically blunt. But it’s as though the rug has been pulled from under my feet, where instead of floorboards, there’s an abyss into which I am falling, helplessly, unable to save myself. I grab at the only lifeline I can think of. ‘That’s insane. I mean, writing is my job. I live at my desk,’ I stutter. ‘I live and breathe my work. My brain is plastered on this wall.’ I gesture to the Post-its stuck behind my laptop. ‘I’m not kidding. You are looking at practically my entire world.’

She shrugs. ‘It’s my money that pays for this place. If you were on your own…’

I freeze momentarily. So that’s where she’s going with this. But I guess it was always Emma who was going to make the first move. ‘Is that what you want?’ I say. ‘For us to break up?’

She sighs. ‘Not really. But it isn’t working, is it?’

Emma may not want tea, but suddenly I do. I’m unprepared; I need to think what I want to say. I walk through to the kitchen. But she’s right. It isn’t working. Switching on the kettle, I turn to look at her. ‘It isn’t, is it?’ I say quietly.

There’s no way of knowing if it’s what she expected me to say. Emma’s jaw is set as she nods. ‘I’ll move out after I come back from Hurghada.’

‘If that’s what you want.’ I wonder if she’s expecting me to try to talk her out of it.

But she just stands there. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’ She looks at me. ‘Like it really is over between us.’ She pauses. ‘Can I ask you a question? Have I missed something? Only it feels like your mind is somewhere else.’

She’s spot on – as she often is. But this has nothing to do with Holly. ‘Put it down to writing not going that well. And obviously, I’ve been preoccupied about us.’ I sigh. ‘You’re right. It does feel weird. The end of a marriage is sad.’ It feels horribly unsettling, too. But also, there’s an inevitability about it, because I’ve known for some time that Emma and I are not what we should be. We stand there, looking at each other.

‘We shouldn’t have done it, should we?’ she says in a small voice. ‘Get married, I mean.’

‘It didn’t feel like that at the time,’ I remind her. ‘And don’t forget. We were happy.’

‘Were we?’ Her eyes glitter with tears. ‘If I’m honest, I had doubts, even at the beginning. But I told myself you wouldn’t have proposed unless you loved me.’

‘I did love you. Do.’ I correct myself too late.

‘Don’t worry, Rigby,’ she says cynically. ‘I feel the same.’ She glances at her watch. ‘I need to go to work.’ Taking her tea, she goes upstairs.

I listen to the sound of drawers opening and closing, then her footsteps in the bathroom before, ten minutes later, she comes back downstairs, a feeling of guilt mixed with relief washing over me when she goes to work and I hear the front door close behind her.

I go back to my study. But as I stare at my laptop, a feeling of emptiness comes over me. Us breaking up is going to change things in many ways. I think back to what Emma said. It is her money that pays the rent on this house. I need to figure out what I’m going to do without her.

Sitting there, I think back to when Emma and I met; how, after a long time alone, I’d felt a whole new future open up. She was different to Holly. More ordered, less emotional – not in a bad way, but in a way that brought a sense of calm into my life.