Page 90 of How To Not Need You

His hand drops immediately. “Never been more confident in your emotional stability.”

“Smart man.”

“Occasionally.”

I kiss him once more because I can. That might be the most alarming development of all. I leave twenty minutes later with my jacket on, my bag over my shoulder and Mum’s recipe card tucked safely inside it.

Jake’s key clicks against mine in my pocket as I walk down the verandah steps.

Click.

Click.

I hear it all the way to the car. Ridiculous that something so small can be so bloody loud. I unlock the car and toss my bag onto the passenger seat, but instead of starting the engine, I sit there for a moment.

The house glows behind me. Warm light through the kitchen windows. A little blue glow coming from Tilly’s room farther down. Jake moves past one of the windows, disappears, then comes back carrying what looks suspiciously like the bread flower.

I smile. Mum used to say feeding people was how she showed love.

I used to roll my eyes whenever she said it. Mostly because she said things like that while putting another serving on my plate after I’d already told her I was full.

Apparently I’ve become her.

Great.

I made her goulash tonight. For Jake. For Tilly. Now I have a key to their house in my pocket. There really isn’t much plausible deniability left. I drop my head back against the seat.

“Well done, Liv.” Six months of refusing to say how I feel and apparently my solution is to demonstrate it through Hungarian food and cat care.

Very subtle.

I look back at the house. Mum would have liked Jake. I stare through the windscreen. She would have liked him. His steadiness. His stupid dry jokes. The way he listens when someone speaks instead of waiting for his turn. The way he looks at Tilly like she’s the best thing he’s ever done.

And Tilly?

God.

Mum would have been unbearable. She would have spoiled her rotten and denied it while actively handing her something she absolutely did not need.

I can almost hear her voice “They are good for you Livy.” The thought hurts. But not the same way it used to. There’s something warm tangled through it now. I start the engine before I can investigate that too closely.

Two days.

That’s it.

Three days until Tilly is back. Two days until Jake’s shift is over. Two days of working from my apartment, feeding a terrible cat and pretending I’m not counting down.

I pull away from the curb.

The key shifts in my pocket as I turn the corner.

And for the first time in a very long time, missing someone doesn’t feel like proof that I’ve made a mistake.

It just means there’s someone I want to come back to.

Chapter

Sixteen