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Gemma and I have met plenty of times, albeit briefly, mostly at the doorstep when picking up Rick for work or dropping him off after a shift. Never socially, on account that Rick and I have never mixed socially, either. I realise now how foolish I’ve been to discount Rick’s friendship on that basis. I couldn’t have turned to a mere colleague like I have tonight, and only a friend could have offered so much compassion.
“Of course I do,” she answers, tutting. “Has something happened? You both look awfully serious.”
“Will needs to stay with us for a few days. He can take the sofa, right?”
I watch her eyes flicker, but I don’t think it’s in a bad way. More…surprise. “Y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Is there some trouble at home?”
I can’t stop the grimace from appearing on my face. “You could say that, yeah.”
“Understood. Have you eaten? Do you need some dinner?”
“Oh, no. No. Thank you, but I just need a place to sleep.”
Gemma slaps her knees, stands up. “Well, get Rick to show you the kitchen. Eat, drink, whenever you want. I’ve got to get the kids ready for bed and then I’ll bring you some bedding and pillows down.”
“Thanks, Gemma,” I say, smiling with gratitude. “I really appreciate it.”
So now I have somewhere to sleep for a few nights, I just need to figure out where I’m going to live permanently and how I’m going to break my kids’ hearts. Oh, and where I’m going to work, as I’ve been so wrapped up in Laurence and the emotional turmoil that comes with him, the impending end of principal photography failed to register on my radar.
Laurence.
I also need to see Laurence. Hear his voice, feel his skin.
But not before I’ve fixed my family.
Wait for me.
I’m sitting at Rick and Gemma’s breakfast bar the next morning when the semblance of a future I’ve conceived falls apart. The morning starts well, under the circumstances. I rise early, fold my bedding and erase any trace of my lodging before the family wake. Then, I help Gemma with the kids’ breakfast, making them cereal topped with faces made from fruit, which Gemma gives me far too much praise for. Eventually, I sit down to my own food once Gemma has left for the school run and Rick for work, with the promise to keep schtum in front of Ben regarding my…situation.
With no one to talk to as I eat my toast, I idly scroll through the social media apps. I’m sure I feel my heart stop, just for a moment, when Laurence’s face lights up Twitter. There he is, eyes to camera, to me, dressed in a blue suit with peaked black lapels, his hair styled to perfection. Below is another photo, a hand in his pocket this time, his hip tilted. Beautiful. Flawless to those who’ve never been close enough to kiss him. But I know about the scar above his eye. I’ve felt the jagged edge of his back tooth on the tip of my tongue.
I’m still staring at him when I hear the front door open. I close the app quickly, place my phone face down next to my plate.
Gemma comes through to the kitchen, shoulders sagging. “Hear that?” she asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “Peace. Three glorious hours of it, until I need to get Ruby from nursery.”
I smile. Finish my toast.
“Did you sleep okay?”
Not at all. “Great. Thank you, again.”
“No problem,” she says, filling the kettle at the sink. “Hey, Will?” she adds, tone floating a notch higher as she sets the kettle on the dock, flicking the switch.
“Yeah?”
“Look, don’t be mad with Rick, but he told me why you’re here and—”
“You’re his partner, Gemma,” I feel compelled to interrupt, to reassure her. “I’d never ask him to keep secrets from you.” No matter how awkward I suddenly feel. In fact, I’m certain my cheeks are hotter than the steam rising from the spout of the kettle.
With a frown saturated with pity, Gemma pulls up the stool next to me. “Well, I know Rick, obviously, and I don’t imagine he was all that great on the support front. So, here I am.”
My smile is genuine. “Thanks, Gemma, but…” But I barely know you. But I wouldn’t know where to begin. But I haven’t told my kids yet. But, but, but… “Hell, I don’t know.”
“Do you love him?”
“Fuck’s sake.” The words tumble from my mouth without warning, mixed with a snort of laughter.
“What?” Gemma questions, unsurprisingly confused.
“People keep asking me that,” I tell her.
“And?”
“And…” A long sigh exits my nose. “And I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to know. Honestly, I don’t even know if I know what it is, or if I can.”
“That’s absurd,” she says, tilting her head to glare at me like I’m in trouble. “Of course you can love people. I wouldn’t be letting some kind of emotionally stunted sociopath stay in this house with my children.”
